#I might still try to do a bit of coding for my personal project + a small amt of the other thing I need to do

[readingwriter92]

Really tempted to say fuck all my adult responsibilities tonight and just make three dozen almond cookies

[sxytwker]

Boyfriend Luigi

Summary: Luigi comes to your dorm after a long and tiring day, and you just want to take care of him. It leads to him turning needy and wanting your love! Because who wouldn’t say no to his perfect smile and pretty eyes?

POV: 3rd person. She/Her pronouns.

Part 1

Smut • MDNI

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

*I literally hated the Surfbreak fic I made, I might post it like way later, but I quickly made this one. I really really like this fic I made, and it’s also the first time I’ve written smut. I know I said I wouldn’t, but I gave it a try. Please give feedback! Thank youuuu enjoy! 💗*

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜

The door flung open, hard enough to rattle the mini whiteboard she always kept pristine. Luigi Mangione stepped in with his hoodie pulled halfway over his curls, laptop bag slung low, and a scowl riding high on his face.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t look at her.

Just kicked off his sneakers in two annoyed jerks and let them land wherever they landed. Then he sank onto the edge of her bed, hunched over, elbows on knees, and pulled his hoodie down lower, like the room offended him.

She blinked, sitting at her desk with her laptop open, a perfectly color-coded set of notes pulled up on Notion, and a mug of peppermint tea steaming quietly beside her. Her necklace—thin gold with a tiny star charm—glinted as she tilted her head.

“…Lu?”

Nothing. Just a dramatic sigh. He ran a hand through his curls—messier than usual—and muttered something under his breath. Something that definitely included the word “bullshit.”

She stood slowly, crossing the room in her soft socks. She could practically smell the static stress clinging to him—code that wouldn’t compile, a prof who made some dumb offhand comment, a meeting that went sideways. Luigi’s bad moods were rare, but when they hit, they hit full force. Especially when he didn’t win.

“Hey,��� she said gently, standing in front of him, “what happened?”

Another sigh. Another eye roll. “Nothing. Just—stupid CS group project. Nobody knows what they’re doing, and I’m the one stuck fixing everyone’s broken code again. And Professor McGregor? He’s on my ass about this AI module I already finished. Like—” He waved his hands. “I’m not a magician, I can’t make JavaScript do calculus.”

“JavaScript shouldn’t be doing calculus.”

“Exactly!”

She bit back a smile. There it was. The drama, the hands, the cocky frustration that made him magnetic. She leaned forward and gently took off his hoodie, coaxing it over his head. His curls popped back up, tousled and warm from the fabric.

Luigi looked up at her finally—eyes tired, lashes long, the corner of his mouth twitching but not quite making it to a smile.

“You’re still mad,” she said softly.

“Not at you,” he muttered.

She stepped closer, standing between his knees now. “I know.”

He sighed again—but this time, less sharp. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his curls, slow and gentle, nails scratching lightly at his scalp the way he liked. He visibly melted. His eyes fluttered closed. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs without thinking, pulling her closer until she was practically between his legs.

“God,” he breathed. “You always smell so damn good.”

“Clean and sweet,” she teased, lips brushing against his temple.

“You’re a menace,” he mumbled, voice already softer.

She smiled and bent down, pressing the softest kiss to his cheekbone, then another to the side of his neck. His arms slid around her waist. She kept playing with his hair, combing through it with slow fingers like she had all the time in the world.

“I hate everyone except you,” he whispered against her shoulder.

“That’s because I’m the only one who knows how to calm you down.”

“You’re smug.”

“Only when I’m right.”

He finally laughed, low and grudging. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“You’re lucky I’m patient.”

He leaned back just enough to look up at her, brown eyes searching hers. “You’re too good for me.”

She kissed his forehead this time. “I know.”

•

The room was dark except for the amber light of her desk lamp, turned low, casting soft shadows across the floor. Her laptop had been closed. Notebooks stacked. The air smelled faintly of lavender laundry detergent and her body cream—the one he always buried his face into when he hugged her from behind.

Luigi was sprawled on her bed now, hoodie loose over his boxers, one leg bent, the other draped across the mattress like he owned the place. Which, honestly, he kind of did. At least emotionally. He’d been sulking for hours, rotating between petty complaints and clingy affection.

She came out of the bathroom with her glasses off, barefaced, in a soft cotton cami and matching shorts the color of fresh cream. Gold glinted at her ears and collarbone. She smelled like every good memory he had.

“Finally,” he muttered, reaching for her like he hadn’t seen her in days instead of ten minutes.

“You are so dramatic.”

“And you’re so hot it’s illegal,” he said, pulling her down onto him without waiting.

She let out a surprised laugh, landing with a soft thud against his chest, her thigh sliding between his. His hands were already on her hips, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway up his forearms.

“I’m still mad,” he mumbled against her skin. “Just so you know.”

“Oh, I know. You’ve been stomping around my room and having an attitude.”

“Shut up,” he breathed, and then he was kissing her neck.

Warm. Wet. Open-mouthed kisses that left slick trails across her collarbone and just under her jaw. Not rushed—needy. Like he had to have her or he’d combust.

Her breath hitched.

“Lu…”

He didn’t stop. His curls brushed her cheek as he kissed lower, then back up, then behind her ear—his hoodie slipping off one shoulder as he shifted above her. She could feel how worked up he was just from the press of his body. The warmth. The low hum of want that buzzed in his chest and spilled out with every exhale.

“You’re so soft,” he said into her skin. “So warm. Makes me forget everything.”

Her fingers found his curls again, pulling them gently, slow but firm. His hips twitched against hers.

“God,” he breathed. “Keep doing that.”

“You’re the one that started this,” she said, but her voice was already a little shaky, lips parted, lashes fluttering. “You gonna be good now?”

“No,” he said immediately, voice rough. “I want all of you. Right now.”

“You’re such a brat.”

“You love it,” he smirked, then kissed her again—deeper, this time, tongue sliding lazily along her neck.

Her soft whines slipped out before she could stop them. Not loud. Just enough for him to smirk against her skin, teeth grazing the spot just below her ear. His hoodie hung open now, his hands sliding under the hem of her top, palms warm against her back.

“I had such a shitty day,” he whispered, voice breaking just a little. “Need you. Just… need you.”

That cracked something in her chest.

She held his face, kissed him slow and sure, fingers still buried in his hair like she’d never let go. And maybe she wouldn’t.

His lips crashed into hers like he was starving.

But she didn’t just melt into it—she took control. One hand still tangled in his hair, the other gripping his hoodie near the collar, pulling him closer. When his tongue brushed hers, tentative, needing, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit—soft, slow, just enough pressure to make him gasp.

“Shit,” he breathed, pulling back half an inch, eyes wide, pupils blown. “You’re trying to kill me.”

She didn’t answer. Just kissed him again, tongue sliding past his lips with intention this time—sucking, slow and deep, until he moaned into her mouth like he couldn’t help it. His fingers dug into her waist, clutching at the soft curve of her hips through her shorts.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, dazed. “Where did that come from?”

“You looked like you could use a little attitude adjustment,” she whispered against his lips.

He laughed—breathy, desperate—and kissed her again, messier now, hands roaming up her sides, under the cami. She was straddling him fully now, her thighs bracketing his, soft cotton sliding against his boxers. He was already hard beneath her, pressed right where she could feel him the most.

She moved.

Just once—hips rolling forward, slow and deliberate.

He groaned. Loud.

“Babe…”

She rolled again. Back, forward. Keeping her pace slow, grinding into him with that maddening rhythm only she could pull off—just enough friction to make him curse, not enough to let him get there.

“You’re evil,” he said, voice tight.

“You like it.”

“Of course I like it,” he choked, head dropping back into the pillows, curls splayed. “You’re sitting on my dick and making me beg—how am I not supposed to like that?”

Her lips brushed his neck again, and her teeth grazed lightly over his pulse point before she kissed it, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin.

He whimpered.

Actually whimpered.

“Oh my god,” he said, hands clinging to her thighs now like she was the only thing tethering him to earth. “You’re driving me insane.”

She sat up slightly, looking down at him with that wicked glint in her eye, gold jewelry catching the lamplight.

“Good,” she said. “Then it’s working.”

Luigi’s hoodie was halfway off his shoulders, clinging to him like he didn’t even have the motor control to take it off. She leaned down and pulled it the rest of the way off him, nails dragging lightly down his arms as she tossed it aside.

He was flushed, breath ragged, curls stuck to his forehead. Her thighs still pinned him in place, and his boxers—soaked through with want—left nothing to the imagination.

“You’re not playing fair,” he panted.

“That’s rich,” she murmured, reaching down to tug at the waistband of his boxers, “coming from the guy who mouth-fucked my neck ten minutes ago.”

“Guilty,” he whispered, then surged up to kiss her collarbone—messy, open, tongue-heavy. He sucked hard, just below the strap of her cami, his hands now fully under her top. His fingers slipped up her sides, grazing just under her breasts but not touching yet. Not until she said so.

She gasped, and he took that as encouragement.

He bit—light, but with enough pressure to leave heat in its wake—and then soothed it with his tongue. Another kiss. Another suck. The sound obscene in the quiet room.

“That’s one,” he muttered against her skin, smirking.

“Lu,” she warned, knowing what he was doing.

“Just one more,” he murmured, trailing kisses up to her neck, the spot that always made her breath stutter. He sucked there—slow and deep—and she let out the softest whimper, fingers tightening in his hair, tugging.

He groaned. Loud. Like she’d touched him somewhere filthy.

She ground down against him again, harder this time, dragging the damp fabric of his boxers along her heat. His hips bucked up into hers helplessly, need taking over.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he said, voice raw. “You’re so wet.”

She bit her lip, eyes locked on his, hands sliding down his chest, slow and deliberate. “Take them off, then.”

His eyes widened.

“You—?”

“Take. Them. Off.”

He fumbled for a second—like his brain short-circuited—then yanked down his boxers, cock springing free, flushed and already leaking. He was thick and twitching under her, the tip red and glistening. She ran her fingers along the length, feather-light, watching him fall apart beneath her.

He moaned so loudly she had to cover his mouth with her hand, laughing softly.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “You want my RA to hear you begging?”

He nodded into her palm like a man possessed, eyes rolling back, hips jerking up into nothing.

She slid her shorts off slowly, keeping eye contact the whole time.

Luigi looked like he was watching the gates of heaven open just for him.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, hands scrambling for her hips, “please let me—please, babe, I need you.”

“Yeah?” she asked, settling over him again, the head of his cock brushing against her entrance, making them both gasp. “Need me that bad?”

He nodded, desperate. “I’m gonna lose it. You don’t get it. I’ve been hard for hours, you—”

She sank down onto him, slow and smooth, cutting him off mid-whimper.

He choked on her name, grabbing her hips like he might fall apart if he didn’t hold on.

She rocked forward—slow, deep—and he swore, the most beautiful sound slipping from his throat as he filled her completely.

He filled her completely—deep, warm, throbbing—and for a second, they both just stayed there, breathing into the heat between their bodies. Her hands braced on his chest, his trembling on her waist like he didn’t trust himself not to flip her and lose his mind.

She leaned forward, kissing his temple, her voice honey-smooth and firm.

“You deserve this,” she whispered. “After the day you’ve had. Let me take care of you.”

Luigi whimpered again, almost overwhelmed. “Don’t say shit like that—please, I’ll come in five seconds.”

“Then don’t,” she said, rolling her hips slowly. “Be good for me.”

She moved with intention—slow, but deep. Every thrust deliberate, angled just right so he hit the spot inside her that made her eyes flutter and her breath catch. His jaw clenched beneath her, and she saw how hard he was trying to hold back, to stay still, to let her keep control.

“God, babe, please,” he breathed, face flushed and glistening. “You feel unreal—so tight, so warm—I can’t—”

“Shhh,” she cooed, dragging her nails gently down his chest. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to lose it.”

She started riding him harder now—still slow, but with more power behind it, hips snapping just a little sharper, the slick sound of their bodies filling the room. His head rolled back, and a guttural moan ripped out of him, low and broken.

Her fingers found his curls again, tugging hard enough to make his hips stutter up into her. He gasped.

“That’s it,” she said, voice husky. “Just like that.”

But then—

He snapped.

His hands clamped down on her thighs, and suddenly he was sitting up, mouth crashing into hers, tongue desperate, kisses messy and hungry.

“No,” he growled into her mouth, “I need more—I need you faster, harder, let me—please, let me—”

Before she could answer, he had her on her back, hoodie pooled beneath her shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself back inside her in one deep, punishing thrust.

“Lu!”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he groaned, hips pounding now, rhythm rougher, needier. “I swear, I just—I need you.”

Her nails raked down his back, lips parting in a cry she tried to muffle with her hand, but he caught her wrist and pinned it above her head, grinning like a man unhinged.

“Let them hear,” he whispered, teeth at her throat. “Let them hear who makes you sound like that.”

She choked on a moan as he angled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside her over and over until she was arching off the mattress, gold chains tangling against her throat, her whole body lit up and trembling.

“You gonna come for me?” he breathed. “Let go for me, babe. I want to feel you.”

She barely managed to nod, her whole body tightening beneath him, her thighs clamping down.

And when she did—when she came around him, gasping his name like a prayer—he followed instantly, burying himself deep as his whole body shuddered, moaning so loud it echoed off the walls.

For a long, still moment, the only sounds were their heavy breathing, the distant hum of the hallway fan, and the quiet thud of his heartbeat against her chest.

She was still catching her breath, cheeks flushed, limbs soft and heavy, when Luigi leaned in and kissed her neck again—slow, sweet.

But the way his hands gripped her thighs said something else entirely.

“Lu,” she murmured, voice raw, “I thought you—”

“I’m not done,” he said, low and serious. “Not even close.”

Before she could answer, he flipped her onto her stomach, strong hands guiding her up onto her knees. Her cheek hit the pillow, hips up, back arched—exposed. Vulnerable. The way he wanted her.

“Lu…” she breathed, a warning and a whimper in one.

“You’ve been too sweet to me,” he muttered, eyes raking over her body like he was about to wreck her. “Let me have this.”

He grabbed her hips, pulled her back until her ass pressed flush against him. She could feel him—already hard again, still hot and heavy—pressed between her thighs.

He slid in with one slow, brutal thrust.

She gasped, gripping the sheets.

“Too much?” he asked, mock-sweet, hand sliding up her spine.

“You’re—Lu, slow down—”

But he didn’t.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pushed her head down, cheek to the mattress, ass high.

“I said let me have this,” he growled.

Then he started moving—deep, relentless thrusts that sent her forward with each one. The slap of skin, the wet, obscene sounds between them, and her moans—half-choked into the pillow—filled the room like a storm had broken loose.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, voice fraying. “Taking me so deep, fuck—fuck, babe—”

She couldn’t answer. Could barely think. Her fingers clawed at the blankets, mouth open, eyes rolling back as he pounded into her harder, faster.

“Lu, please—please, you’re too—”

“Take it,” he snapped, hand smacking her ass once, hard. “You’re mine.”

She cried out, walls fluttering around him, body trembling from the overstimulation. Her hair clung to her back, sweat-damp and wild.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, voice wild, rough, “and I’m not pulling out. You want that?”

She whimpered, legs shaking. “Yes—yes, Lu, please—”

“Fucking say it.”

“I want you to cum in me,” she gasped, words breaking as her body gave out beneath him. “I want it—need it—please, Luigi—”

That was it.

He slammed into her one last time, burying himself deep and holding her tight against him as he spilled inside her, moaning into her shoulder, hands gripping her like he never wanted to let go.

They stayed like that—connected, breathless, ruined.

And when he finally softened and pulled out, watching his release spill from between her thighs, he dropped beside her, chest still heaving.

“Jesus,” he whispered, dragging her against him, hand in her hair, kissing her temple. “I needed that more than food.”

She laughed—hoarse and dazed.

“Next time,” she murmured, “just tell me you’re mad.”

He grinned, exhausted and smug. “What, and miss out on this?”

•

The room had gone still. The only light came from the faint glow of her desk lamp and the hallway seeping through the bottom of the door. Luigi lay flat on his back, breath steadying, one arm tossed over his eyes like he’d been knocked out. His chest rose and fell in deep, slow waves.

She stirred beside him, legs still a little wobbly, skin flushed and glistening. She reached for the tissues on her nightstand, then paused—watching him for a second. The way his curls stuck to his forehead. The way his jaw relaxed when he wasn’t smirking or teasing. He looked peaceful. Wrecked, but peaceful.

She sat up, leaned over him, and started cleaning him up—slow, careful strokes. He twitched the first time, hips flinching slightly.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough from overuse. “Let me do that.”

“Shhh,” she said softly, wiping him down with gentle focus. “I got you.”

He looked up at her through half-lidded eyes, mouth parting at the way she touched him—not sexual now, just soothing. Reverent, even. Like she wanted him to feel cared for, not just spent.

Every few swipes, she’d kiss him. A kiss to his chest. His stomach. His hip bone.

Then, when she was done, she paused, letting her lips hover just above the head of his cock—soft now, but still sensitive, still slick from everything they’d shared. She kissed it. Barely there. Soft and warm and lingering.

Luigi moaned. Quiet, broken. Like even that final touch unraveled something inside him.

She smiled, then gently pulled his boxers back on, tugging them up his thighs and tucking him away like she was tucking in a secret.

“You’re trying to kill me again,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“Just wanted to say goodnight.”

He laughed, sleepy and low. “That was a good night.”

She climbed back into bed with him, slipping under the covers, pulling him close. He immediately rolled toward her, throwing a leg over her hip, hand resting on her waist.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispered against her neck.

“You needed it.”

“I always need you.”

She kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then let her fingers drift up and down his spine until his breathing slowed again. And when he finally fell asleep, curled around her like gravity didn’t matter, she stayed awake just a few minutes longer.

Because no matter how cocky, needy, or bratty he got—this was her favorite version of him.

The quiet one who held her like she was home.

The Next Morning — 8:09 a.m.

The first thing she felt was warmth.

The second was weight—Luigi, practically draped over her like a human blanket, hoodie bunched up around his ribs, breath brushing against her collarbone. One of his legs tangled between hers. One arm around her waist. His curls soft and unruly, pressed against her cheek.

She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the morning light peeking through the window blinds. The air was still, peaceful. Her chest rose and fell under his, steady.

Without thinking, her fingers slid into his hair.

Instantly, he sighed.

Not even fully awake, and already melting.

A soft, muffled whine escaped his lips as her nails grazed his scalp. He didn’t move, didn’t lift his head—just nuzzled in closer like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Mmm,” he grumbled into her skin. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re such a baby,” she murmured, but her tone was affectionate. Her hand moved slower, curling a little deeper into his hair.

“I’m your baby,” he muttered, voice raspy and wrecked.

She smiled, letting her thumb graze the edge of his ear.

Then she felt it.

The hard press of him against her thigh. Not subtle. Not ignorable.

Her smile sharpened.

“Well, good morning,” she said, teasing. “You planning to do anything with that, or…?”

Luigi groaned, face immediately burying itself deeper into her neck.

“Don’t,” he whined, voice cracking. “It’s morning. I’m vulnerable.”

She laughed softly, kissing the top of his head. “You’re always vulnerable when I touch your hair.”

“You’re weaponizing it.”

“Maybe.”

Then, without warning, her hand slid down—slow, deliberate—over his back, down his side, until her fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers.

He gasped, twitching against her.

“Babe—”

She grinned against his temple, her hand curling lightly around him. Not stroking yet. Just holding. Warm and gentle.

“You’re already so hard,” she whispered, voice dipping. “You always wake up like this?”

“I—fuck, not always,” he stuttered, hips jerking slightly. “Only when you’re in my bed. Or… I guess when I’m in yours.”

“Mmm.” She gave him the lightest squeeze. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not—okay, I am. Jesus.”

She kissed his cheek, slow and warm, and started stroking—barely moving her hand, just enough to make him gasp again.

“You’re so sensitive,” she whispered. “Is this because of last night?”

“You broke me last night.”

“You liked it.”

“Obviously.”

He was already leaking, already whimpering softly into her skin, hands gripping her hip like he didn’t know where else to hold on.

“You wanna be good for me this morning?” she asked, teasing and sweet, her breath at his ear.

He nodded fast, breath catching.

“Then let me take care of you.”

“C’mon,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Lay back for me.”

Luigi didn’t argue. Just blinked at her with sleepy, blown-out eyes and let her roll him onto his back, curls splayed over her pillow, hoodie riding up over his stomach. He looked so soft like this—raw from last night, chest still rising fast, eyes fluttering when her hand stayed between his legs.

“God, you’re already so worked up,” she whispered, her palm gliding over the thick length of him. He was hot, twitching in her hand, tip glistening with precum that smeared across her fingers as she stroked him slowly.

He choked out a breath. “Fuck, babe, please—”

“Shhh,” she cooed, kissing his jaw. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She sat up on her knees beside him, eyes fixed on his flushed face as she wrapped her fingers around him fully now, pumping slow, deliberate strokes from base to tip. Her thumb swirled over the head, collecting the leaking mess and spreading it down with each pass.

Luigi’s head tipped back, his jaw slack, hands fisting the sheets like he didn’t know what else to do with himself.

“God, you feel so good,” he moaned, hips lifting into her hand. “I’m gonna—babe, I—”

“Not yet,” she said sweetly, giving a firmer stroke. “Just let me take care of you. You don’t need to do anything.”

He whined—actually whined—as her pace stayed slow but relentless, her wrist twisting just enough to make him twitch, over and over. His stomach tensed, thighs shaking.

She kissed his chest. His neck. His stomach.

“You’re so sensitive,” she whispered, loving the way he shivered. “Still full from last night, huh?”

He nodded quickly, unable to speak.

Her other hand cradled his hip, grounding him as he bucked up into her fist, moaning now—soft, desperate sounds tumbling out like he didn’t know how to hold them in.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Y-yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah, I’m so close—please—don’t stop—”

She didn’t. She kept stroking him, a little faster now, the slick sounds getting louder as he spilled more over her fingers. His abs clenched, head thrown back, and he came with a broken cry—hot, thick ropes spilling across his stomach and her hand in messy, twitching pulses.

She didn’t stop touching him right away. Just slowed her strokes, coaxing every last drop from him as he trembled beneath her.

“Jesus,” he whispered, completely wrecked.

She kissed the inside of his thigh. “You’re so good for me.”

When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling down at him, wiping her hand on a tissue and already reaching for a clean one to gently clean his stomach. Like he was something delicate. Like she loved this part—caring for him when he could barely move.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, still dazed.

She kissed his cheek. “No, but you’ve got me anyway.”

He thought he was done.

Thought the handjob had drained every last bit of frustration and tension from his body. But then she kissed him again—slow, warm, one hand cupping his cheek and the other still resting on his thigh.

“You did so good for me,” she whispered, her lips brushing his. “But I wanna give you one more thing.”

Luigi blinked, dazed and flushed, lips parted. “One more?”

She smiled.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Wanna see you fall apart for me again.”

She guided him to the edge of the bed, his legs spreading automatically as he sat. He looked down at her, brows already pulling together in anticipation, because he knew what she was about to do. She kissed his inner thigh, then the other, her hands sliding up the sides of his hips, fingers curling into the waistband of his boxers.

“Lay back,” she said softly, and he obeyed like it was instinct.

When she pulled his boxers down again, he was already starting to get hard—his cock flushed, still twitching, even after everything. His breath caught when she wrapped her hand around him again.

“I literally just came,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

She kissed the head of his cock. “And you’re already ready again. That’s so cute.”

“God,” he groaned, tossing his head back. “You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

He didn’t have time to respond.

Because she sank to her knees.

Right there in front of him, hair messy from sleep, gold jewelry catching the light, eyes warm and locked on his. She looked too angelic to be doing something so filthy—and that contrast made it even worse.

She started slow.

Tongue teasing around the head, soft sucks, the kind of gentle buildup that had him twitching in her hand again. But she didn’t stop there.

This time, she took him deeper.

All the way.

Luigi’s entire body tensed. His hands flew to the sheets, gripping them like he might fall off the planet.

“Holy fuck—” he choked, hips jerking.

She swallowed him down until her nose was pressed to his stomach, then pulled back just enough to drag her tongue along the underside—slow, firm, perfect.

His legs spread wider, his brows pulling tight, tongue sliding out to lick the corner of his mouth like he couldn’t even think straight.

“Babe—” he gasped. “I—I can’t— you’ve never—fuck—fuck.”

She moaned around him, and the vibrations made him whimper.

His hand reached out, trembling, threading through her hair. Not guiding—just holding. Like he needed something to keep him grounded.

“You’re gonna make me cum so fast,” he groaned. “That’s not fair—fuck, it’s not fair—”

But she was smiling.

She pulled off just long enough to say, “I want it. Wanna taste you.”

Then she went back down—deeper, hungrier—lips flushed, cheeks hollowing as she sucked him hard and slow, hand stroking what she couldn’t fit until he was panting, twitching, leaking all over her tongue.

Luigi looked completely wrecked.

Eyebrows drawn, cheeks flushed red, abs flexing with every pass of her mouth. He looked down at her like he couldn’t believe this was real, like his brain had short-circuited halfway through processing what she was doing.

“Baby—” he warned, voice breaking. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna—I’m cumming—”

She didn’t pull back.

She took it.

Every last drop, swallowing him as he came hard, his moans cracking in his throat as his hips jerked helplessly. His hand clenched in her hair, body shaking, completely undone.

When he finally opened his eyes again, she was looking up at him—smug and sweet, licking her lips.

He stared.

“You just… swallowed all of it.”

She shrugged, wiping her mouth. “You taste good.”

He blinked again, then let his head fall back with a groan. “You are literally going to kill me.”

She climbed back into bed beside him, kissing his cheek, then nuzzling into his neck.

“You can nap,” she whispered. “I’ll protect you.”

He wrapped an arm around her without a word, still dazed, still hard-breathing, totally spent.

And smiling.

9:12 a.m. — Her Dorm Room

Luigi was sitting half-dressed on the edge of her bed, hoodie halfway over his head, eyes glassy like he’d just come back from war. Because, in a way, he had.

“Are you ever gonna recover?” she asked, amused, as she tossed him a clean pair of socks.

He caught them clumsily. “You swallowed and then looked at me like it was nothing. I need time.”

“You’ve had time,” she said, pulling on her sweatshirt and smoothing her hair into a clip. “Now put your pants on. I’m making eggs.”

“I’m gonna marry you,” he muttered, tugging his sweatpants up. “I’m still weak. You’re feeding me. It’s over. I’m locked in.”

She leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’ve been locked in. I just like spoiling you.”

He gave a broken sigh and collapsed back on the bed.

“You’re a menace.”

“And you love it.”

•

She worked fast, already cracking eggs and dropping toast into her tiny dorm toaster. Luigi hovered nearby like a six-foot golden retriever, arms wrapped around her waist from behind, hoodie sleeves bunched at the elbows. He kept his face buried in her shoulder, occasionally pressing lazy kisses to her neck.

“Do you need something?” she asked without looking up.

“You,” he mumbled. “Always.”

She shook her head, trying not to laugh. “Eat your breakfast and behave.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I can’t. You blew me. Literally. I’m emotionally compromised.”

“Luigi.”

“You were on your knees, babe. I saw God.”

Walk to the Café

They finally made it out the door after she forced him to brush his teeth, fix his hair, and pack his laptop. Now they were walking across Locust Walk, the early campus buzz already kicking in—students heading to class, coffee cups everywhere, bikes whirring past.

Luigi had one hand on the strap of his backpack. The other was locked around her waist.

She wore her usual soft, clean-scented perfume. Gold hoops, layered necklaces, everything about her perfectly put together. He looked like someone who’d barely survived something spiritual—and couldn’t stop smiling about it.

“You’re being clingy,” she said, glancing up at him.

“You rearranged my soul, you don’t get to be surprised I want to hold you.”

“People are staring.”

“They’re just jealous.”

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, pulled her close, and kissed her full on the mouth. Not rushed. Not casual. Just firm and affectionate—his way of telling the world she was his, and he was so fine with that.

She blinked up at him, lips flushed. “That was… a lot.”

“I’m still blushing.”

“You should be.”

He grinned and nudged her forward. “C’mon. You’ve got me addicted to that café croissant. And I need something to help me recover from the best morning of my life.”

She rolled her eyes and laced their fingers together. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you.”

The café was buzzing with the late-morning crowd—students in hoodies and slippers, laptops open, espresso machines hissing nonstop. The smell of fresh coffee and buttery pastries wrapped around them as they stepped inside, hand in hand.

She was scanning the pastry case when someone called out from the corner.

“Hey! There she is!”

She turned, instinctively smiling—two girls from her environmental chem class waving her over. One had a UPenn tote slung over her shoulder, the other was halfway through a matcha.

“Didn’t think you were making it out of your dorm today,” one of them said, smirking as they walked up.

“We saw your notes on the group doc,” the other chimed in. “So organized, as always. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Thanks,” she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I was just—”

That’s when one of them paused, eyes zeroing in just below her jaw.

“Oh my god, is that a—”

Her friend leaned in. “Yep. That’s a hickey.”

The grin that bloomed on their faces was instant. They turned their gaze—like radar—toward Luigi, who was standing right behind her, hands casually resting on her hips, expression completely unbothered.

“Hi,” one said, lips twitching. “You must be Luigi.”

“Guilty,” he said smoothly, not even trying to hide the smug little grin tugging at his lips.

She let out a scandalized laugh and covered her neck with one hand. “You guys are so annoying—”

“Oh, we’re annoying?” one of them shot back, grinning. “You’re the one walking around like you just got ruined.”

Luigi let out a low chuckle behind her, pressing his mouth to her temple like he might say something—but she cut him off by grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the counter.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she muttered, cheeks flaming as she half-hid her face in his chest. “They’re not gonna let me live.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, hands resting just above her stomach.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” he whispered in her ear. “Also… that was 100% on purpose. That spot under your ear? Mine now.”

“Luigi.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

He grinned into her hair. “Fine. I’ll earn another one later.”

She elbowed him lightly, stepping up to the counter to order. Still half-curled into him, still red-faced. But she didn’t pull away.

If anything, she held him tighter.

3:17 p.m. — Van Pelt Library, Third Floor Study Room

The study group was deep in work mode—laptops open, highlighters out, phones face-down, cold brew sweating on the table. A mix of bio majors, engineering kids, and one poli sci friend pretending to belong. Pages rustled, keyboards clicked, and the occasional ugh punctuated the low hum of productivity.

Luigi sat directly across from her.

He wore his glasses now—thin-framed, slightly crooked from being shoved in his backpack—and his curls were pulled back with a lazy claw clip she’d given him. He was focused, lips pursed, typing with sharp precision as his code scrolled fast.

She was beside him, eyes flicking between her textbook and her laptop, pen tapping absently.

For a while, they behaved.

Then it started.

It was subtle at first—his knee brushing hers under the table, then staying there. Her ankle slid between his legs a few minutes later. His foot nudged hers in response, and she didn’t look up, didn’t smile—just let it happen.

Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed beside her.

from Luigi:

you’re not slick with that foot.

but don’t stop.

She smirked, typed without looking at him.

to Luigi:

you’re already hard again, aren’t you?

She saw his throat move as he swallowed, then shifted in his seat. He didn’t reply. Just looked down at his screen, but she could see the flush creeping up his neck.

Five minutes passed. Then—

from Luigi:

stop.

i’m trying to not get caught.

you’re evil.

i want you so bad it’s actually painful.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, then wrote one last message.

to Luigi:

keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll take you to the bathroom and make it worse.

He blinked. Set his phone down. Adjusted his glasses. Looked at her like she’d just whispered filth in his ear in front of everyone.

That’s when one of the girls from the group looked up.

“Okay,” she said, pointing between them, “what is going on right now?”

They both froze.

“What?” she said innocently, scribbling a note in the margin of her reading.

“You two keep texting each other and blushing. Luigi hasn’t looked up in twenty minutes, and you keep kicking him under the table.”

Luigi sat back slowly, blinking behind his glasses.

“Studying,” he said too quickly. “Just—concentrating.”

The poli sci friend raised an eyebrow. “You’re vibrating, bro.”

“I—I code fast,” he said, adjusting his glasses again. “It’s a thing.”

One of the guys snorted. “Y’all are so not slick.”

She leaned into Luigi’s side, her hand brushing his thigh under the table as she looked up at the group.

“We’re just productive,” she said sweetly. “Right, Lu?”

He turned scarlet. “Mmhmm.”

She reached under the table again. He choked on air.

“Studying,” she reminded him with a grin, voice low.

“I hate you,” he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, shifting in his seat again.

She kissed his cheek. “Liar.”

•

The study group had scattered—half to the vending machines, a couple to refill water bottles, and one kid muttering something about protein bars and disappearing entirely. The break window opened like a gift.

She grabbed Luigi’s hand and tugged.

“C’mon.”

He blinked, flustered. “Wait—where are we—?”

“Five minutes.”

That was all it took.

They slipped down the narrow stairwell, past the half-lit corridors of second-floor stacks, weaving between dusty shelves and untouched archives. She pulled him into a back corner with no cameras, no windows, and just enough shadow.

The second they stopped moving, she pushed him back against the shelf and kissed him—hard.

His hands flew to her waist like instinct, but he was already breathless, already undone just from the look in her eyes.

“God, I’ve been going crazy,” he murmured between kisses. “You can’t just text me shit like that and expect me to focus.”

“You weren’t supposed to focus,” she said, kissing down his jaw. “I wanted you desperate.”

“You succeeded.”

She kissed him again—deeper this time. Tongue brushing his, slow and hot.

Then she sucked it into her mouth, moaning low in her throat.

Luigi whimpered.

Actually whimpered.

His hips twitched forward against her, and she felt it—long, hard, straining through his gym shorts.

She pulled back just enough to glance down, eyes going right to the prominent outline pressing against the thin fabric. Clear as day.

“Lu,” she whispered, tilting her head, smirking. “You’re already this hard?”

“You—fuck, babe—”

He rocked into her slightly, hands gripping her hips now, eyes fluttering. His head hit the shelf behind him with a dull thunk.

She reached down, palmed him through his shorts, just once.

He gasped.

“Someone’s sensitive,” she teased. “Still sore from this morning?”

He groaned, biting his lip hard. “Yes. And you’re making it worse.”

She leaned in, kissed just below his ear, voice like velvet.

“Good.”

Then her teeth grazed his neck—lightly—and her hand gave him one more slow, teasing stroke over his waistband.

He was panting now, trying to keep his voice down, hips shifting like he couldn’t help it. “You’re gonna kill me in a library.”

She pressed her body into his, lips brushing his again.

“Then die quiet.”

Luigi was flushed, breathing hard, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose as her hand left him aching and half-hard beneath his shorts. Her lips were swollen, pupils wide, and for a second—just a second—he thought maybe she’d give in.

He leaned in, hands sliding to her hips, thumbs slipping just beneath the hem of her shirt.

“What if,” he whispered, lips brushing hers, “I just pulled these down—” one thumb slid under the waistband of her shorts “—and ate you out right here?”

Her breath caught.

Her hand flew up to his chest, firm. “Lu.”

“No one would hear. You’d stay quiet for me, right?” he said, voice low and smug, mouth at her jaw now. “Just five minutes. I’d make you cum so hard you’d forget what class you’re in.”

Her thighs clenched. Hard.

But she shoved him back—lightly, but serious.

“Absolutely not. We’re not getting kicked out of the damn library because your dick can’t wait,” she hissed, adjusting her clothes, eyes still wild. “I’m not that crazy.”

He grinned, all mischief and flushed lips. “I think you’re a little crazy.”

“Luigi.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, hands raised in surrender, though his eyes were still locked on her like she was the only thing that existed. “I’ll behave.”

She gave him one last look—stern, heated, flushed—and turned on her heel, leading him back out of the stacks.

They walked fast, not speaking.

He trailed behind her, smiling to himself.

•

4:21 p.m. — Back in the Study Room

They slipped back into the room like nothing happened—her brushing a hand through her hair, him adjusting his hoodie. A few people glanced up. One girl clocked the way Luigi was definitely red in the face.

She sat down first. He took the seat beside her.

For a few seconds, it was quiet.

Then he leaned over, mouth close to her ear.

Voice like sin.

“Can’t wait to get you back in my mouth tonight.”

Her pen slipped right out of her hand.

She turned to glare at him, but he was already looking at his screen, completely composed, like he hadn’t just whispered something that set her whole body on fire.

She stared ahead, trying to focus.

Her ears were bright red.

And across the table, someone muttered under their breath, “Y’all are insufferable.”

Luigi smiled without looking up.

“Productive,” he said smoothly. “We’re just productive.”

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜

It hit the limit so I’ll post a part 2 in a few days. I already have it done, but I won’t keep yall waiting too long. Thanks for reading 💖

[twisted-love-game]

This blog contains sensitive topics such as stalking, murdering, cannibalism, suicidal ideations, suicide, mental illnesses, scary imagery, hospitals, crude language, abuse, mentions of sa, toxic relationships, death

Please take these warnings into consideration and proceed with caution No I do NOT condemn or support a lot of the topics in this blog

PATIENTS Patient 001: The MC(aka you!) You were admitted into the hospital about a year ago but you were locked in confinement for that time, not having any interaction with people besides the doctors. Until recently they let you out of confinement and you were able to meet the other patients. Patient 002: A shy and timid baker who was admitted to the hospital about a year ago as well.(learn more about them to unlock more) Patient 003: A tall, intimidating muscular man. He hasn't said a word since getting admitted into the hospital 11 months ago.(learn more about him to unlock more) Patient 004: A spastic botanist who seems extremely timid yet still try to interact. She was admitted into the hospital 9 months ago.(learn more about her to unlock more) Patient 005: He was the first person to introduce himself to you. Compared to most of the other patients on your floor, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders. He was admitted into the hospital 8 months ago.(learn more about them to unlock more) Patient 006: An extreme narcissist who was admitted into the hospital 8 months ago.(learn more about her to unlock more) Patient 007: A creepy looking person who hides their face and doesn't say a word. They were admitted into the hospital 6 months ago.(learn more about them to unlock more) Patient 008: A crazy mechanic that was admitted into the hospital 4 months ago. They still seems to cling to the life they had outside of the hospital.(learn more about them to unlock more) Patient 009: a mentally broken looking man who was admitted into the hospital 2 months ago. He's unresponsive.(learn more about him to unlock more) Patient 010: The most recent patient to be admitted into the hospital. They're erratic, violent, and completely unapproachable.(learn more about them to unlock more)

TAGS 🌀twisted love 💌fan content 🔞minors dni 🎤asks 📖story patient002 patient003 patient004 patient005 patient006 patient007 patient008 patient009 patient010

EXTRA INFORMATION Once again, I do NOT condemn actions such as stalking, abuse, murdering, all of that stuff is NOT okay, if you think it is, get off my blog please and thanks! On a similar note, I am not trying to romanticize the topics in this story, if it comes across like that please let me know so I can change it as that is not my intentions! As for mentions of sa, I won't be going into detail nor will I draw it, but some of the characters have sa in their story(some of them have been sa'd to be more precise) It's a sensitive topic, and I don't really feel comfortable writing about it too much. Post's talking about sa will be very far and few between. Characters in this story can die, they are supposed to actually! However! Just because a character dies doesn't mean I'll stop posting about them. Please feel free to continue to ask about that character, to get to know them! Even when the story ends, I'll keep continuing to post for the characters!

Please be patient with me, I'm a slow writer and not ever really proud of what I write! I know I also want to try drawing more specifically for this blog so that might be why it takes a bit to get back to asks, as well as just having a life outside of the blog!! I'm also still working on Cafe Sweet, this is more so a side project of mine that I plan on taking my time with to avoid Cafe Sweet burnout(Should also be easier for me as there's no coding involved LMAOOO but I can never focus on one thing at a time anyways hhhh)

This is a tumblr story game! I'll be writing out story parts and some story parts will have a poll for you guys to vote on that carries on that route! I won't be making a video game for this story like my other games, I thought this would be a fun idea to do with people that enjoy my stories and characters!

[littlepopatochisp]

Woe, SDR anthem character headcanons be upon ye

We’re gonna start with my husband 🥰

• first of all, bro is gay as hell. Not a single woman loving gene in that twink’s body.

• I’ve also gotta hit him with the trans beam, I can’t not at this point lmao.

• he and rett are legally married, they’re just discreet about it. They don’t wear their rings in public because they worry about it being weaponized in battle, emotionally, Y’know?

• I also think Pyke might be somewhere on the ace spectrum, but he’s not repulsed or opposed to sex.

• pyke is literally the most oblivious motherfucker out there when it comes to being hit on. Unless rett’s doing it or you’re super obvious about it, he won’t pick up on it.

• I’ve said this in a different post, but he wears makeup. He doesn’t really go overboard with it on a daily basis, just a bit of eyeliner and some subtle eye shadow, but he’s not opposed to dolling himself up when the opportunity arises.

• I think this one is more heavily implied than headcanoned, but he’s definitely got some sort of trauma from being in prison.

• he is one of the most protective people you will ever meet. As much as he pokes fun at ziggy, he will punch anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way (I think this one is also just heavily implied lmao)

Next up, rett

• once again, I’m hitting him with the gay and trans headcanons. Gotta get some T4T action on this ship (/hj)

• he and Pyke did that thing where they both tried to propose at the same time when the big moment ™️ happened and it was very cute (fuck I just gave myself another fic idea-)

• he’s got ptsd from his time in the military (idrk how anyone could go fight in a war and not walk out of it with ptsd but then again I’m not a psychologist) but he tries his best to try and not show when he’s struggling. Pyke has had to talk with him about not hiding shit like that multiple times.

• he’s never really been one to talk about his feelings, even before the war. Hank has somewhat helped with this, being alone with him on a ship for gods-know how long will do that, but he still struggles to vent to other people (Pyke is the exception)

• he’s always had a knack for mechanics and engineering, even as a kid.

• if he isn’t immediately distracted with something, he needs to be doing something with his hands, whether he’s fidgeting with his fingers or tinkering with a project or something like that.

• this is one that is just basically canon at this point but oh my god he’s so dad-coded. I swear, I bet he sneezes like a dad too.

• he’s got tattoos on his top scars, I just haven’t decided what they would be (I’m leaning towards phoenix wings but idk yet)

Ziggy time! The silly guy!

• I’m hitting him with a quadruple A battery (aroace and AuDHD).

• I also think he’s got a bit of self-esteem issues, but definitely nowhere near as bad as someone like jericho’s are.

• he’s a very repulsed aroace, which is another reason why rett and pyke keep their relationship on the down low (not that they were very openly romantic in the first place lol).

• he collects bottle caps, like most fallout fans do.

• he’s very used to rich person coffee brands, so his first cup of shitty coffee on the rhapsody was…a shock to say the least.

• this might be my anti-government side showing, but I dont think that ziggy’s parents paid a whole lot of attention to him. To me they were both neglectful and kind of overbearing, hiring Nannies and other people like that to keep an eye on him at all times as a kid.

• his goggles function as prescription glasses, as well as helping him see into the hypergrid. Yes, he does do the anime “pushing up his goggles dramatically” thing despite not watching anime

• he hates crying in public. In his mind he’s too old to be getting upset like that, and it’s embarrassing for him.

MY WIFE MY WIFE MY WIFE!! (Ko time)

• butch lesbian alert. She is the lesbianist lesbian to ever lesbian.

• Y’know how everyone draws Pyke with star earrings despite him not having earrings? I think we should start doing that with Ko except with spiked bracelets.

• she also wears makeup. Although most of the time when she’s wearing makeup it’s for a concert she’s going to.

• she and Pyke have occasional sparring matches/fighting lessons for ziggy (rett also likes to watch, totally not because his husband is a fucking badass what who said that)

• I fully believe that her sister is dead. I think she died due to a drug overdose, from drugs specifically bought from big thunder. Ko doesn’t like talking about it, for obvious reasons.

• Ko decided that ziggy is her new little brother, and she will literally kill anyone who messes with him (this comes with regular sibling teasing).

• she’ll occasionally dye her hair, mostly because of how easy it is since her hair is white as snow. She doesn’t do anything drastically different, maybe just a line of color or something like that.

• kinda like how pyke has a specific morning routine, she also has one. Except where Pyke meditates, Ko works out with weights and barbells and shit like that

[last-sprout]

Last Sprout Dev Diary - Jan 10, 2025

Hello, and welcome to the new year! After the break, I'm here for another dev diary - this one being a bit more about something conceptual. If you want to read the last dev diary from December, you can do so here.

If this is the first one you're reading, I'm @oneominousvalbatross, and I'm the tech side of the sprout team! This week I mostly worked on status effects, but I want to take some time to talk about a broader, more conceptual topic, and save the full breakdown for next week.

My poor boy, who has every disease.

Something I don't think I've really specified before in these dev diaries is my background in game dev, or, rather, my lack of background. I started seriously learning how to code a bit over a year ago, and entered my first game jam in February of 2024.

(The game was barely functional, but it did exist so like, there's something.)

My academic background is in philosophy (simultaneously the best and worst thing tbh), and apart from being pretty good with computers in a broad sense I didn't really have much to go on for this project. I'm bringing this up because I'm going to be talking about something that I had to figure out for myself, but that might be like, compsci 105 or something if you went through school for it. That said though, if you have always kind of wanted to make games, you can absolutely make games! I didn't think I was a math person, or a coding person, until I started doing it.

Game Development is Hard

I'm going to assume that software development in general is hard, but I haven't really done that, so I'm talking about game dev. I spent around two weeks not touching the game, and when I came back, the first thing I noticed was just how hard it was to get my head back around something with this many systems! This was also something I ran headlong into when working on that game jam, I reached a point in like, a week where I couldn't touch any system without potentially breaking every other system.

The solution I use, and the reason why I could come back to this without completely losing my mind, is to reduce the number of access points into a system to the absolute bare minimum. For example, we can look at the animation system. It's really complicated! It needs to be able to swap the sprites out on a variety of different renderers, it needs to be able to adjust animation speeds, control shader parameters, and it needs to be able to queue up multiple animations in sequence, plus it needs to send out events on animation end so that I can use them to time up other game actions.

If I was to condense all of this into a few sentences: A system can be as complicated as it needs to be, but try to envision it in its own little box, with precisely one entrance/exit. If you need to spawn a projectile, you should really just be able to go, like, SpawnProjectile(projectile), with as little external work as possible. This means if you need to completely rewrite how spawning projectiles works, you can do that, and all the other classes that spawn projectiles can still just do their thing.

A helpful diagram

The way I would've done this originally would have been to have, like, a SpriteAnimator class with a 'speed' field. I'd set it to one by default, and then whenever I need that speed to be different, I'd have whatever object needs to change the speed go in and set the speed to whatever. If you've done a lot of programming, you probably immediately realized the tons of problems this could cause - problems into which I ran headlong.

What do you do when you want one animation to play at a certain speed, then go back to the previous speed when it's done? If you do, do you assume that the speed was set to 1 before, and just reset it, or do you have one of the two objects involved store the previous speed to go back to it? If you do, what happens if, halfway through an animation, another object butts in to adjust the speed again? Say you're playing an animation at half speed, and then a speed buff gets applied that's supposed to last for a minute. Your speed buff goes in, sets the faster speed, the animation suddenly starts playing faster, then when the animation is finished, the object that was waiting to reset the speed goes back in and sets the speed to 1, leaving the animation playing at the default speed when it's supposed to be faster.

These kinds of problems will always be a risk, but in my specific case I split the speed at which an animation plays out into three places. First of all, an animation has a frame rate, which is meant to never change. We do most of our animating at 12 fps (on twos, I think is what you call it in the traditional animation world? idk, not a 2d animator), and each animation object keeps track of its frame delta (1 / frame rate) so that the controller can progress through the frames at the right speed.

However, we don't submit the animation to the controller in its unaltered form. Instead, we have a data structure called a PlayableAnimation. This contains the animation itself, but it also has the speed at which the animation should be played, as well as some other useful info that might change between two instances of the same animation. A controller maintains a stack of playable animations and can look at the individual speed of each one as it progresses through.

On top of that, there's a final speed modifier that can be submitted along with the playable animation, without changing its values. This way, if I want to play an animation at double speed for whatever reason, I don't necessarily have to set the value for the entire controller, I can just say this animation should be faster, and nothing else. Some animations have different frame rates, or are re-used with different speeds for different purposes, and I can do all that configuration without having to put all that weight on one field.

All of this sounds wildly complicated, and it kind of is, but importantly, if you're playing an animation from any other system, all you do is type in "Controller.PlayAnimation(animation)". You can also go like, "Controller.PlayAnimation(animation, speed: 1.5)" if you want it to play faster, but all of that stuff is handled completely without additional input. This is what lets me come back to the game and keep working on it when it's been months since I've touched a part of it.

Why This is Relevant Right Now

Status effects seem simple, but they kind of need to touch every other system at least a little bit, which is why I spent all that time talking about making systems. A status effect needs to be able to do things like apply damage, but it also needs to be able to play animations or sounds, and it doesn't always want to play those things on the source of the effect.

Some demos for the animations different status effects will use.

Plus, this is a roguelite, so we need to be able to add and modify status effect stuff within the upgrade system, which might mean modifying the magnitude of the effect, changing colors on animations, or tying other things into the effect when it goes off! As long as each of those systems has the cleanest possible entry/exit points, this is doable, but it's been a long battle making sure the game can keep moving forward and not get mired in constant bugfixing and complexity management.

I have a lot of cool game design thoughts on the effects themselves, but I think I'll leave that for a later week. As per usual, thanks for reading, feel free to send any questions or thoughts here or to @oneominousvalbatross, and I'll see you next week!

[blackboxtheater]

voted for them again!

prompt this time is: cozy!

something simple, thanks!

I do believe the people have spoken, but on the off chance that you follow my blog and haven't voted for Mumpearl in the the Mumbo Jumbo ship bracket, you still can! We can show our presence as a small but mighty rarepair and go down with the ship as we sink beneath the waves lapping at Boatem's shores.

I will still take prompts until voting closes so if you wanted to submit, this might be your last chance 👀

But time for prompts!! Cozy prompts!!

So this could be read as a stand-alone season 10 established relationship tidbit, OR as the season 10 epilogue to House of String that I'm never going to write because I literally already have 21 chapters of content and that's just through season 9. If you've been suffering from all the pining in the recent updates, this is a bit of an antidote to that :)

But either way, the interior of Pearl's base, and in particular her double bed next to a wall of trap doors has HAUNTED me (/pos) since she ran around her base in hide and seek with Gem. Something about the vibe just gave me "sunlight streaming through shutters at sunrise" and now you gave me an excuse to write that!!!

Plus Pearl clearly designed a bedroom and actual living space in her base, while Mumbo just makes a giant storage system as a base and sometimes puts a bed places. So the idea that he still is making his base, but actually sleeps and lives at Pearl's is the premise for this setup.

🌙 🌙 🌙

The sound of the last shulker whirling shut echoes through Pearl's storage room.

There is truly nothing as satisfying as a neatly organized storage room with a set of perfectly prepared shulkers right in the middle, ready to be picked up on the way to a brand new build the next morning. Sure, Pearl likes the update this season where they can add text and images to the boxes. It's helpful and does make it easier to know at a glance what is in each box, but there is something so familiar and soothing about a classic, color-coded row of shulkers prepped for an exciting new build.

Now that she's stopped banging around her storage room opening and closing chests, there's a silence that settles over the space. It's a rare sound on Hermitcraft which is why she loves the peace and quiet that only comes in the dead of night.

She loves the chaos and mischief and joy that the other hermits bring to her life. She does. She loves them all more than she could ever describe. But she also has big plans for her builds each season that require lots of time and effort to not only design, but to construct and refine until they are exactly as perfect as she knows they can be. And it's hard to be productive when her communicator is constantly blowing up with Scar's death messages. Or when a wild Gem can appear out of the sky at any moment. Or when Keralis has some new ideas for the flower and dyes shop or when Ren is looking for an extra person to play Hungry Hermits with or when Grian breaks the mail system again or or or or or.

There is always a distraction looking for her during the daylight hours. It's so easy to have a full, busy, wonderful day where she makes zero progress on any of her projects. Which is why she keeps staying up so late season after season.

Sure she could try to fix her sleep schedule this year now that Mumbo is staying with her full time. He's always yawning by 9:30 and crawling into bed by 10. But she likes being able to get some focus time in when the rest of the hermits are fast asleep. Or at the very least deterred from dropping in unannounced by the ever present threat of mobs lurking in every shadow.

And Mumbo doesn't seem to mind that she drifts down to her study as he drifts up to bed.

Pearl does mind though that her dogs seem to have universally decided that sleeping in a comfy, warm bed is better than keeping her company late into the night. Sure the cats are still awake with her, watching her with their reflective eyes as Pearl makes her way up from the storage room to her and Mumbo's bedroom.  But it's not quite the same as previous seasons when she'd regularly been making design updates late at night with a dog curled up at her feet.

But when she open the door to their bedroom, she does get numerous sets of dark eyes turning to look up at her illuminated in the dull glow streaming in through the crack in the door. Mumbo, as always, is completely passed out, rolled on his side and sleeping right through the sound of her quietly slipping into their bedroom. Her valiant guard dogs, however, silently watch Pearl's nightly routine of she softly padding over to the closet to get changed and ready for bed. And, just like every night, once she is finally ready to climb into bed there is a series of soft thump as her babies jump down to clear her side of the bed and give her room to crawl under the covers.

There's one final round of shuffling and adjusting before the whole Pearl/Mumbo compound is settled for the night. There's the soft click of dog paws against the floor as her puppos find their places curled in corners and at the foot of the bed, the rustle of bedsheets as Pearl tucks herself in behind Mumbo, and finally the quite breath Mumbo lets out each night as Pearl curls around him.

When Pearl mentioned this little routine to him, Mumbo swore up and down that he slept right through her shuffling around and he had no idea when she finally ended up coming to bed each night.

While she initially assumed he was just being cute and polite for her sake, the longer they lived together, the more Pearl was inclined to believe him. He really didn't give any indication of being awake each night as she has moved around their bedroom opening drawers and shutting doors as she got ready for bed. But there is a soft noise that he make every night without fail as Pearl curls up again his back, tucking her face between his shoulder blades and into the soft fabric of his well-worn sleep shirt. Pearl almost likes the idea that he isn’t awake and aware that this happens better. It means that even asleep, there is some part of him that's waiting for her to come into bed. A part that doesn’t fully relax until he feels her warmth beside him. And once she's there, he can finally relax, letting out a soft sigh, barely audible over the rustle of leaves outside. She even thinks sometimes that she can feel the last bit of nervous tension easing out of his shoulders as she nuzzles into him, inhaling the smell of soap and fresh cotton.

It's become a familiar enough scent that even after to most chaotic days it helps calm Pearl's thoughts, helping her drift off to sleep under the warm covers to the sounds of Mumbo's even breathing beside her.

🔆 🔆 🔆

Now that Mumbo has had the pleasure of waking up with the sunrise, he's not sure he could ever go back.

There is no jarring alarm or unexpected buzzing from a communicator to jolt him awake. No sharp, sudden distinction between peaceful sleep and full consciousness. Instead, the sunlight filters through the copper trap doors that make up the walls of his and Pearl's bedroom each morning, slowly bringing him to awareness as the day begins.

The soft sound of the birds outside and the warm light against his eyelids is the first thing he's aware of most mornings now. Which wakes him up just enough so he can shifts around and reach out for the warm body even his subconscious knows is sleeping beside him. But the first tendrils of consciousness aren't satisfied with just knowing Pearl is there in the bed next to him, they want her closer and go seeking her out, gathering her sluggishly into his arms and pulling her into him.

That's one of the few things that can still jolt Mumbo awake now; reaching out and his hazy, half asleep brain not finding Pearl within reach. The first time he reached out to find nothing but a cold pillow and the furry back of an equally confused dog blinking back at him, he had startled awake, fumbling for his communicator with the terrible feeling that something bad had to have happened. If Pearl wasn't in bed, Pearl must be missing and in danger, his barely awake brain had concluded. His worried messages, which his brain had not been conscious enough to remember to whisper rather than put in the general Hermitcraft chat, had been greeted by a sheepish Pearl admitting she may have been so focused on her project that she hadn't notice the birds had started singing to tell her she had worked all the way through to sunrise. The messages had also been fantastic fodder for all of his friends to tease him for the rest of the week, even if most of it was good natured teasing about how cute him and Pearl were together.

But this morning isn't one of those unfortunate rare days he wakes up alone, so when Mumbo rolls over his arm curls around Pearl to pull her into his chest. Sometimes he catches a half mumbled 'good morning' or even a sleepy kiss if she rolls into his chest, but this morning she just wraps her arms around his and snuggles back against him with just the barest bit of fleeting consciousness that he knows will be gone again by the time he's fully awake.

But he's in no rush. These warm, cozy moments curled up together each morning are some of his favorite each day and he's not eager to end them too soon. So he spends a few more minutes letting his consciousness slowly come on line, becoming more aware of the world around him as his brain cells wake up one by one.

First, he starts to hear the leaves rustling outside and can feel their movement shift the pattern of sunlight against his eyes lids. He starts to notice the smell Pearl's shampoo and can feel her leg brush against his as she shifts again in his arms. And finally, he hears the click of nails on the floor as their dogs start to grow impatient in their wait for breakfast.

Which is his cue that his precious morning moments are drawing to a close and it's almost time to get up for the day.

By the time he finally opens his eyes, there is already 3 pairs of black dog eyes staring at him over the edge of the bed. The dogs are smart enough to know that Mumbo looking at them means breakfast is soon, and they can stop giving him pleading looks in bed and can go sit quietly by the bedroom door. But they are also smart enough to know that it will be another few minutes before he gets up, taking a few more moments to appreciate the warm, quite mornings now that he's actually awake enough to take everything in.

But Mumbo knows the dogs won’t wait forever, and there's a long list of things he wants to get started on before the rest of the server wakes up and starts causing chaos. So Mumbo presses a kiss to Pearl's temple and slowly detangles himself from her and the warm covers. There's a little grumble she always lets out as he does, but he attributes that more to the sudden chill as he slips out from under the covers rather than her being conscious of him leaving. He knows that by the time he comes back upstairs to change out of his pajamas, she'll be sound asleep, sprawled cross the bed and taking up more space than a single human should be capable of.

But right now, the most pressing concern is the flock of dogs patiently waiting at the bedroom door for him to get breakfast started, and the growing feeling that hot cup of tea sounds like a great idea right about now.

[deaddeerdonoteat]

The Time Loop, the Doppelgänger, and The Hollow Men

The Afterparty begs for time loop fics because it’s a series that revolves around a tragic event that is 100% preventable. Alas, the real world offers no take-backs or do-overs for murder. And so, we have to make our own fun.

There is a poem by Karl Shapiro called “Auto Wreck.” I read it at a young age, and it’s one of those things that stuck itself to a corner of my brain. I have never been able to dislodge it. The poem is about the aftermath of a car accident, obviously. These are the last four lines:

Earlier in the poem, the speaker writes, “Already old, the question Who shall die?/Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?” I often think of these lines when I think about sudden death, and they’re especially interesting questions in the context of Xavier’s death. Xavier’s death isn’t accidental; instead, it is the result of an action that is meant to cause harm, but that isn’t the immediate cause of death. Being pushed from a balcony is just different enough from being stabbed in the back that a certain murderer might be able to dissociate from the part he played in the death. That gap of time when Xavier is falling is like the split-second collision in the auto wreck; it is the moment that you want to take back, the moment when things should have gone differently. In many car crashes there is also a brief moment between when the car meets whatever stops it and when the bodies inside the car stop moving. (If you are in the car, you may be sitting still, but your body is moving through space at the same speed that the car is traveling along the road.) The weightless moment of a fall, the weightless moment of impact, these are the moments you can’t take back.

Except that you can take them back if you put everyone in a time loop. Two shots.

I think Xavier is fascinating because he’s one of the characters where we don’t get a POV episode—and he’s the pivotal character. The show would not exist without his murder. But because of how he is presented to us, we can project a lot of things onto him. We don’t know how normal his behavior at the reunion is for him. We don’t know whether people like him as an adult (but we surmise that they don’t). We don’t know whether fame is fun or taxing for him. We only see Xavier through other people’s eyes.

Xavier is awful, but I’m so charmed by how Dave Franco pushes back against the idea that Xavier is indelibly awful in this interview (at around 9:25). He doesn’t try to argue that Xavier isn’t awful, he just wants it to be known that there’s still a person in there who went through shit in high school just like everyone else. Even Aniq agrees. In episode 8, he says: “We all have more in common than I thought. Even Brett. Even Xavier. We all need each other.”

Speaking of Aniq, I think he and Eugene really do have a lot in common, perhaps more than either of them realize. What was my first clue? Their color schemes.

Hear me out: in this interview about the costuming for the show, they note “that Xavier is the only Hilmount [sic] High alum who doesn't follow the show's costume color-coding” and go on to quote the costumer as saying: "Because he became a completely different person. He went from being Eugene in 2006 to being Xavier in present time." I think it’s a misunderstanding to say that Xavier doesn’t follow the color-coding; I think he does, but he follows it as two different people.

This might be a bit of a stretch, but I think Eugene’s color is blue, and I’m basing it on the fact that he wore an outfit that was seventy-five percent blue denim to the St. Patrick’s Day party. This is Eugene who is trying to become Xavier, so he’s still showing his true colors, so to speak. Fully assimilated Xavier wears purple, but Eugene still wears blue. Oh, but Aniq wears blue? Yes, exactly. But they’re so different, you say?

They’re actually not. They are both socially awkward—but Eugene repels people by faking who he is, while Aniq can only be genuine. They both apply for Stanford—but Aniq gets in, while Eugene is waitlisted. One might assume that Eugene’s money helped him get that far, but presumably he has something else to offer: clubs and extracurriculars, grades, SAT scores, something. Based on this, I would suggest that they are both high-achievers who expect some degree of success for their efforts. They both want to have Yasper’s attention—but Aniq doesn’t question that he’ll get it, while Eugene tries more than once to reinforce a bond between them, pointing out that the license plate was because of Yasper and then, in Walt’s backyard, throwing a “How great is this party?!” Yasper’s way. In fact, Eugene only attacks Aniq because he sees him as being at fault for Yasper’s decision to go solo.

Crucially, when they are fighting they mirror one another to the extent that, for an awkward amount of time, their fight goes nowhere. They literally use the same moves on one another. As they fight, Yasper cries out, “Guys, c’mon, we’re friends, everybody’s friends!” Surely this is, on some level, an example of Yasper’s wishful thinking. But I also think it’s not a stretch to imagine that they were friends. Not good friends, but the kind of friends you are when you’ve known each other since middle school—maybe even since elementary school—and so you have put up with competing against one another and sharing your real friends for all this time. You might not like each other, but as an adult you will look back and realize how much you were in one another’s lives.

Back to the function of a time loop. In “The Hollow Men,” T. S. Eliot writes:

This is the moment we seek to correct via time travel. It is the moment between the thought “I’ll kill him” and the punch in the face. How long that moment takes is up for debate. I think it is worth noting that Ben Schwartz says: “I don’t think he went into it thinking he was going to kill him. I think the way he was treated throughout the entire night built up so much and he realized he just doesn’t have anything. He’s never going to reach his dreams, he’s just going to be this A/V guy and nobody respects him.”

Still, we don’t actually know what happened between Xavier and Yasper before Xavier went over the balcony, and it is hard to know from the show itself how premeditated the murder was. We hear Detective Danner’s summary of it, and narratively that is enough to satisfy us, but that’s not Yasper’s point-of-view. Then again, does Yasper’s recounting of the evening mean anything? We know it cannot be accurate, and yet there are revealing moments that don’t feel like something made up by a Yasper who could have eliminated them to make himself look better. In Yasper’s episode, we see Xavier look sad for a moment when Yasper asks him to bless his track. We see Yasper look up at Xavier and Brett fighting on the balcony, then say, “It’s all falling apart.”

The time loop works to fix the central tragedy by expanding that moment “between the motion and the act.” In expanding the moment, one assumes that, given sufficient time, the murderer will be able to rethink his actions and discover what it is he truly wants (@yasperapologist’s Turn Back Time). Or that expanded moment becomes a loop of repetition until the event no longer makes sense (A Roman Holiday). In this scenario, the outcome is the same—Xavier is not murdered—but it is not clear whether Yasper has really changed or come to terms with himself in any meaningful way. He believes, at the end, that he will carry around the potential for murder his entire life.

So far in writing time loop fics there’s been a lot of space given to Yasper (because it’s Yasper who needs to not do the killing), but obviously Turn Back Time also has a heavy focus on Aniq. I’m pretty intrigued by this brand-new idea, however, which posits not just a time loop but a full-on Final Destination type of alternate universe in which everyone (and apparently everything) wants to kill Xavier, so he has to cozy up to his initial murderer to save himself.

Finally, I think, sometimes, about a loop that never ends, and an eternal sameness lived by two hollow men, one who murdered the other. This would be hell, of course, and possibly deserved. But then the question is, can you grow in hell? Can you change in the between moments even if you never escape?

[no-shxme]

What are some headcanons you have about Katarina and Talons (both just for th characters themselves and what they are like as siblings?)

AHH okay lemme break down my answers,, assuming this is all canonverse then...

TALON AND KAT:

i think katarina flat out hated him at first. bc he was sent to kill her and now marcus flaunts him like he's his new and improved 'better child', since katarina's failed him, even though tal fucked up by not being able to kill her too. she hates him and she hates marcus and she sees EXACTLY what he's trying to pull but she still hates him, and that's something else to hate in itself. and i think the first stretch of siblinghood is spent in very tense animosity, where kat is just dying to kill him. she wants him to fuck up again, she wants to see him go through the same pain that she went through. talon is like a traumatized baby bird. he's got no idea about any of this family shit. she wants to see him fail. she wants him to realize that family is just a whole lotta bullshit and totally not what he might have dreamt of.

this is ofc, her point of view. i think talon doesn't have any real pre-concieved notion of family and she's kinda like, projecting her idea of what it must be like to be him--onto him. in reality talon feels so out of place and he is really trying to keep the general happy bc that's his master, not his father. he doesn't even know what a father IS really. like what a concept. so he has not been dreaming of a family. he HAS been dreaming of a bed and safety and enough food every day so that's really what he cares about.

i THINK however, katarina is not immune to him being young. and as talon starts to get a taste of du couteau treatment she starts to warm up to him a lil bit, in the way that she's not trying to actively murder him. she is disillusioned from her family by this point. i think she can't help but see he's inherently vulnerable. (this is a whole other post) and doesn't know a lot. when kat was young and went through father's 'training' she at least had cassiopeia, and talon doesn't have ANYONE. and I think she is not immune to him going through that and her having to act like she doesn't really care.

imo she starts to see talon as herself, like this is father's do-over, and she doesn't want father to have the satisfaction of having that impossible, flawless child. and if it's father's do-over, then it's HER do-over too. so i think she starts talking to him a lil bit, and things get a little better from there. I don't think they're ever like, full sibling siblings, but they're able to understand each other more, and help each other out sometimes.

i think kat is protective of him and is lowkey trying to pry him out of marcus' claws. i dont think talon is protective of her, but he can trust her enough to talk to her about some things, and that's like, a BIG deal for talon. i dont think talon considers them siblings, just some nebulous connection he doesn't really know how to define. i think (PRETENDING KATARINA COMIC NEVER HAPPENED) if he was asked to kill her again he would go for it and then either find himself unable to or really question himself afterwards and not really understand it.

additionally i like the idea of kat with garen because garen gets along with his sister!! and kat might see that and want that with cass and talon too.

EXTRA HEADCANONS FOR KAT:

compulsively acts out for attention (this means violently too, or when she's fighting all flashy)

really loud without meaning to when she gets riled up.

no matter what she can't end up completely hating her father, and she doesn't understand why.

hates cilantro (she has The Gene)

HEADCANONS FOR TALON: (there are many many many)

antisocial personality disorder, aromantic, prolly some autism flavors.

can't share food due to food insecurity

ABSOLUTELY WILD ANIMAL CODED 🤯 deep down he thirsts for greater wilds.

despises the cold.

easily manipulated/exploited due to his inherent naivety. (can't read.)

hates being bad at things.

related: doesn't like killing as much as the security that comes from killing, and also the fact that he's already good at it.

teefs a lil fucked up.

favorite food is tacos.

doomed to never feel like he fits in.

desperately wants to be perfect because if he's perfect then he's Safe and can fucking Relax for once.

he doesn't love marcus. in fact at first he fears him, because marcus is the only person that's beaten him.

etc etc

thank you for the ask anon!!! i have a sibling fic in the works actually, with talon and kat but it's not due until sometime next year, if i post it.

[shinakazami1]

Rhys AI au snippet nr 2 - Personal project

Jack used to love fast travel years ago and while he still found them as if not more useful, his body seemed to disagree. For whatever reason, it was his muscles that kept getting smitten by it. It didn't matter that he felt them already on the planet - he still could run errands quite well, and there was nothing a bit of healing couldn't fix. Too bad that didn't work on the nausea that kept lingering for a day.

He gave a finger gun and a wink to the secretary - whoever this one was, and walked into his office.

"Welcome back, handsome."

"Hiya Rhysie! Missed me?"

"Always, it's not like you carry me in your echo watch everywhere."

Jack bounced from one leg to the other, and then with a last swirl sat in his throne, to turn on the computer.

"Jack, you will have a meeting in two hou-"

"I know I know, cupcake, don't remind me. Dahl just wants to lose some men and piss me off. They are really taking that l in the name seriously."

"Because they're losers."

"Precisely! But there I got my morning coffee by lessening the bandit... number..."

"Hm? Is something wrong?"

Jack's brows furrowed.  As per usual, he first checked his echo device, to see if anyone tried to spy on him. He never thought it was likely for bandits to figure out how to multitask, and since they were all busy dying, they certainly wouldn't even think about doing something like that. It didn't mean, however, that someone else couldn't use that thinking and opportunity to their advantage.

Seeing the few gigabytes added to Rhys' files was not something he expected. He thought he encrypted and hid the guy's code well enough for nobody to even be able to tell he was even there but the number of gigabytes added from the past copy seemed just too suspicious.

"Rhysie, are you feeling any... Different?"

"Different in what way, sir?"

"Heavier."

After a moment of silence, Rhys sighed.

"I really don't think comments about weight are good for your image, sir. It can come as really-"

"No, as in yes, I know that but- I meant your files. Had anything happened to them? "

"Happened?"

"Yeah like, like uh, something was added. Your travel notes are never THAT heavy, even if they are boring."

"I try to get all the details out there and it's not my fault you need everything to be a dopamine rush experience. I like focusing on things that might be useful."

"That one Loader Bot corpse still hadn't come in handy, Rhysie."

"It has been as we updated their shields and weak spots."

"Yeah, it's pretty funny how their crotch was--wait, we are getting off the topic. And you're not panicking so, this means you know what the additional files are."

"You could always open them, sir."

"Yes, since I see it's your encriptions system but what is this supposed to be, kiddo? You working for someone else?"

"You know that's impossible. If I were to do that, I would just cease to exist. You made me this way."

Once the code breaker finished encrypting the files, Jack opened the folder and felt his brows furrow even further.

"Pictures."

"Yes."

"Of what."

"I... Would prefer for you not to open them. I'm going to count the sand grains on them when I'm bored."

"What's the password."

"Jack, you told me I can have my personal project."

"Personal doesn't mean secret. What is this, huh? Are you planning to sell these pictures somewhere? Maybe get some of my angles on Echo Net?"

"No... it's a stupid little project."

'And you would know that if you already opened it but you want to torment me', Rhys thought.  Yet, he decided Jack's blood pressure was already getting into grade 3  hypertension, so he wasn't going to make him angrier.

It was Jack's weird way to show trust but also, to assert dominance and Rhys never understood why humans wasted their energy on being a walking box for paradoxes.

"Sooooo... Cupcake, short and simple. What are these pictures."

"Of you. Sir."

Jack was really checking the boundaries of furrowing eyebrows.

"Rhysie, I was just joking about selling some pictures on Echo Net. Are you..."

"I do edit them, sir. Personal project."

For the first time since Jack Sat next to the desk, his facial muscles finally relaxed, letting the eyebrows rest. Something seemed to click in Jack's brain, letting him not feel in danger anymore.

"The new posters! My, you've been trying to get them out before my birthday to make me a present? Rhysie, you know I hate surprises! I despise them and I could in fact destroy you for one! You should remember it by now! Especially since I check the propaganda to seem most a-hole-like! "

"Yes, and you do a great job with it. A true antihero."

"A true anti-villain. Which is a hero."

"Of course, sir."

"Well then - show me the pictures, Rhys."

Rhys saw that the 'sweet' mode didn't lower Jack's pressure. He liked to shift in emotions so much to make people confused but Rhys was - well, rather embarrassed to say what the photos were actually about. He was happy to have at least had the project hidden for a few weeks, keeping the amount in control but for the past few weeks of Jack just killing bandits most of the time, he had enough time to spare on that.

He knew Jack would take a look somehow without him knowing one way or another. And with how little censor he had on himself, Rhys wasn't willing to risk getting back to the Nice Kid phase. Jack's poster acting was top notch - but the fake familiarity was a technique many fell for. Rhys fortunately couldn't.

But in the end, Jack got what he asked for, as usual.

"These... You've made my body, right sir? You remember that 3D model you've made?"

"Cupcake, I don't work, I commissioned someone to get your sweet ass there. Get to the point."

"You hadn't let me use it for a while now and I thought that I still like it. So, since it's in my programming, I... Just open the first picture, sir."

Jack didn't even let the mouse twitch for a moment. He wanted Rhys to open it, to commit to confessing to whatever bad thing he imagined but Rhys only found it stupid.

Unfortunately for him, though, the anxiety protocol, while a bit tamer than in the past, was still strong. And Rhys was really not looking forward to repeating the last time it got too high, especially since Jack made it this much better for this whole mission he has been on. And Rhys really didn't want to feel something so unbearable nearly all the time, again.

With the need to just get it over with, Rhys opened the newest file and waited for Jack's reaction.

There was a momentary spike in blood pressure but just a moment later, both it and the pulse lowered. The analysis of Jack's facial muscles made Rhys relax again, as the anger and frustration morphed into joy and laughter.

"Rhysie, I know I have been upgrading you with the generative processes but you still like the old photo manipulation ways but this, this is just hilarious! Are- oh my god all of them are like this?! How many edits have you made?"

At that moment, Rhys was very happy not to have a visible face, since he probably wouldn't be able to look at Jack for too long from the embarrassment he probably should feel.

"I... We have been going on these journeys together for a while now and I thought it would be...a nice thing. I have been browsing EchoNet and noticing that people like to take pictures like that. And I want to keep some memory of being on these trips with you."

The folder contained pictures of Jack, from different angles, mostly from the echo watch, and Rhys' body edited into such a level of precision, that it would be hard to tell they were edited at all.

"And the facial expressions..."

"I added them to the model, based on data I've gathered. It wasn't hard to edit the rig and get that to work."

"Wowie, Rhysie, but these..." Rhys let Jack gather his thoughts. "These need to be deleted."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, nobody should know what you look like. Delete them, immediately."

"I...no! They are well encrypted, you have seen that! And without me, they can never open them. Nothing bad will happen, Jack. Nobody is going to try and steal me."

Jack was skimming through the pictures, seeing the model seem to look like it was holding the device to take the picture and ground himself more into the scene. Smiling, eating together, riding in cars and... just looking at a sunset together, backs facing the camera.

"I won't delete them, Jack. And I ask you not to delete them, either. I worked hard on these and I want to keep them. They will never go anywhere but just on the drive."

"Why would you want to keep a memory like that?"

Rhys felt it was a trap question with no good answer. Nothing he would have said would be able to exactly revert the process, but, he knew Jack wasn't exactly in patient moment for him to analyse each answer.

"I thought it would be nice to share these with you, to remind you I was there."

Rhys didn't expect Jack to leave the office without the echo watch. He rarely did that. If it was for the bathroom - even if he had one hidden in the office, or it was to cool down, it wasn't important.

If the pictures still stayed - they would stay there. And that was enough for Rhys.

Jack wanted him to develop a hobby and there it was.

Nothing bad could come out of it.

[afriendlypatontheback]

i absolutely love your takes and i agree with you SM i feel the same way about all that talk surounding finn's sexuality, imo some people are trying to cope so hard by deflecting why people are posting those things but it is still a fact, like just take a look at how many people agree or find that tweet funny..there's a reason for that people 🧐 it's not based on history lines but more by the characters itself, finn tends to choose or get casted to play similar characters and he agrees to it first like you said, people even created the gay fcu ( gay finn cinematic universe ) to post about all these characters that are clearly gay/bi coded trought all his career and that's for a reason as well, it's noticeble and i can't make this shit up finn seems confused by it at times but i feel like he's trolling in most interviews simply bc he thinks it's funny.. imo he's playing in people's face all the time, does anyone remember when he said that his character in IT wasn't gay or when he said that his character theo kissing the other dude was just a russian way of greeting? 😭

no wonder people think that and have questions about it, it's only natural. he seems to dance around the answer quite a lot.. i do feel tho that his journey with identity has more to do with him as a person and that aspect of who i am as an adult and not as a teenager/kid anymore than with his sexuality perse, but i don't feel like people who think it might be about that are wrong at all for having those thoughts, especially when finn himself or even his own band mates endup putting that idea out there, like helloooo, wake up ppl 🤒

Ok anon here you go, thanks for the patience lol

The thing about finn for me is that I've seen it happen too many times where people start to believe that a public person might be queer and they leech onto that idea and start to be too loud about it, trying to prove to others that they're right instead of just being patient and letting the person do their own internal work and be the owner of their narrative. It becomes about yourself being right rather than supporting the possibility of the person being queer you know? And of course it makes the person in question uncomfortable, no one really likes when people either make wrong assumptions about you or when they're right but they're stealing your right to maintain it a secret or to say the thing yourself, they're basically outing you. Or, they're making it a bigger deal than you think it should be. So this is why I'm not a huge fan of people making public assumptions and wish they were more careful with some jokes made in public.

But at the same time, I don't see harm in talking about the possibility with clear supportive intent without fully assuming you're right or wrong about it. I've been wrong before and I didn't die, I'm sure none of us will lmao. Basically, i can't speak for him obviously but if i was queer and saw people being supportive about the possibility, it would give me more courage to be frank about it - but seeing them assuming and just trying to prove themselves would be annoying as hell. So yeah I don't think we need to cover up that a lot of things may point out to Finn being queer and those things are pure facts as long as we keep our minds open. It's not projecting, it just is what it is.

And then again i guess it's a bit naive to think people are capable of not being like that, you know? We can't really control or change what others do or think, every single time I've been involved in similar situations people acted like that and then the person turned out to be straight or they came out and immediately expressed how annoyed they were with the situation and how that made it harder for them to come out. All I can do is be try to understand and be the person i think others should be, idk

That being said, yeah you could be right about him trolling - I honestly have no idea! When I was 13-17 i had absolutely no idea of my sexuality, I would say i was straight without even thinking, even though all of my fav celebrities were either masculine women or feminine men lmao. Sometimes what's obvious to others are not obvious to us until we do grow up. But also sometimes people do know they're queer even when they're a child, so it really depends. Now some recent things... like him being lowkey flirty with paul rudd... it could be trolling, I see it lol.

Also yeah! I don't think the whole identity talk is about sexuality only, it really could be anything or many things, but I agree at this point it wouldn't surprise me if it was a big part of it

[vilevexedvixen]

AU OC: Caterina Bressi / "Cat"

Disclaimer: My final write-up for mine and @dariusblake's AU's Tetch diverts quite a bit from what happens here. I had written a sizable chunk about an OC called "Cat" and idk if anyone would be interested in reading any of this but I just don't want to delete my notes on this version of her entirely so... Here they are I guess?

Caterina Bressi or "Cat" had been one of the people eager to test Tetch's pet project in that initial incident. Even once the realisation dawned on her that she was trapped in Tetch's Wonderland, she didn't care. She still had the old headset from before. She'd tried using it after Tetch's arrest but was unable to connect to anything. That was, until the "re-opening" of Wonderland by Walker. It seemed that whatever changes may have been made weren't so extensive to make the old headsets incompatible with the new system.

Her family specialised dealing in information and drugs. Over the years, they've had to update their operations to suit the new digital age and now make a bulk of their money from data-broking. Proving more profitable to sell their services to bypass security measures or give out information to people hoping to scam or blackmail people than to do so themselves, and a lot easier to cover their tracks to disconnect themselves from any crimes they may be connected to. Often using their surveilance of Gotham's underground activity to out their rivals to police or (more recently) to Batman, who'd spared them the brunt of his wrath on his violent escapades cracking down on Gotham's biggest mob families. The Bressis are small-fries by comparison, and it pays to have eyes on the inside.

Even being in the police's "good graces", and their straddling of legal loopholes, their seeming immunity from the law didn't eliminate the paranoia that their clients and rivals might (as they had before) want to given them a taste of their own medicine if their little dealings went south. Cat had long suffered numbness and muscle weakness that made her an easy target if someone wanted to use her to hurt her family over business matters, so she was kept protected at home. Practically bed-bound even if she could've gotten around with mobility aids if they'd let her. Surely they realised she wasn't some precious MacGuffin? It's hard to tell apart smothering from choking once protection edges into control.

Perhaps foolishly, she'd hoped honing her coding skills and becoming an asset in her family's virtual dealings would prove she's capable enough to defend herself from being targeted, especially now that Batman's locked up most of their enemies. By that point, it'd take extensive physiotherapy to regain what mobility she would've had if she was allowed to go about her life. Something she's more than willing to do, but reaching out or convincing a physiotherapist to come to their family's home would be... difficult to say the least.

While teaching herself to code, Cat frequented some of the forums Jervis was active on and was intrigued when he started posting about a little side-project he'd been working on using the same tech that was being used for the kinds of braces she might need to get back on her feet (quite literally). The cabin fever that had been slowly driving her mad was briefly assuaged while she was trapped in Wonderland. Everything felt so real in spite of the fantastical surroundings. She can't remember the last time she'd been allowed to run wild, literally or figuratively, and now? She was practically flying!

Before Walker reached out to Tetch she was desperately trying to contact him. Not just to return to Wonderland, but also because she genuinely enjoyed talking to him. Like Tetch, all either of them really had was the company they curated online so to suddenly have them go radio silent sent her spiraling. He was the only person who really understood her, it seemed. Who really felt for her situation (or at least what she shared of it) like a kindred spirit. Alone in the world together!

She never asks for much. Doubtful that Tetch would agree to meet her in their family home, nor would she be allowed outside for any prolonged period of time to meet a stranger. Once she found Tetch's address, she cashed in on the years she's spent playing dollhouse and convincing her father to send some of his goons to bring Tetch back and have him supervised so he doesn't lay a hand on her under their watch. It's funny, he was remarkably cooperative apparently, like he didn't realise they were abducting him until after they'd reach their territory. In truth, Tetch couldn't drive and Walker had someone drive Tetch to his new workplace since the labs were out of town and not easily accessible by public transport. It wasn't unreasonable to assume he'd be called back after hours, or that his usual driver was on sick leave. Tetch's dawning confusion honestly tickled Cat, but was subsumed by an overwhelming excitement to meet the man himself! He was honestly flattered that someone would be so eager to meet him, much like he was with Walker. Assuming that this eagerness was keenly related to business and not personal affection, hours passed in conversation over his project (both the old and whatever Walker allowed to be shared of the new). The moment he got up to leave however was when he finally noticed the goons that had been posted outside to keep watch, blocking the doorway out of Cat's room.

Had Tetch been easy to contact online still, she might not have been so anxious to keep him there, but she wasn't sure if he'd ever want to meet again. Despite what confidence he'd built up over the course of his recovery in and outside of Arkham, it didn't seem the smartest idea to force his way past several armed lackies and... something about all this seemed familiar. A familiar desperate sadness he recognised in himself from when he'd her and his other "friends" all that time ago. Mutual loneliness isn't the best foundation for a friendship, but he felt compelled to stay and help somehow.

For the most part, Wonderland was already out the door and Tetch's team was mainly working on updates and bug fixes, he can just phone in, say he's on holiday for the time being - yes! He won't be missed... No, he would be! Just best not to let people worry, that's all. Cat allowed him to make the call, just making sure to obscure the location so he couldn't be traced back to their hideout. As it turns out, his company alone proved remarkably helpful, by Cat's own admission. The praise and love she showered on him was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. And her interest to go out of her way to see him, why, no one had ever been so fond of his company before either! Truthfully, the affection was going to his head a little, like a warm fog making time pass quicker. Before long a fortnight passed! During that time Tetch had gradually helped Cat venture outside her room, a literal and figurative support for her to get back on her feet since her father had denied her any mobility aids in fear she might wonder out into the city and get herself killed. A ludicrous fear, but Tetch being meek enough to disuade from helping her leave he trusted him to be her aid within the confines of their hideout. The abode was comfortable enough, though unsettled by the consistent reminders that he couldn't leave quite yet. Cat suggested, after studying his work, to adapt Wonder OS not just simulate sensation and movement, but stimulate it too! It felt wonderful feeling like the agent of her own story in Wonderland, so she outlined a mobility aid idea she'll happily be the guinnea pig for! Tetch was hesitant though. He hadn't considered direct control of the user's body before, beyond suppressing some parts to avoid injury during gameplay, but it made sense. Like using just the electrodes instead of the full prosthetics they made in his old lab, like invisible strings. It took a while for any progress to be made beyond twitches and uncoordinated movements, so they worked on building back her mobility in other ways in the meantime - combining the tests with their usual routine until eventually... she was able to stand entirely on her own! The weakness and aches weren't gone and she'd still need to rest regularly, but now she might be able to show her Dad she's not so "helpless" anymore. Frankly it irked Cat to no end that his outlook of her was so black and white - either a frail flower to hide so no one could pick them, or robust robot who could operate without oversight. Regardless she could feel his grip softening and jumped at the opportunity to leave. For a day or forever, both sounded marvelous! As fond as Tetch was growing to Cat, honestly it was starting to feel like he'd never get out. She was lovely, he truly felt undeserving of all the attention she gave him, but this was no Wonderland. He couldn't stay here forever. They moved into his apartment where he'd recovered some of his old tech originally confiscated by the GCPD then reclaimed by Walker for him to keep tinkering with in the lead-up to Wonderland's launch, now with the new mobility aid to add to his toolkit for refinement.

Despite her newfound freedom, Cat rarely wanted to enjoy any of it alone. Be it errands or activities, anything SHE wanted to do HE had to do with her even if he was busy with work or premade plans. If she had nothing on her agenda, she'd tag along with whatever Tetch was doing, being granted special permissions by Walker (at Tetch's request, after some prodding) to be allowed around his workplace. He barely went to the book club anymore, and was starting to forget to have his morning tea before either he'd be making haste for work or whisked away to wherever Cat was itching to go.

The hugs and pecks were a delightful surprise at first, but her grip around his arm was seemingly getting tighter and he found himself flinching away at her touch more and more. It felt wrong to do that. Surely this is exactly what he wanted before? Someone who loved him so dearly and unconditionally?

More and more often, she insisted they go explore Gotham's nightlife in spite of his insistence that he doesn't like to drink. Still, getting to return to the Goth bar he'd made so many friends in was a welcome return to form. It was nice to be greeted by so many familiar faces. Not for long though, he hadn't five minutes to enjoy his old friends' company before Cat yanked him back out the door and onto the next place. A much more overwhelming club that was far to busy and blaringly loud for his liking. Were Cat not practically stitched to his sleeve he'd have easily lost track of her in there. A fact she relished in toying with. Swimming through the crowd with ease, always keenly aware of he was while he could barely stay afloat and ended up stranded in a booth to ground himself.

There she'd emerge from the crowd at least twice an hour with more drinks. He'd refused the first round, but felt peer pressure start to seep in as a small cluster of untouched drinks formed. Even if he didn't drink them all, just one wouldn't hurt right? As he'd remembered, the unpleasantly hard hit of alcohol got to him too quick for comfort. That didn't assuage her though. Expectantly glaring amid pleasantries with the small crowd she'd accrued over the course of the night. Relieved to see some of them take a glass for themselves, hopeful that he'd get to stop at one, but even with their help still two were left to drink. He could've sworn they'd been fizzy, perhaps he'd sat so long they'd gone flat?

Before he knew it, he'd finished the lot but couldn't remember even picking up either one. In fact... Wait it's morning? Where- ah, finally back home, but... when did they get back?! He bolted up from the sofa he'd clearly collapsed on still fully dressed sometime in the night. A patchwork of various stains tattering his shirt, some bright and others greyed.

(At this point I was having second thoughts about the direction of the story so I scrapped and reworked most of it)

[mindfang-srevenge]

I'm still on the topic so here's Static's Official Dancestor Coffee Tier List, of which of course means ranking the Dancestors based on who's going to be the best to go out and get coffee with. Not strictly in a date sense; just in a hangout sense.

Aranea. Before she went power hungry she was a nice, genial woman who told rambling stories. She will ensure the conversation never falls flat, but also she will definitely notice when your eyes glaze over and she's completely used to it. She's just nice and chill and-- when not trying desperately to live up to Mindfang's shadow-- wants to be nice to other people. You have a positive experience getting coffee with Aranea and she seems completely genuine about it.

Porrim's a feminist! And you're going to know that Porrim is a feminist. But she has enough other hobbies that it waters down the extreme social justice (unlike Kankri, who has no other hobbies). She's probably working on a really cool sewing project and is willing to tell you all about it. She wears nice jewelry and nice makeup and has nice tattoos. She may try to ask you back to her place afterwards but will be nice about it and will understand if you say no. Anything that Porrim says seems to be absolutely genuine and she seems to give good advice.

Latula, who's a R4D SK4T3R G4L and will probably not be outright mean to you or anyone nearby during your coffee hangout, which is the absolute minimum. She will skateboard there and she will show you cool tricks. She's got a great taste in music. She's a little bit loud. There's a constant cloying background feeling that she's putting on a show to make you happy.

Rufioh. It's an amicable experience above all else. He probably does not try to ask you out or say anything that's out of line with the Hays Code. He's pleasant to be around, if not the most scintillating. He's an anime guy and I have known a lot of anime guys, which is both a positive and negative in and of itself. The hangout falls flat not because of either party's horrific douchebaggery (as there is with some dancestors) but just because you'd talked about everything you wanted to talk about. If you're charming enough, he might pay for your drink.

Cronus, and him ranking this high is definitely due to personal bias. Sure he's a sleazeball. Sure he's a creep. Sure he's at least mostly genetically Space Hitler. He's genuinely rated as "the worst character in Homestuck". But hear me out, I'd fall for the greaser gambit hook line and sinker with no puns intended. I am, unfortunately, the kind of gal who this shtick works on. This platonic coffee outing could willingly turn into a non-platonic coffee date.

Mituna? Listen he's my little guy but I'm kind of worried about him. He's kind of hyper already and also not a fantastic conversationalist. Keeps making uncomfortable sex puns, but is otherwise probably cool to hang out with. He has and can ride a skateboard, although I probably wouldn't ask him to do tricks. Probably has a phenomenal taste in music, maybe even better than Latula's. Potentially positive experience.

Kurloz, who's kind of the waypoint between positive and negative experiences. There's absolutely no conversation, he orders and then does not communicate anything else. You try to talk to him and he stares at you blankly. He's probably stoned. I'm not entirely sure that he can drink coffee because, again, his mouth is stitched shut and it's probably at least a little bit disturbing to look at! It's not the best you can do but it's also not the worst you can do.

Meenah. She doesn't want to be there and will tell you so herself. Keeps trying get you to join Multi-Level Marketing schemes she just made up. You give her money now, and she'll send you the product later. Gets a call halfway through the hangout, takes it then and there and loudly. You're not sure if it would be polite or impolite to leave, especially considering she's the heiress.

Meulin, who comes in visibly stoned and won't shut up about her ships. Listen, y'all, I can't stand the 2012 'all the feels' 'otp' shipping vernacular and I'm easily either annoyed or grossed out by ships. I'm not anti ship-- to each their own-- but I oftentimes actively avoid the culture. Meulin is shipping culture and cute squeaky voices condensed into one woman who also likes to pretend she's a cat sometimes. She knocks your drink off the table if you put it too close to the edge and then she laughs at you and then she wants to talk about how much she wants all of her friends to get together. She's got charts and you're down both your coffee and the next three hours.

Damara, but listen. She ranks low but she's a great character, the implications of almost everything about her are fascinating. Just . . . not someone I'd want to take out to coffee. She's undressing you with her eyes the entire time, especially when the coffee was meant to be entirely platonic. She keeps saying hard-to-decipher things in East Beforan that you're almost certain are weird and hypersexual, but you don't know enough East Beforan yourself to catch exactly what those little comments mean. All in all a lot of my issues with Mituna are the same issues I have with Damara- ie, hypersexuality-- but Damara is Worse about it. You manage to keep a conversation going but it's deeply uncomfortable the whole time.

Horuss, mostly because he's going to be weird and sweaty and twitchy the entire time. Also he's going to be absolutely terrible at making conversation. Dead silence, you can't really make eye contact because of the goggles, you can't tell where he's looking but you can tell that he's sweating bullets and keeps twitching around. Whatever he's looking at, it's almost never you. I'm not comfortable with the energy in this coffeeshop today.

Kankri (this is NOT a Kankri apprectiation space.). Bastard man. Dosen't shut up, and most definitely DOES NOT let you get a word in edgewise. Will not stop talking about how drinking coffee is somehow innately disrespectful to anti-deforestation efforts and the fact that his iced sugar disaster came in a plastic cup is deeply offensive to like everyone ever and then-- AND THEN!! He starts talking to every. single. passerby about all of the same things. Multiple people. Multiple hour rant. Did I mention he constantly carries-- AND USES-- a pay-attention-when-I'm-speaking whistle.

[bloobluebloo]

Hello!

This might be a weird question, but since you work in IT, do you use AI tools like ChatGPT or Claude a lot, or not at all? I’ve been learning programming for a few months, and honestly, it’s super hard. I’m definitely not a genius, so I use AI a lot to help me figure out what I’m doing and generate code.

The problem is that other students kind of judge and look down on people who use these tools, and it’s making me feel bad about it. Should I stop using AI altogether? I just don’t know how to manage without help or researching all the time.

If you have any tips, they'd really help me out 🙏

Thanks for reading this!

Hey anon! Well, the thing is that the IT industry in its entirety is pushing for AI integration as a whole into their products, so industry-wise it has become sort of inevitable. That being said, because we are still early into the adoption of AI I personally don't use it as I don't have much of a need for it in my current projects. However, Github Copilot is a tool that a lot of my colleagues like to use to assist with their code, and IDEs like IntelliJ have also begun to integrate AI coding assistance into their software. Some of my colleagues do use ChatGPT to ask very obscure and intricate questions about some topics, less to do with getting a direct answer and moreso to get a general idea of what they should be looking at which will segway into my next point. So code generation. The thing is, before the advent of ChatGPT, there already existed plenty of tools that generate boilerplate templates for code. As a software engineer, you don't want to be wasting time reinventing the wheel, so we are already accustomed to using tools to generate code. Where your work actually comes in is writing the logic that is very specific to the way that your project functions. The way I see ChatGPT is that it's a bit smarter than the general libraries and APIs we already use to generate code, but it still doesn't take the entire scope of your project into consideration. The point I am getting at here is that I don't necessarily think there is a problem in generating code, whether you are using AI or anything else, but the problem is do you understand what the code is doing, why it works, and how it will affect your project? Can you take what ChatGPT gives you and actually optimize it to the specifics of your project, or do you just inject it, see that it works, and go on your merry way without another thought as to why it worked? So, I would say, as a student, I would suggest trying not to use ChatGPT to generate code, because it defeats the purpose of learning code. Software engineering as a whole is tough! It is actually the nature of the beast that, at times, you will spend hours trying to solve a specific problem, and often times the solution at the end is to add one line in one very specific place which can feel anticlimactic after so much effort. However, what you get from all those hours of debugging, researching, and asking questions is a wealth of knowledge that you can add to your toolbox, and that is what is most important as a software developer. The IT landscape is rapidly changing; you might be expected to pick up a different programming language and different framework within weeks, you might suddenly be saddled with a new project you've never seen in your life, or you might suddenly have something new like AI thrown at you where you suddenly have to take it into consideration in your current work. You can only keep up with this sort of environment if you have a good understanding of programming fundamentals. So, try not to lean too much on things like ChatGPT because it will get you through today, but it will hurt you down the line (like in tech interviews, for example).

[huntunderironskies]

I know this isn't what anyone wanted when it comes to WIPs given what I'm known for but as you might know I've been trying my hand at translating and I still don't feel like I'm good enough to share my stuff outside of friend groups but I do like showing that I massively overthink things. I think I've said a few times there's something of an expectation of literal translations in order to "preserve the spirit" of the source and that's part of the reason I'm paranoid, the other issue is that honestly my Japanese is not that good and I pretty frequently run into words I don't know which is why I work with about three different dictionaries open at any given time. Thankfully for all of its quirks, JP pronunciation is very consistent compared to every other language I've learned so as long as you can pick out each phoneme you'll know exactly what to look for.

Anyway. Here's something I've been working on and I'm hoping I can have in a presentable state before the upcoming plot arcs they're gearing up for. Lots of rambling so I'm putting it below the cut.

Context: this is the music project V-Kei Sentai Executioner. The characters in this specific drama track are a group of phantom thieves who turn into a magical superhero visual kei band and had their superpowers granted to them by a demon who they are also forced to live with because he won't leave them alone. They have to use their powers to free the world from time loop causing 1999 to repeat infinitely that's slowly undoing the fabric of reality and will eventually end the world. This only kind of makes sense in context. They have just experienced their first (as far as they're aware) iteration of the time loop.

Yes, I know, I forgot to capitalize some letters in there, I will fix it, I just keep editing other things instead--

So this is admittedly a bit of a personal flourish, but I'll try to walk through the logic of why and how I veer off of totally literal translations.

Exactly what Astaroth says here with a very literal translation is "Yo, kosodoro-domo! Akemashite omedetou da na!" (lit."Yo, thieves [mildly derogatory suffix i can't translate into english]! Happy new year!") And Kiyoshiro responds "Dare ga kosodoro?" (lit. "Who are [these] thieves?")

For further context: kosodoro is a somewhat demeaning term for a thief, by my understanding, several of the dictionaries I looked at translated it specifically as "petty thief." You're more likely to hear dorobou used, at least in all the media I've watched. However, the Asta boys consistently call themselves kaitou-dan, or a phantom thief organization, and all of them seem to take a lot of pride in that. Phantom thieves have entered the not-weeb public consciousness a lot more due to Persona 5 but if you need a refresher, phantom thieves are specifically heroic thieves who operate under a code of honor. It's a pretty different connotation.

Anyway, yeah, I could have just done a literal translation but in my own head there was a chance to try and get everyones' personalities across a little better in English. "Phantom thief" might be understood by weebs but not necessarily a general audience. Now, admittedly, the English-speaking audience that isn't a weeb for this sort of music project is probably nonexistent to the point I haven't doubled back and changed any uses of "phantom thief" in other parts of the translation (and probably won't at this point) but I still wanted to go a little bit off script to try and get my point across. I could've had Kiyoshiro correct him that they're phantom thieves and that probably could've worked but I didn't like that pass. There's a couple reasons, I didn't like the flow of it being one. I also had used the word thief/thieves a lot and the thing about English is that word choice and avoiding repetition matters a lot when you're writing.

Here's what I went with instead and my personal read on the character dynamics. Astaroth is trying to be as insulting as possible. Meanwhile Kiyoshiro isn't necessarily mad that he's being called a criminal, that's objectively true. But he's a criminal who's performing a very valuable function to society and he's also very good at doing it, thank you very much.

I feel like Asta is the one group where the red sentai member isn't the sole moral center of the group, which is also why I'd call them the most unambiguously heroic. Even if he is a utilitarian, Kiyoshiro seems to have a pretty well-thought-out philosophical outlook on art and aesthetics-- he was completely psyched to be stealing from an art hoarder because by his reckoning, depriving everyone else of the joy of looking at sublimely beautiful art is evil. He is the government-mandated kuudere of the series so the first time you get an indication of just how excited he is comes from him aggressively infodumping about the paintings they're stealing and why they should be shared with the world instead of being hidden away in a private collection but it's also the most we see him talk at one time in the entire drama track. He really, really cares about what they're doing.

I still don't know if italicizing the "useless" part is getting my vision 100% across and I might change it in pass #23523 but this feels like it gets the point of their characters across really well while still retaining the meaning of the dialogue. Spirit but not the letter, I guess.

Also the highlighted bit in Shiyuki's dialogue is one of the things I do in my drafts. There's...a lot of them, especially in his lines because it's more slang-y and I tend to leave the original JP in since they end up getting edited the most. In this case the actual line in JP is "akeohayon~" which is smashing together both "akeome" (very casual way of saying "Happy New Year" and "ohayo." I tend to put notes for basically any nonstandard

...oh, this isn't even getting into the other issue which is that the humor in their dialogue is very heavily inspired by manzai which does not track over into English well, and there are several jokes completely contingent on Momiji lying about having a Kansai accent while two of his other brothers do genuinely have one so I did the thing everyone hates and had to do a semi-phonetic Southern accent (I tried to lean in more on regionalisms, speech patterns, and slang instead of spelling it inasmuch as I could.) Yes, I know, the more recent argument is you should use a New Yorker accent instead of a Deep South one since it's culturally closer to Osaka but I'm going to have a significantly easier time writing a Southern accent since, you know, I live here and I hear it all the time.

You see why I don't talk about my process or translating at all much, since this is the kind of thing I get mired down in.

[finniestoncrane]

First of all, congrats for the 1,5k followers! I love your account! It's the main reason I'm checking Tumblr now and then and it really encouraging me to get to writing on Tumblr myself, though I'm still building up the confidence to do it 👉👈🥺

Jumping on the Vill-inn bandwagon, I'd love a blind date please!

I'm a 21 year-old ace Frenchie (afab, but I go by they/them in english) who wants to study cybersecurityI'm a big Sherlock Holmes nerd and usually I love murder mysteries and lovecraftian horror as an aestheticI want to get into witchcraft as well, for now I'm trying to learn tarot but I'd love to get more into itAlso a big videogames player, these days I do A LOT of Dead by Daylight (I'm trying to get into horror but I'm a bit of a scaredy cat) I'm a former gifted kid, so lots of people pleasing and a lack of self-confidence here, and a sprinkle of social anxiety to spice it up lol

And, once more, félicitations! You deserve it!

💜 blind date 💜 the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: oh god anon that's the nicest thing ;-; definitely share your writing with me if you feel comfortable i'd love to read it ;-; 💚

"Oh, hi. You're finally here. Welcome to the Vill-Inn. I'll show you to your table. If you could... either eat quick and get out of here or be the designated spokesperson for your table, that would be great. We're already sick of your date. Have a nice time..."

That's not really giving you a huge vote of confidence in how well this evening will go, but as you approach your date, you recognise him instantly. He doesn't need an introduction, but he offers you one anyone.

"Hello, Edward Nygma, you're welcome, by the way."

You can push aside the arrogance, The Riddler is as infamous as they come, so you can see why he might have developed an ego. he settles down quite quickly, also, which makes starting the evening a bit smoother than the introductions were.

When you actually get a chance to get a word in, you reveal your interest in cyber security.

"This isn't supposed to be a job interview... but I'm going to keep you in mind for a 'project' I have coming up."

Edward is quick to tell you he enjoys testing the limits of cyber security, or rather pushing them to it. It's like solving a puzzle. A mystery, where the solution is behind codes and passwords.

"I'm the Holmes, you could be my Watson?"

He grins wide when you laugh at his joke, mentioning your interest in Sherlock Holmes, as well as horror and the occult. These are subjects Edward isn't well-versed in, so he spends the next hour grilling you intensely, taking in as much knowledge as you can give him and thanking you profusely for giving him ever more information.

Once he's prattled on about his own love for video games off of your own admission about how much you enjoy them, he decides it's probably only polite to ask you a bit more about yourself, to get a feel for your personality, though he is desperate to talk about himself more.

When he learns how much you have in common though, he feels satiated in his desire for companionship. You're someone who might just get him. He too, struggled in childhood with his intelligence and the pressure placed on him because of it. Though, he's gone the opposite route. He prefers to disappoint people, and he's got, if he can admit it himself, possibly too much self-confidence. But he can always hope that some of that rubs off on you... if you're willing to spend more time with him, that is.

"Which of course you do! Who wouldn't?"

You can almost hear the wait staff rolling your eyes, but you're surprisingly only finding yourself falling for him more with each ridiculous statement he makes.

[pyrriax]

hai tumblr i think tomorrow i will work on. art. or web stuff..... im on a lil bit of a kick of web stuff rn so i think i might do a lil planning for the terralith (story) site !! its gonna be a . big undertaking since im gonna work on coding + art for it from scratch. but! it'll be worth it i think! it'll be fun to have something to point to and be like "yeah if you wanna see my current main project look here :3"

im still planning to work on a more personal site too for housing more of my fannish work and other non-story ocs (and maybe some more personal stuff... id love a place to collect photos of my fav things & for some other things like. maybe a little redux of the system stuff i originally had on my old site [which is still up but i might pull since most of it is broken... ive learnt my lesson about image hosting i swear] depending on what i decide is the most fun. im debating whether i go the route of having a relatively consistent appearance (like im planning to do with terralith) or if i let the pages themselves kind of dictate the appearance (more like my old site, which is a bit disjointed but its a little charming... i need to separate out a section of that site since it's actually a story / character project for wtds)

art-wise i think im probably going to see if i can hunt down a good base to actually hammer out the Designs for a lot of the characters ive been working on - they all have a general concept in my head but they dont have anything too solid. either that or i'll try and work on improving the reference for elyria.. i want to have most of the reference stuff done in time for art fight since im planning to participate for at least a week of it (although it will probably involve adjusting refs for old characters as well. some of them are super outdated and i need to add in notes for ones like tyler since ive changed how i draw him)

who knows! its like 2am im tired and hopefully the power doesnt keep going out tomorrow 🙏