#JADE software

[bakingmakingmachine]

Using JADE software to perform some analysis on the general measurement scans that were run for the samples using the X-Ray Diffraction machine

[luckycaricature]

He's also. The only one of them that has made a robot, I think. The biggest robotics idiot is still more knowledgeable about robots than people who don't build them. Presumably??

(Who made the Jade dream robot, was it Granpa Harley?? I forgor)

This means who is the BEST at technology.

Who is the most tech-illiterate? poll

[yanderedrabbles]

Why am I suddenly into older men?? Why??

Am I developing a daddy kink? I didn't know I could acquire new kinks. This isn't a software update, so why am I suddenly discovering new features to my psyche??

Anyways, here are some of the old man fucker fics I'm currently working on:

Yandere Triad Boss: Jaded and mean gangster sends his men to collect a debt and isn't quite sure what to do when they bring back a girl instead.

Yandere Drill Sergeant x Private Reader: Sadistic marine decides you need to be smoked and put in your place.

Yandere Revolutionary x Last Tsarina Reader: You're going to be executed, but one of the new leaders shows mercy. For a price.

Yandere Captain of the Guard x Princess Reader: He's noticed your little crush, and he's keen to show you exactly how far royalty can fall.

What is wrong with me!! I need to bite a man right now or I'm just going to keep writing increasingly deranged smut. Yes that is a threat someone get me a man to bite

[thewertsearch]

TT: Anyway, I kind of owe it to him to let the program run as often as possible. GG: Jake? TT: No. TT: The responder. TT: It is a fully cognitive, self-aware entity I am responsible for, not even to mention an approximate cerebral duplicate of myself. TT: You don't just make a clone of yourself to live in a dead end existence where it has no chance to thrive as an individual or surpass its limitations.

Alright - but wouldn't 'letting it run as often as possible' mean never turning it off?

I suppose it's possible that the AR's server needs to be taken down for maintenance - but that's not an issue I ever expected us to encounter with this kind of wacky sci-fi technology. It's hard to imagine a Transportalizer needing maintenance.

TT: Also. TT: The more the software runs, the broader and more detailed its experiential canopy becomes. Makes for a better dialogic partner.

Ah, so this is the real reason you're keeping him awake. I'm sure that ethics is a factor, but your primary motivation is to make your AI minion more advanced - and thus, more useful.

If I was in Bro's position, I'd be worried about the AI getting a little too advanced, and going full Skynet - but I guess he's assuming his brain clone will share his motivations. Jade made that mistake before, and it got messy.

GG: Dialogic? GG: Are you saying you have conversations with your own auto-responder? TT: Of course. TT: Why do you think I made the thing?

Because you're desperately lonely, just like all the other human Players.

Before the Act started, I was fairly optimistic about Guardian Dave's ability to raise a child - but since Guardian Rose appears to have retained some of Mom's less savory traits, I have a horrible feeling that Guardian Dave might take after Bro.

These children cannot catch a break.

[riaki]

thrifted romance | megumi fushiguro x reader

synopsis: you’ve never really spoken with megumi before, so when your friends leave the two of you behind on a snowy night, you take the opportunity to get to know him.

wc: 6.2k... SO SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY cw: swearing, college au, noncurse au, i don’t thjnk there’s anything else ??

this got way longer than i intended it to be and i rushed to grind it out so it may not be coherent.. if so i apologize :’3 and this one’s late but i hope the content makes up for it ! enjoy meemow barely proofread!

it's a late winter evening when you meet up with megumi and your friends on the side of the street— cozied up in puffy layers and a long blazer stained with coffee splashes and a few hot chocolate smudges here and there.

fall had melted away with the slow gradient of leaves from the trees, sinking into fluffy piles on the sidewalk that soon became coated and replaced with light snowfall; the first of many problematic inches. midterms were just around the corner, and with it meant late hours spent pulling all-nighters that left you exhausted, eyes dark around the edges with a lack of sleep; breaths of minty hot chocolate and coffee from the amalgamation you'd concocted to at least pretend to get into the holiday spirit.

(a fruitless effort, though— if not for your failure that warned you to stay out of mixology, but the way your roommate's cat had knocked over your mug and ruined the flashcards you'd been wrestling with and looked completely smug with itself.)

really, though, there was absolutely nothing jolly about school, or exams. so when your favorite inefficient, sidetracking study buddy had offered to spend the weekend out, who were you to say no? nobara had offered to go find a club, but it was far too cold out to frolic around in skimpy clothing and your expensive winter coats were much too valuable to risk being stolen in the haze of drunken students and sweaty bodies. so, you'd decided to go shopping, because what else is there to do with her? besides the usual karaoke session with the upperclassmen she seems to like so much, of course.

turns out, it'd had been a group endeavor. or, more accurately— a group of four, unlike the duo you had previously thought you'd be going out in. yuji and megumi were there too— friends from separate majors; you'd heard that yuji was involved in the uprising surge of software engineers and computer science majors clambering for a shot in the world of big AI tech companies, even though he supposedly was about as computer-smart as your teetering old grandma ripe with age, permanently stuck in her rocking chair crocheting the days away.

megumi, on the other hand, was a mystery. you'd shared a few classes together; his chipped dark nails that shone the same blue as his esoteric eyes beneath the warmth of the glowing sun, and his inky black hair that spilled over the collars of his simple gray sweatshirts like effortlessly graceful calligraphy on paper had captured your attention as smooth and seamless as the daylight turned to darkness, days cut short by the onslaught of cold. even so, you'd never brought yourself to interact much— he seemed like he'd prefer to keep to himself, if the way he'd disdainfully scoot away from anyone who tried to approach him and turn up the volume of his headphones indicated anything. you had laughed to your friend and called it introversion to its finest, only to promptly shut up when his unmoving gaze landed on you, leaving you feeling like a clown on the stage, rimmed by rich dark red curtains and a wooden floorboard as the beaming spotlight shines upon you imaginary button nose, hot and glaring under his gaze. 

even though you'd approved of his music taste once you snagged a few notes by the ear, you'd really thought his taste in fashion was too bland to be the type of person to shop with nobara— her meticulous style and image were much brighter and more flamboyant than megumi's jaded attempts at a splash of color through the occasional blue argyle or layered turtleneck. still, those were better than yuji's paltry attempts at fashion; at least the myriads of color on nobara's figure were coordinated. the pink-haired boy with funny scars on his face would probably have been better off learning graphic design or art, with the disasters of clashing colors on his person.

and he'd gotten the opportunity to demonstrate his questionable tastes on the chilly evening, when black ice had begun to form on the roads and the soft light of boutiques with slow jazz flowing from the speakers filled your frost-bitten red ears as you walked up to the shade of a nearby lamppost. once you'd all met up, nobara had hooked an arm around your elbow and dragged you off, leaving the boys to follow along like it was walking dogs.

honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if you were— at least, with yuji. he carried nobara's bags like she was the next princess in line, without complaint and with the little fearful quivers that dogs get in their legs whenever their owners scold them for barking or misbehaving, much like how nobara would yell at yuji if he dropped a single cream linen sweater or ruffled pink cami.

megumi, on the other hand, was far too lethargic and quiet to be considered any kind of canine. although the weaved bracelet on his left wrist with a cute little puppy charm you caught sight of when he'd rolled his sleeve up implied otherwise. the only reason he'd even had to do that was to rub the sickeningly sweet orange blossom hand sanitizer nobara had spritzed on each of your palms after you took turns petting a stray cat, one that seemed to take a great liking to you and megumi in particular.

the night seemed to drag on forever; pale yellow lights and holiday decorations blurred into swathes and bubbles of color in your vision as the hours passed and the caffeine from the cute little coffeeshop you'd stopped at earlier began to wear off.

but there had just been something magical about that evening; spending time with friends (albeit, more like acquaintances) had granted you a much-needed break from cramming your mind with an overflow of information that was sure to spill out the moment you answered the last exam question. so, when it was almost midnight and it was time to retire to your bed, you'd insisted on staying out for just a little longer while nobara and the rest returned to their dorms to catch some sleep. yuji had complained something about his legs cramping, but you were feeling giddy, and the stars were twinkling just as bright as the light in nobara's eyes were when you told her you had to soak in the fresh air for as long as you could before being locked in to study again as she laughed and headed home with her pink dog-boy escort in tow.

megumi had mumbled something about staying with you since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. you didn't think too much about it, because if you did, you were sure you'd end up with a faced even more flushed than it was frostbitten from the cold.

so, here you were, strolling down the quieter side of town, a brooding boy with inky dark hair and hands pale with blue veins shoved into the pockets of his jacket trailing behind you. he had one airpod tucked into his pierced ear; you assumed he hadn't brought his headphones because yuji would be there to prattle and babble. even so, you were content not to say anything, so there was plenty of opportunity for him to wear both. but he wasn't. you decided not to linger on it.

you'd just finished writing a silly little note out of the crisp snow gathered on the windshield of some stranger's car; the flakes were cold and biting on your skin, leaving it feeling numb with little droplets of icy water when you pulled away to admire your handiwork.

"actually, maybe i shouldn't be doing that." you decided after a moment, mumbling under your breath. it was just a little message with a whiskered smiley face, but the headlights on the car and the bumper seemed to form a frown at you when you stepped back, shaking its motorized head at your vandalism.

"you think?"

megumi's voice sounded from behind you, a little weighed down by the cold with a wisp of warmth leaving his lips like a powdery exhale, curling into the prickly night air. he was standing on the sidewalk, observing you all prickly-like as if you were some flagrant toddler he was babysitting. you still had to get used to the way his voice sounded after rarely hearing it; the few crumbs you got when your professors forced obligatory presentations onto struggling students had sent this warm, fuzzy feeling collecting in your stomach at the rich tone of velvet it held. not rough or overly deep, but smooth and reassuring. the kind you could fall asleep to; like there was a lullaby just waiting to be poured from his tongue with little scratches in the indent of his tone.

of course, you hadn't heard enough of it to make such an assumption, so when you heard the little quip framed with irritation at the edges, it wasn't all sugary sweetness like you imagined.

"yeah, well, sorry i like to live a little," you huffed, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to resuscitate some warmth back into them with a small little sigh.

"you call that living?" he scoffs a little, cocking an eyebrow at the vandalized toyota behind you. now, it just looked a little sad; imaginary eyebrows over the red lights droopy in disappointment. you followed his gaze, before looking back at him and making a sour face as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

"maybe we just have different tastes, y'know? doesn't mean we don't have to get along like this," you mumbled, shaking your hands out a little to get the remaining snow droplets off before stuffing them back in your blazer pockets. "just like itadori and nobara. one has terrible taste in fashion and the other doesn't, but they both like their bright colors." you feel satisfied with yourself for that one, but clearly, megumi doesn't feel the same. but the corner of his pink lips seem to quirk up just a tiny bit, and you feel pride blooming in your chest.

there's just something about the way it looks— an almost implausible smile coaxed onto his lips by something particularly amusing, reaching his dull blue eyes in a way that made their usual tedious apathy morph into something like fondness, or appreciation. adding a shine to his navy irises the lamp light overhead could only hope to mimic. then again, you didn't let your mind linger on it for too long like usual— so instead you chalked it up to the one other thing that had caught your eye besides the sharpness of his jaw and the handsome slimness of his face: his jacket.

you take back what you said about his style and its blandness before— it would be unfair to what he was wearing right now. just a simple black turtleneck (one that you were sure he'd worn to the early morning wednesday lecture you had a few days ago, when the sun was still bright enough to catch on the condensation of the cup of lemonade your white-haired, oddly sweet-toothed professor had), and black jeans, but the vintage racing windbreaker hanging from his shoulders brought it together in a way that was unfairly seamless; all dark blues and stripes of checker; a neutral grayblue that reminded you of the sky on rainy afternoons, trudging about the shopping districts in tokyo. there were a few brand patches here and there, some red bubble lettering of names you didn't recognize in patches of color that brought out the shade of his eyes. maybe the labels of those energy drink brands you often caught him running on when the shadows beneath his long dark lashes seemed heavier than usual.

all that to say he looked good. like, seriously good. you didn't know how you hadn't noticed all night— but now that you had, it was hard to keep your eyes from his slim and tall silhouette (not that he minded). the jacket really complimented it.

"that's a neat jacket. where'd you get it?" you asked after a moment of chilling silence; he'd probably noticed you looking, and you prayed he didn't think you were checking him out. although, if that meant getting your hands on one of those windbreakers, you wouldn't really mind. he glanced up at you, tearing his attention from the sad snowy toyota camry that seemed worn past its years at the newfound attention on megumi's racing jacket. he blinked a little, and you didn't miss the little flake of frost on his eyelash; probably caught from brushing past a windowsill earlier. by now, most shops were closed; even so, the street still felt warm and safe. well, maybe it was to be credited to a person rather than the concrete— but like you had been all night, you ignored it.

"oh, this?" as if he was wearing more than one jacket (it was cute), "i thrifted it." and for some reason, you didn't expect to be surprised, but you were. him? thrifting? the few western-fashion tailored thrift stores you'd been to with nobara had been lacking— not like you'd been able to stay in them long; the artificial ginger had this... beef with reused clothes. she liked her clothes clean and fresh from the press, even if you reminded her they could just be fresh from someone else's press. megumi must be familiar with the antiquated racks of varied worn graphic tees and frayed pants if he could fish something that classy from a thrift store.

then again, it's not like you had any experience to go off of at all.

"really? y'know, i've always wanted to go thrifting," you sighed, stretching your arms out, watching the fabric of your blazer wrinkle and curve to follow the movement of your muscles. a light dusting of snow coated the surface, like powdered sugar on tiramisu. that makes the coffee stains fitting. "but i feel like i'm bad at it." you said, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk, the rubber bottom of your sneakers brushing against a little clump of pine green weeds.

"bad at it?" megumi echoes, following you with a faint ruffle of smooth fabric, like the sound of a zipper sliding down. before, the world had been a cool shade of gray, like smoke rising from a cigarette or the blurry blue of the sky from the window of a speeding bullet train. but now, you let yourself soak in the sound of his voice, like grinded coffee beans and a smooth, soothing honey medicine for your throat on a sick day when you get to cozy up in your bunk bed and watch the clouds drift by.

it's nice.

"yeah. like, i wouldn't know where to go, or what to find, or what to look for..." you trailed off, rubbing your cold fingers together again as your breaths leave in little exhales of coagulating mist in the cold night air. now that it was late, it the temperature would only continue to drop.

you walked in silence for a little longer, listening to the scuffles of shoes against concrete, glassy with ice that had begun to creep up on the roads like a steady stream of seafoam from the tides.

"why don't we go thrifting now, then?" he asks out of the snowy blue.

you paused, and you almost smacked straight into a pole. "now?" you spluttered, turning around to face him. the look on his face was unreadable; a mix between exasperation, amusement, an attempt at stoicism, and something like affection in the corner of his lips as they curved upward. it was like a CPR compression; the smile that sent fuzzy electricity through your veins and reinvigorated your heart.

"yes, now." he said it like you were stupid, which you might just be, the way you stared dumbly at his face. "the place i got this jacket from is just over there," he said, jutting a ring-adorned thumb behind him. you had to lean up and peek around his shoulder to see it; you wouldn't've noticed if he didn't point it out. it was tucked between two buildings, a stairway downward into the store. the only thing indicating its status as a retail and thrifting store was the broken neon sign and painted red arrow that gestured towards the staircase.

"looks really shady. and it's late." you grumbled after you got over yourself, and he shot you an irritated look. that was all he really seemed to be doing tonight; that downward knit of his dark eyebrows and the slight pout weighing his lips down. not very suave, you think.

he swallows hard, and you aimlessly watch the bob of his adam's apple. "well?" he prompts, a hard edge to his voice despite the situation. you stand there for a little while, marinating in the growing cold until you cant feel the tips of your fingers.

"fine."

one accidental slip on the crosswalk and a few minutes later, you're stepping down the last wooden stair of the thrift store and into the building's basement; it's much bigger than you would've thought, with an expanse of layered clothing racks that obscure your vision, the corners of the walls clogged with cobwebs and years of dust build up. there's a faint lingering scent of cigarette smoke and cologne; something vanilla that you've caught clinging to megumi's wrists and neck on the rare occasion you brush past him. faint jazz spills from the speakers, something in a swing rhythm with the signature lilt of saxophone that makes you think you should be out enjoying a romantic fancy dinner instead of being cooped up between old wrinkly moth-bitten clothes. but you're here with megumi, so you convince yourself you don't mind either way.

"you sure this is the right place?" you asked, trying (and failing) to keep the obvious distain from your voice as you kick a folded 'floor-is-wet' sign from your path and step into the store. you can't even see the cash register from where you're standing.

"yes, i'm sure. can you stop complaining?" you can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice, and you're sure you could see it too if you just turned around. "trust me. it's not all shit." his voice softens, and you freeze up a little as he brushes past you; the corridors and margins are tight, so he has to turn sideways to fit. even so, a tag on your coat manages to snag on his jacket, and you hasten to unhook it before he can notice. he almost disappears into the racks, and you have to follow him, pushing your way through thick coats and worn graphic tees that have cracked logos and balls of lints clinging to them.

you're no thrifting expert, but you're pretty sure the store's supposed to be in better condition than this.

"hey." megumi's voice soon snaps you back into reality, and you look up from the mustard yellow top you were eyeing warily to meet his sedate gaze. "the good stuff's in the back. c'mon." he doesn't give you much room to argue even though it sounds like you're here to do drugs rather than find clothing, and before you can react he's reached forward to grab your wrist and tug you along. a yelp of protest almost spills from your lips, but you bite your tongue and let him drag you along, trying to extinguish the hue of cherry you know is making a home on the tips of your ears.

you brush past patchwork coats and a few leather belts that've tangled with the lace from the silk shirts next to them, but nothing really catches your eye, until you realize that he's let go of you only because of the lack of warmth around your skin and you focus yourself on the current again. you glance up at him, but he already has his back turned to you, sifting through a rack of black shirts that all look the exact same. maybe you have an untrained eye, though.

still, you can't help it when your gaze lingers over the back of his neck; one strand of dark hair has caught itself beneath the collar of his turtleneck, and it irks you. and you decide to do something about it because you'll know it'll bother you if you don't.

time seems to move in a liquid slow; things are blurring and there's no mothballs or ugly recycled coats to get in your way as you reach over and swipe your hand across his neck, hooking a finger beneath the strand and pulling it out of his collar. it takes you a moment to realize what you just did, and when you do, it's like there's a permanent mark seared into your index finger just from the touch of his skin against your own. you think he might have whiplash because he turns his head around so fast to catch your gaze before you can slink away, eyes wide and eyebrows knit, and you notice his bottom lip is snagged between his teeth.

he raises an eyebrow, but before he can utter a shaming word that'll only make you feel more embarrassed you shake your head vigorously, apologetically.

"sorry— it was bothering me. i hope you don't mind." you managed to say, the words spilling out in a rush before you turned away and slipped past him, disappearing into an aisle of dresses. you can feel his gaze burning cold holes into your back as you distract yourself.

you don't let yourself linger on what you just did— you seem to be doing a lot of that, lately, especially with him as you go through a few batches of clothing. by now, it's far past midnight, and you're feeling much more sluggish than you'd like to admit. you haven't seen megumi in a good twenty minutes save for the few times you picked up a few shirts and a cute diner jacket you thought would look good on him. he just thanked you bluntly, taking the bundle of clothing from your arms before walking away to the fitting rooms. you wished he'd stay to let you see the jacket.

you'd tried on a few things, discarding your blazer in favor of a cute knitted cardigan you grabbed, but nothing seemed to stick the way you'd like them to. it would be a great help if you had nobara to assist, but you were sure she was snoring away at home right now, and at the thought of your warm, inviting bed, your knees wobbled a little and you balanced yourself on the wall.

"hey— oh, you alright?" it's an unfamiliar voice; you lift your head up, looking for the source. it's a young boy— he looks to be about your age, maybe a little younger. there's a blue lanyard around his neck, and he's got a spattering of freckles on his hands, which are curled around the collar of a white linen shirt. he must be the one who's tending to the store.

"yeah, i'm okay. sorry," you said hastily, pushing away and rubbing the back of your neck. how embarrassing— he didn't seem to mind, though. he just smiled, big and bright and toothy. cute. reminded you of how toddlers would grin up at parents with those huge red lollipops in hand.

"no worries. i just thought i'd let you know that we're closing soon, since it's almost 2am." he said, shifting his weight on his sneakers. you nodded, about to give a hum of confirmation before another voice cuts through the slow jazz filling the stifling air above, all familiar in its smoothness.

before you could respond, though— "[name]?" megumi's voice rang out in the quaint little store, calling for you, and so you give the employee an apologetic nod before you turn and start toward the noise. you pass a mirror with a coat draped over the top, peeking your head around a tall rack of long skirts to catch sight of the raven head, in all of his glory. you notice that he's taken off his windbreaker.

"what’s up? we have to go soon," you reminded him, yawning a little and rubbing your eyes as you straightened up and stepped over to his side. there was another mirror in front of him, you noticed, with fading stickers pale in the dim yellow light stuck to the wooden rim. even so, with the smudges and the bare sheen of the silver, he looked good. that black turtleneck really suits him.

"i know. i just wanted to ask for your opinion." he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. you tilted your head curiously, and he held up a deep mauve sweatshirt, with some varsity logo branded on the fabric. it had a nice touch to it; a warm color that reminded you of red wine and slow evenings. you were sure it had been one of the pieces you'd picked out for him, but you were too sleepy to recall. "you should try it on. i think it'd look good," you said, gesturing toward the mirror.

you think you must've said something wrong, because he looks at you for a moment too long before he seems to catch himself staring and he nods, a choked little sound leaving his throat which he hides by ducking his head down and covering his face with his long bangs. you think you're hallucinating the pink on his cheeks.

after a moment, he glances at you. "hold this," he shoves his jacket towards you, and you have no choice but to take it. doesn't seem like he's used to taking no for an answer, but you're certainly not the one complaining when he tugs the sweater over his head, ruffling his soft black hair as he steps a little closer to you, observing himself in the mirror while straightening out the folds and fixing his turtleneck. you were right— it does look good on him. almost unfairly so— you don't know how he manages to rock granny clothes so well, like he was born a retirement home's runway model.

unlike him, you're not a reticent shut in— and although you'd like to say you have no problem telling him how good he looks, it's still a little difficult when the words feel like they're lodged in your throat in order to prevent you from making a fool of yourself again. but you ignore it and push on.

"you look great. i think it really suits you," you breathed, shaking your head as your hands tighten around his jacket in your arms. he blinks, adjusting the collar before glancing down at you. you take a moment to really appreciate the sight— him, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the chipped lights overhead. despite the dilapidated store and the antiquated, worn clothing surrounding him, he still manages to look like some ethereal angel boy you'd stumble upon in a bookstore on a dreary winter's afternoon and never be able to get out of your mind again.

ink black eyelashes flutter when he blinks, framing his eyes like the bangs falling over his face when he turns around again to observe himself in the mirror once more before he takes the sweatshirt off. it catches on his turtleneck, which rides up when he slips the mauve sweater over his head, tussling his hair and exposing the dip of his pale hips, all muscle and flesh and bone, and you pray he chalks up the red on your face to the cold. the end of his belt dangles from the buckle as you hand his jacket back to him, fingers almost brushing— just barely out of reach.

a meager conversation flows between the two of you; you follow him through the endless maze of used clothing until you somehow stumble upon the cash register and he buys his sweater; the only thing he manages to buy after all this time spent milling about in a dusty, dinky little retail store. the boy from earlier helps check him out, and the icy glare he receives from megumi when he glances at you seems to fly straight past your head as you pick at your cuticles. the tips of your fingers are still red from messing with the frosty snow earlier. you wonder when the car owner will find your message.

it's almost freezing when you get out of the dusty shop, emerging from the smoke-stained alleyway stairs and into the cold night air. your breaths almost seem to form a precipitate, and the thought reminds you of the chemistry conversions waiting for you on your desk beneath the lamp, and you cringe internally. staying out for a few hours longer seems way better than succumbing to the never ending stream of worksheets and documents calling your name. you wonder if your charismatic professor will let you get away with a few assignments if you call in sick. are papercuts excuse enough?

the click of a lock behind you signifies the store's closing— the employee left through a back exit, it seems. and you realize too late that you left your blazer in the dressing room when you turn around and a sigh falls from your lips. megumi, paper bag in hand, glances over at you.

"you okay?"

you almost forgot he was there, in his brooding vintage racing jacket glory. you shake your head, before sighing forlornly again. he notices this, making a little face; his lips press together and his pretty eyes narrow. he thinks you sigh far too much. you'd look prettier if you smiled some more. he likes it when you do.

"i left my blazer in there, but he just closed it and it's so fucking cold out," you whined, bringing your hands to your face and rubbing your eyes tiredly. you're cold and your fingers are going numb again, and there's light snowfall. so much for not losing your coat at a club. you can't tell which one's worse. "sorry to complain so much, but do you mind if we—"

you're promptly cut off; the words on your tongue left unsaid, burning with the taste of bitter black coffee. your gaze trails from megumi's hand, the clink of his silver ring against the zipper rail of his jacket as his fingers curl around the fabric, up his arm to the sleeves of his dark turtleneck, rounding the curve of his shoulders and up his neck to his face. he's not looking at you.

the words that leave his wet lips are so small and hurried that you think you're hallucinating them; when you inevitably looked back at this moment later, you'd realize that he was being shy. he mumbles something under his sweet breath, and you ask him to speak up.

"i said, you can use mine." he repeats, louder than necessary as he finally brings himself to look down at you from under his lashes, biting the inside of his cheek. his voice is a little strained, and a soft breeze carrying the smell of cinnamon and fresh ice rustles his hair. you blinked, feeling like a deer caught in headlights over a layer of thin ice, ready to shatter at a moment's notice.

"oh— okay. um, do you have anywhere else you need to go..?" you said tentatively, reaching forward to take his jacket again. it was exactly like how you'd done back in the thrift store, but the vague sense of deja vu you get is accompanied by an endless fluttering of warmth in your stomach that melts away the winters and tiring exams, and the night seems to become a soft warm orange, as if someone's drained the cool hues from the landscape.

megumi just shook his head, reaching into his bag and taking out the sweater he'd bought earlier. he slips it on again, adjusting it over his shoulders and refusing to meet your eyes as he crumples the paper bag in his hands. you notice they're slightly trembling as he does it, fingers digging into the material with much more force than is really needed. his hair follows each movement of his head; the strain of the muscles in his neck when he swallows again and gestures for you to follow him back down the empty street, past cars coated in melting snow and jaunty yellow lights twinkling over the awnings of closed store windows, shut down for the night. the sweater suits him really well, you think; not too loose, but tight enough in the right places to send your heart racing a mile a minute.

you pull his jacket over your arms, tucking your sleeves in and zipping it up. it's big on you— that's no surprise, and you can almost taste the vanilla on your tongue, his cologne lingering on every fold of the insulated fabric. it's warm, and it feels like being enveloped in a tight hug. in megumi's head, he hopes— prays its him you think of if you ever feel that way again.

you walk in a stiff silence; both of you want to say something, but you're dancing around it, letting your words linger unsaid until the other breaks the ice first. it's only ever cracked once you reach the dorms, where you part ways. there's light snowfall, and a thin layer of white has coated his hair when you turn to face him. you reach forward, learning onto the tips of your toes to brush off the ice. his hair feels unimaginably soft beneath your fingers, slightly damp from the snow. but he's the furthest from cold when you pull away; his face is burning up.

by now, you can't bring yourself to mind.

"thank you," you said softly, sighing contentedly. you move to take his jacket off your shoulders and return it, but he stops you, holding a hand up. the expression on his face is unreadable, but his lips are pursed together in a way that makes you think he's pouting.

"don't worry—" a pause. " you can, uh. keep it. i know you wanted one. just... give it back when you want, yeah?" he says, curt. almost prude, if it weren't for the way he was avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment. it was like trying to play the world's most difficult game of whack-a'mole, attempting to catch his eyes and see the iceberg that's melted into pools of warm glittering affection in his blue irises. at the thought, you wonder if he likes arcades, and you make a mental note to suggest an activity to nobara the next time she has the urge for an escapade.

you don't bother asking him whether he's sure, because you don't want him to take his words back. so you linger there in a moment of silence, letting it hang over your heads like a warm throw blanket, cozied in front of a fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. maybe a coffee mix like you'd attempted before.

angel boy clears his throat first to speak, all honey that links the syllables together like christmas ribbon; rich like orange flavored dark chocolate. "i'll see you later, then." it's short and sweet, but your heart is already flying so high on euphoria you can barely bring yourself to care, or suppress the giddy grin that's spreading across your lips.

yeah, you're tired. yeah, you're still a little cold and you think you need to thaw at your desk for a week until exams, but at least you've got his jacket to accompany you when your study buddy passes out first and you're alone on all nighters. frankly, you can't bring yourself to care— your head is spinning with the events of the chilly night, from crude messages in the snow to thrift store mothballs and lanyards, to one checkered racing jacket. but you don’t think it’s so bad when it threatens to stick to your memory, like chewed up gum under your professor’s desk. whether it’s from the students or the professor, that’s a mystery you’ll never solve.

"yeah. see you around, fushiguro." you can’t say the same about the mystery that megumi is, though. in fact, you think you’re already one step closer when you turn around and part ways, catching sight of him in the reflection of a frosted window. he’s slipping both of his airpods back into his ears, crimson at the tips.

the sound of your shoes against the rug stairway fills your ears as you clamber back up to your dorm, eyelids heavy with drowsiness and face flushed a pleasant warmth. even when you finally get to bed, you can't stop your eyes from drifting over to the bundle of lapis blue fabric sitting on your desk, and your mind from the soft spoken boy with eyes like the night sky and inky hair like calligraphy.

you decide you don't think his style is too bad, after all. and when you tell him that the next morning when he's still sleepy and his lashes fall slow when he blinks the weariness from his eyes, you get to enjoy the steady flush that stains his cheeks and prompts a hoarse cough from his throat when he ducks his head away and grumbles something under his breath, probably about being offended you even thought he was boring in the first place.

and if you ever ask, the only reason he lent you his windbreaker that night was to replace the scent of mothballs and dust with your sweet-smelling perfume.

so, as it turns out, you're able to get your hands on one of those pretty vintage racing jackets— except, it wasn't a new one; it was his. nobara hasn't stopped pestering you with questions since you showed up to class the next day; the only thing you hear for the next week is how much she regrets leaving early.

apparently, it's all yuji's fault.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[lowkeyyashell]

imagine you are a rich software developer who just sold his company and you get into a car accident with your best friend while high af. some people save you and bring you into their town and they tell you that basically the place is cursed and you can't ever leave oh and there are HUMANOID CREATURES OUT TO GET YOU AT NIGHT. but you don't take it seriously and instead fully believe THIS IS ALL A GRAND ESCAPE ROOM GAME your friend arranged for you and you wonder around town searching for clues & quests to solve until people get tired of your shit. oh and your best friend is dead. happened to my good friend jade herrera

[garadinervi]

Radical Software: Women, Art & Computing 1960-1991, Mudam Luxembourg – Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean / Kunsthalle Wien / Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther und Franz König, 2024

Artists: Rebecca Allen, Elena Asins, Colette Stuebe Bangert & Charles Jeffries Bangert, Gretchen Bender, Gudrun Bielz & Ruth Schnell, Dara Birnbaum, Inge Borchardt, Barbara Buckner, Doris Chase, Analívia Cordeiro, Betty Danon, Hanne Darboven, Bia Davou, Agnes Denes, VALIE EXPORT, Anna Bella Geiger, Isa Genzken, Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Lily Greenham, Samia Halaby, Barbara Hammer, Lynn Hershman Leeson, Grace C. Hertlein, Channa Horwitz, Irma Hünerfauth, Charlotte Johannesson, Alison Knowles, Beryl Korot, Katalin Ladik, Ruth Leavitt, Liliane Lijn, Vera Molnár, Monique Nahas & Hervé Huitric, Katherine Nash, Sonya Rapoport, Deborah Remington, Sylvia Roubaud, Miriam Schapiro, Lillian Schwartz, Sonia Sheridan, Nina Sobell, Barbara T. Smith, Tamiko Thiel, Rosemarie Trockel, Joan Truckenbrod, Anne-Mie Van Kerckhoven, Ulla Wiggen

Contributors: Laura Amann, Sarah Beaumont, Michelle Cotton, Rhea Dall, Ramona Heinlein, Hannah Marynissen, Astrid Peterle, Carlotta Pierleoni, Andrea Popelka, Clémentine Proby, Tina Rivers Ryan, Margit Rosen, Jade Saber, Bettina Steinbrügge

Graphic Design: A Practice For Everyday Life

Exhibitions: Mudam Luxembourg – Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean, September 20, 2024 – February 2, 2025; Kunsthalle Wien, Wien, February 28 – May 25, 2025

Curators: Michelle Cotton, assisted by Sarah Beaumont

[b1rds3ye]

Hellooo‼️‼️I just stumbled in your blog and I saw the LED mask request thing and I suddenly have brainrot😭😭 it's such a idea idfk i just love it‼️‼️

ANYWAY🤯 reader comes back from a mission, solo or not! Is up to you :] and then they just have a bullet stuck in their mask. Just straight up a bullet stuck, very big cracks on their mask. It can still kind of work, only one side so when they see them reader simply waves while the other half of their LED mask just shows: ':D' as if there wasn't a bullet in their mask.

That's all! I hope you are having a good day, afternoon, or night‼️‼️make sure to stay hydrated because I'm a walking desert☺

THATS SUCH A BITTERSWEET IMAGE THOUGH, I LOVE YOUR BRAIN ANON!!

A part of the operation had to be done solo by you - it needed your specialised skill set and it was too risky sending others with you because stealth was crucial. You succeeded in distracting the enemy. That transmission was half an hour ago.

The 141 never leave their own behind, the extraction point is far enough from enemy territory that they can spare some time to wait for you. Price and Ghost are going through extra logistics, Soap is distracting himself by disassembling and reassembling gear and Gaz is just... watching. Watching for a sign that you are there. And soon enough, amongst the fog of dust kicked up by fallen buildings and bodies, is the silhouette of you. The faint LEDs emanate a light that refract off the dust, creating a halo-like glow where your head should be.

As you approach closer, it is silent. There are no light-hearted quips from you, just the audible crunch of your combat boots against the dry earth. If it weren't for your unmistakable stature and gait, the rest of the 141 would have thought it was an imposter who had stolen your mask.

Johnny only utters a quiet "Jesus..." as the details of your mask come into view. A bullet was now embedded in your mask where the side of your temple would be, a chilling reminder of the clutches of death you narrowly escaped from for now. It shone maliciously against your darkened mask that could only let out the occasional spark and whir of short circuiting.

Every few seconds, there would be a flicker of the LEDs working. It was hard to distinguish with the cracks that splayed across the mask like a web, all stemming from the bullet that had made itself at home millimeters away from your head. An eye was missing, that section of your mask completely disconnected from the software. Broken circuitry had the odd pixel flickering in a false positive in various colours before dying.

But despite the stakes, your mask was smiling.

"You broken?" Gaz asked tentatively.

You pause in comtemplation, perhaps the voice amplifier in your mask was fried or you're just too tired to speak - none of the 141 would blame you for either. Instead, you offer a thumbs up before trudging over to Ghost, his eyes trained on you. You rest your forehead against his shoulder and he responds with a slight grunt, but he surrenders to your tired antics. Tilting your head to the rest of the 141, your broken mask flits to a "z_z".

There's a pat on your back from John, both to comfort and to also make sure you don't fall asleep. His hand settles on your shoulder, strong and ready to haul you to the helicopter.

"Good to have you back, Sergeant. Let's get you - and your mask - patched up."

With some encouragement from Johnny and Kyle, you're coaxed to extraction. As you sit on the ride back on base, you bring a hand to probe the damage of the bullet. The metal is colder than death, so smooth it slipped from your grip like your own life had you conducted in the mission any differently. It seems the rest of the 141 knew exactly what you were thinking as your fingers traced every crack of your visor.

But before they can question you, you retract your hand and sit up straight. You're here and you're alive. Granted a little cracked, your soul a little more jaded than in the few hours prior, but for now the legend of the mask lives on.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[yuurei20]

hi! i saw someone say that medicine works differently on different species [like a medicine for fae wouldnt work on a human] and im wondering if there are any sources for that?

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

This sounds like maybe a combination of information from Riddle and Idia! :>

In Book 6 Riddle explains that he is being careful to protect Azul because "those who take (transformation potions) undergo major physiological changes. So treating injuries of such individuals requires more care. It's actually illegal to practice medicine on them without a specialist license."

But he doesn't say that medicine would work differently on Azul because he is of a different species, just that he would need to be treated by a specialist, because of the transformation potion 🧐

In theory would this mean that Riddle, too, could not be treated by anyone but a specialist if he were under the effects of a potion that transformed him into a slightly different-shaped human (for example), even if both his base-form and transformed-state would be human? Maybe!

He does not seem to be commenting on medicine working differently on different species, just reflecting on transformation potions in general, so this might not be very relevant to the question 💦

However, we see this very point come up during Harveston when Epel uses a medicinal herb on Jade!

Epel asks, "You're a merman, right? Is it safe for you to use the same herbs we do?" and Jade responds, "Yes, perfectly safe."

This is Jade, however, so we do not really know how far his assurance can be trusted: does he mean that the same medicinal herbs etc. that humans use can also be used on mermaids to the same effect?

Or does he possibly mean that human medicine won't harm him, but also won't actually do anything and was just trying to encourage Epel? (as Epel unknowingly breaks the law explicitly described by Riddle in Book 6).

On the subject of the fae characters, I think the closest thing we have for reference is Idia's comments on River Lethe: "Lethe works differently on fae. Make sure you adjust accordingly."

What exactly River Lethe is and how it works still seems a little vague, but it seems to involve hardware, software and a configuration program, possibly making it more computer-based than it is medicinal.

And that is all the information that I have been able to find! :>

To the original question: I personally have not come across any source for "medicine works different on different species in Twisted Wonderland," but will be happy to update if something arises!

[kiame-sama]

My computer died recently in the middle of working on the next TWST Monster AU drawing. Lost all progress on the drawing, but thankfully the writing is backed up on my phone. Since I did recently leave my job- due to being mistreated by said job- it may be a hot minute until I can do more Monster AU work until I get another computer (and I unfortunately game on this computer, meaning I won't settle for a computer that can't run my games so the next PC I get will be strong enough to run my games and cost me half my soul) or I get my ancient 10+ year old laptop to run my drawing software without making me want to throw it. Unfortunately, my garbage bin brain has a tendency to throw a fit and quit when I lose progress on something, so it may be a while until I feel like drawing those characters again (it was of Floyd and Jade) but I will still try to work on the Monster AU in the interim.

Note: I wanted to only use Monster AU art on my chapters, but I am happy to take fan-art (giving appropriate credit, of course) and use those for the pictures (since I recognize notifications based on the picture/art used) to post more chapters if anyone feels like tossing a few my way.

[sleekervae]

if it matters, you complete me

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin x Jade (OC) (standalone)

Summary: After a long day and night of filming, Austin comes home in the early hours of the morning to find Jade deep in the throes of work.

Warnings: fluff, super duper major fluff

Word Count: 2,473

A/N: since seeing those "Caught Stealing" pics all over my feed, this idea's been rattling around in my brain. Enjoy!

Austin sighed as he pushed open the door, the quiet click echoing through their apartment. The familiar smell of vanilla and nutmeg greeted him, and he couldn't help but smile. Even after a long day on set, the thought of coming home to Jade always made him feel better.

As he made his way through the hallway, the dim glow of the living room caught his eye. He knew without even looking that Jade would be there, lost in her world of music. She was always more of a night owl, her creativity coming alive when the rest of the world was asleep.

And there she was, sitting cross-legged on the couch, her long hair cascading down her back with her laptop on her legs and earphones on her head. She had been just as busy as he was, but while his schedule forced him out into the chilly fall of New York, Jade’s work sequestered her to their apartment.

Austin smiled to himself, leaning against the doorframe for a moment to just watch her. Despite how exhausted he was, the sight of her—completely lost in her element—warmed something in his chest. There was something peaceful about it, about her.

He tiptoed closer, sliding off his shoes, and quietly plucked the headphones from her ears. Jade jumped slightly, her eyes widening before they softened when she saw him. She grinned, and even though she was the one who had been working all night, she somehow looked more refreshed than he felt.

“Hey, stranger,” she teased, her voice warm and soft in the late-night quiet. "You’re up late."

He chuckled, dropping onto the couch beside her. “So are you,” he said, his hand gently brushing a stray curl from her face, “What are you working on?”

“Psycho babble,” she replied with a smirk, her eyes twinkling mischievously. She had her mixing software up and running, the audio spikes zig-zagging 

across the screen like musical notes frozen in time. Austin watched in awe as she expertly navigated through the program, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with practiced precision.

“Is that the name of your next album?” he asked.

“Never say never,” she shrugged back.

“I thought you were supposed to be on a ‘break’,” he pointed out.

He had a point. Jade had spent the last few years putting together her last album, having it chart, marketing it and then touring across the globe. She was an absolute rockstar, but even she was a human being with limits. As soon as award season was over she swore she would take a break — giving her more of an excuse to travel with Austin. But alas, she was an artist. 

“Idle hands do the devil’s work, darling,” she replied smartly, “Besides, I’m here aaaalll alone in New York, all my friends are asleep, and you’re working so I can’t bother you,” he knew from the lilt in her voice that Jade was only joking, but Austin couldn’t help the little sting of guilt rippling up his spine. Every time they were in New York together it was always so magical, but this time he was working late.

He leaned in to press a soft kiss against her temple, his lips lingering against her skin. The scent of her shampoo mixed with a hint of tea was intoxicating, and for a moment, he forgot about the long day he had just endured. Jade leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the closeness between them.

“I promise we'll have our New York adventure soon,” Austin murmured, the words a vow against her skin. “I'll make it up to you.”

Jade turned to look at him then, her gaze searching his face with a mix of fondness and amusement. “You always do,” she said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. “But right now, how about a midnight snack to keep us going?”

Austin chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Midnight? It’s 4am.” he teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully before hopping off the couch, her hand reaching out for his. “Details, details. Come on, let’s raid the fridge! You should never go to bed on an empty stomach!”

Together, hand in hand, they made their way to the kitchen. The soft glow of the refrigerator light illuminated Jade's face, casting a warm halo around her. Austin couldn't help but admire her in that moment, the way she moved with such grace and purpose even in the dead of night. But then, that’s what she always did. For as long as he could remember, she was a nocturnal creature.

As they rummaged through the shelves, pulling out random snacks and leftovers, a comfortable silence settled between them. It was moments like these that Jade cherished the most—simple, mundane tasks made special by her favorite person.

With their impromptu feast gathered on the countertop, Jade hopped up to sit on its edge, swinging her legs as she surveyed their bounty. Austin leaned against the counter opposite her, a smile playing on his lips as he watched her.

“Ah-ha!” Jade exclaimed triumphantly, holding up a half-empty carton of oreos, “Did I ever tell you about my oreos hack?”

Austin's eyes widened in playful anticipation, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew Jade had a knack for turning ordinary moments into remarkable experiences, and her "oreos hack" was no exception. 

“No, but I’m all ears,” he replied, leaning in with exaggerated interest.

Jade chuckled at his enthusiasm before leaning closer to whisper her secret. “Okay, so you take two Oreo cookies, right? Twist them apart carefully...” Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she demonstrated, her fingers deftly separating the chocolate cookies from the creamy filling. 

Austin watched, completely entranced by her animated explanation. It didn’t matter that it was past 4 am or that they both had early mornings ahead of them; in that moment, time seemed to stand still as they shared this simple joy together.

“Once you have them separated,” Jade continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “you grab a spoonful of peanut butter and spread it on one side of the cookie. Then, you put them back together and dunk the whole thing in a glass of milk… or coffee. It’s better with black coffee and the bitterness cuts the sweet,”

Austin couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, charmed by the way she could turn a late-night snack into an adventure. He reached for an Oreo from the package, following her instructions meticulously as she watched with a grin.

“If we have coffee now, we’ll never get to sleep. Milk will have to do,” he joked, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with milk. Jade beamed at him, her eyes sparkling with delight as she watched him assemble his own Oreo creation.

As they both took a bite of their makeshift dessert, a moment of contentment washed over them. The combination of sweet chocolate, creamy peanut butter, and cold milk was surprisingly satisfying, each flavor melding together perfectly on their taste buds. Austin couldn’t help but marvel at how Jade had a way of turning the simplest things into something just a little more fun.

They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying their late-night snack together. The apartment was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of their glasses against the countertop.

Austin chewed thoughtfully, the sweetness of the Oreo and the peanut butter mixing in a surprisingly pleasant way. He chuckled as he glanced at Jade, who was already halfway through her second cookie, her eyes bright and mischievous. Despite how tired he felt, moments like this made everything else fade into the background.

Jade wiped a crumb from her lip, leaning back against the counter. “So, Caught Stealing,” she began, her tone casual, but her gaze soft with concern. “How’s it going? You guys make any progress tonight?”

Austin’s smile faltered for a split second, but he quickly recovered, pushing the exhaustion to the back of his mind. “Yeah, it’s coming along,” he said, trying to keep his voice upbeat for her. “We shot this big chase scene tonight. A lot of running, a lot of retakes. You know how it is—hours of running for what’ll probably be a three-minute scene.” He laughed, though it came out a little hollow.

Jade nodded, though her eyes lingered on him longer than usual. She could always tell when he was holding back, even when he tried his best to hide it. “Sounds intense,” she said softly. “You must be beat.”

“I’m fine,” Austin insisted, but his attempt at brushing it off was undermined by the way he leaned heavily against the counter, his shoulders slumping just a little. He glanced over at her, catching her raised brow. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe a little. But it’s nothing new. You know how these things go.”

Jade stepped closer, her fingers lightly tracing the back of his hand. “I do,” she murmured. “But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend like it’s no big deal. You’ve been going nonstop lately.”

Austin looked down at her, the tiredness catching up to him all at once. He couldn’t help but smile at her concern, at how she always seemed to know what he needed before he did. “I just didn’t want to drag you down,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “You’ve got your own thing going on. I figured we’d both just… power through.”

Jade glanced at the time on her phone, now reading 4:17am. She shook her head, smiling gently. “I think power-hour has long passed.” she said. “You should go to bed.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged back, “I probably should,” as the words left her lips, a yawn took her over.

A warmth spread through Austin’s chest as he looked at her, perched on the counter, the soft light casting shadows over her features. Without thinking, he stepped closer, sliding between her legs as she leaned back slightly to make room for him. His hands found her waist, holding her gently but securely, and he felt the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.

“Let’s go to bed,” he urged her gently, “And if we time it right, we might even get to wake up together,” no hectic mornings, no looming deadline shoots; only a peaceful and intimate moment for the two of them to share and enjoy together.

Jade looked up at him, her lips quirking into a soft smile, the kind that made his heart skip. Her legs wrapped loosely around his hips as she rested her hands on his chest, tracing absent patterns. “Deal,” she whispered, her gaze never leaving his, “Let’s go to bed,”

Austin scooped Jade up effortlessly, relishing the feeling of her warm body pressed against his as he carried her towards the bedroom. Her laughter tinkled in the air, the sound like music to his ears. They entered the room, dimly lit by a soft glow from the bedside lamp, casting a warm ambiance over the space.

Gently laying Jade down on the plush covers, Austin lowered Jade onto the plush covers, her body sinking into the soft bedding. He gazed down at her with intense eyes, overflowing with unspoken declarations of love and adoration. Leaning in, he tenderly pressed his lips against hers in a lingering, gentle kiss. Jade's hands found their way to his cheek, her touch soft and reassuring. In that moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble of intimacy and affection.

As they broke apart, Jade's eyes fluttered open, gazing up at him with a mix of adoration and desire. She reached up to cup his cheek, her touch sending shivers down his spine. 

"Wait," she said, her eyes flickering with amusement. "The snacks."

Austin blinked, momentarily confused before he remembered the plate of untouched snacks left out in the kitchen. He hesitated, torn between his desire for rest and knowing they should tidy up.

Jade let out a soft chuckle at his internal struggle and shook her head. "It's fine, we can get it in the morning.” she assured.

He wasn’t going to argue with that, not when sleep was tugging at his limbs and his eyes. 

Austin gave a small laugh, the kind that came from sheer exhaustion. “You sure? I can—” 

Jade cut him off with a playful nudge, her hands gently pushing him toward the bedroom. “It’s fine, we’ll deal with it tomorrow,” she insisted, her tone firm but light. 

He didn’t argue, the thought of their bed far more enticing than anything else at the moment. They padded quietly through the bedroom, Austin tugging off his old clothes and tossing them onto the chair in the corner, replacing them with comfortable sweats. Jade, meanwhile, grabbed one of his old T-shirts from the dresser and slipped it on, the hem falling loosely over her thighs. 

Austin smiled as he caught sight of her in his shirt, the familiar comfort of the scene filling his chest with warmth. It was always like this—simple, easy, natural. No matter how hectic their days were, they always had these moments, where it was just the two of them, cocooned in their own little world. 

“C’mere,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion as he climbed into bed, holding the blanket up for her. Jade smiled and slid in beside him, immediately curling into his side, her head resting on his chest. 

They lay there in the quiet, the soft sound of their breathing filling the room as they settled into the warmth of each other. Austin’s arm wrapped around her waist, his hand absentmindedly tracing small circles on her back. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was peaceful, the weight of the day slowly slipping away. Jade’s fingers played lightly with the fabric of his shirt, and Austin closed his eyes, already half-drifting into sleep. 

“Today was rough, huh?” Jade asked softly, breaking the silence but keeping her voice gentle. 

“Mmm,” Austin murmured, too tired to form a full sentence. But he didn’t need to. Jade understood. 

She lifted her head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw before settling back down, her head tucked perfectly under his chin. “I’m glad you’re home,” she whispered. 

Austin smiled, his heart swelling as he tightened his hold on her. “Me too,” he whispered back, his voice thick with sleep. 

They drifted off like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside their bedroom fading into nothing. Tomorrow, there’d be work, messes to clean, and more long nights—but tonight, they had this. Just them, together, in the quiet warmth of their bed.

[fiendy]

Hahahaja jaderoxy. Portal girls. Dave would make so many uncomfortable jokes. Rose would be jealous of the attention roxy gives jade. It would be a shitshow. Once again i repeat homestuck ships are so fucked.

At least jade and roxy would have some fun together i imagine. They could relate over their experiences with carapaces and loneliness. Roxy could build the software for jades hardware inventions. Classpecters probably have a raging hard-on for a space/void relationship. Awesome.

[rongrii]

Bit Buster the Bunny — anti-cheat system that was placed in arcades of Fredbear’s Family Diner restaurants to prevent kids from winning in an unfair way.

Description

Bit Buster is a software that was installed in all Freddy’s arcades in 70s-80s time periods. He appears as a character sprite on a screen in circumstances when software detects cheat, though, it doesn’t seem to work properly every time.

Bit Buster is an anthropomorphic bunny with blue fur and jade eyes, wearing an overalls that go over his yellow shirt that has ornament similar to floor in arcades section. Metallic starts appear on overalls and it's pink bow tie. Buster's voice is high pitched and was initially supposed to sound friendly, but it turned out to be more passively aggressive, same as his phrases than it uses to communicate with player.

How does he work?

He will look directly at the player the whole time and give detentions before coming to action. Programm will purposely stop the game and reset your progress, if it detects several cheats.

Sometimes, program will work only after player wins. When arcade machine starts to give out tickets, programm will stop and reverse the action, pulling tickets back inside. This led to several incidents where kids, trying to get their tickets back, injured their hands and fingers.

Covering up the injury incidents

Many people criticised Bit Buster anti-cheat software for not only being not safe for kids, but having an unsettling feeling around it. Fazbear Entertainment, after all the critics and incidents unistalled finally the programm, and there was Bit Buster no longer. After opening of the second Freddy’s location Bit Buster design was used as a reference for a new character - Toy Bonnie, though, Fazbear Entertainment never mentions their software again.

Overall idea behind him is combining something cute, made for children, but as the same time be unsettling and hide horrors behind, I think that’s perfectly fits FNAF mood!

Additional sketches:

[zin3b0]

DIAL-UP! AU LORE DROP

Hi guys!! While I work on the comic I wanted to drop some lore about the au so enjoy the read! <3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Kinito instead of his simple white version of "Your World", created a colorful world filled with arcade games, and he's now committed to making the User stay with him by managing this arcade creating new ones to keep their interest.

Kinito being the creator and manager of the arcade, is always trying to make new games for the User. But there’s one he always keeps covered and never lets the User use.

Kinito has been experimenting with a new software that has the possibility for mind control, similar to methods used in M.K Ultra (a whole U.S government experiment to figure out mind control [this is a real thing💀])

So while he creates this “game” he studies the user constantly and will experiment on Sam, Jade, and Ceto to see if his mind control experiment is working.

He’ll sometimes even taint the food to see if it has any effect. Of course the User has no knowledge of what he’s doing.

Kinito’s actual attempts to see if it has an effect on the user have not been successful so he tries not to do it often.

[garadinervi]

Radical Software: Women, Art & Computing 1960-1991, Mudam Luxembourg – Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean / Kunsthalle Wien / Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther und Franz König, 2024

Artists: Rebecca Allen, Elena Asins, Colette Stuebe Bangert & Charles Jeffries Bangert, Gretchen Bender, Gudrun Bielz & Ruth Schnell, Dara Birnbaum, Inge Borchardt, Barbara Buckner, Doris Chase, Analívia Cordeiro, Betty Danon, Hanne Darboven, Bia Davou, Agnes Denes, VALIE EXPORT, Anna Bella Geiger, Isa Genzken, Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Lily Greenham, Samia Halaby, Barbara Hammer, Lynn Hershman Leeson, Grace C. Hertlein, Channa Horwitz, Irma Hünerfauth, Charlotte Johannesson, Alison Knowles, Beryl Korot, Katalin Ladik, Ruth Leavitt, Liliane Lijn, Vera Molnár, Monique Nahas & Hervé Huitric, Katherine Nash, Sonya Rapoport, Deborah Remington, Sylvia Roubaud, Miriam Schapiro, Lillian Schwartz, Sonia Sheridan, Nina Sobell, Barbara T. Smith, Tamiko Thiel, Rosemarie Trockel, Joan Truckenbrod, Anne-Mie Van Kerckhoven, Ulla Wiggen

Contributors: Laura Amann, Sarah Beaumont, Michelle Cotton, Rhea Dall, Ramona Heinlein, Hannah Marynissen, Astrid Peterle, Carlotta Pierleoni, Andrea Popelka, Clémentine Proby, Tina Rivers Ryan, Margit Rosen, Jade Saber, Bettina Steinbrügge

Graphic Design: A Practice For Everyday Life

Exhibitions: Mudam Luxembourg – Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean, September 20, 2024 – February 2, 2025; Kunsthalle Wien, Wien, February 28 – May 25, 2025

Curators: Michelle Cotton, assisted by Sarah Beaumont

[davekat-sucks]

Oooh! I have my own headcanons as well!

John Egbert, movie critic and professional prankster, has a small Youtube Channel named EctoBiologist_143 that does a lot of skit based comedy reviews, think Nostalgia Critic without the scummy business practices. John also tries to code personal birthday card files for his friends, they work half the time, if unzipping the .ath file is recognized on the computer’s software.

Rose Lalonde loves to overanalyze kids media, especially squiddles as it’s a way for her to bond with Jade, and Rose notices quite a lot of references to the deep sea and hidden realms in the media.

Dave Strider, as much as he loves to remix and produce beats, he also learns the drums as a traditional instrument to play band, he made one EP with John Rose and Jade, he says he doesn’t want to publish because it “sounds too normal to be indie” bit really he wants a piece of his second family to keep as a memory. His first family was him and bro, and yeeeeeeah, he doesn’t like puppets, except Randy Feltface.

Jade Harley prefers to be a vegetarian, but her Bec side loves meat, she treats herself to black bean burgers and tofu sausages. Her mostly veggie diet comes from her gardening, making all-organic foods. Her Bec side also makes her droop when she’s near nuclear reactors, that’s why her job is reactor designer and not inspection.

Jane Crocker made an MSPFA called Professional Charlatan, an adventure about a hard-boiled prankster, an Adventuring Dandy and a Populist Ingenious work as a team with intelligensia from Master Kernel to defeat the insidious and undersea work of the MERMAID MOB. It is very obvious this is loosely based on Jane and her friends fighting the Condesce.

Jake English dabbles in the art, and takes from Pablo Picasso’s blue period. Rose has a very psychoanalytical idea for why he likes to draw so many blue landscapes, and round, wavy feminine shapes. Jake also draws Robots, a lot. He even gets commissions to draw corny 1950s sci-fi book covers!

Roxy teaches John how to make code in .ath that does not suck. She and John love to share simple code that range from ripoff arcade games to ascii gifs. She takes a lot of the wine her mom stored to be sold in a wine store she owns. Roxy likes to taste wine, but declines anything more than one glass to drink, modesty is policy!

Dirk Strider works with a lot of felt and soft fabrics. He actually makes quilts as therapy for living on his own for 16 years. He also likes to hang out with Dave, he looks up to Dave and how he turned out even with the worst Dirk in all of Paradox space. Dirk still has a manipulative streak where he tries to subtly convince Dave to binge The Muppet Show with him to grow a tolerance for non-smutty plushes. Dave still can not watch any scene with Gonzo without getting sweaty and tense.

This is a lot of text for 8 characters so if I ever do troll headcanons they are in a separate batch.