#me when robot. when i see a robot. Me when

[kaiserboom]

IS THAT MY RIVAL'S JERSERY? HOW COULD YOU??

A/n: this made me struggle cause I had to search up who Sae's biggest rivals were. Prompt: you wanted to prank your boyfriend so you order there rivals jersey online. cw. ooc, pure fluff, crack?, bad soccer metaphors. not proof-read AT ALL. Pairings: Itoshi Sae X fem! reader.

So, you thought, "Why not stir the pot a little?" You deliberately ordered Bunny Iglesia's ridiculously oversized Number 18 jersey- not because you're a big Bunny fan, but just to watch Sae's reaction when he sees it. Because let's be honest, the moment Sae saw Bunny on TV, loosing his mind with that explosive, raw anger? That was honestly kind of hilarious- and a sneaky little genius way to get under Sae's skin.

Fast forward to the day the package finally arrives. You're practically bouncing at the door, ready to pounce like a ninja on a mission. You grab the box before Sae even has a chance to blink. "Is that your package? What did you get?" he asks, half-focused on his plans for world domination or whatever plot he's obsessing over. You glance back at him, trying to look innocent- well, as innocent as someone about to cause chaos can look.

"Uhm, it's mine, but you can't look!" you say, voice trembling just enough to sell the act. Sae raises an eyebrow, already about to stand and snatch that package faster than a defender intercepts a pass. But before he can move, you dash away like a ninja on caffeine, clutching the box to your chest.

He sighs, defeated- probably tired of playing the "catch me if you can!" game- and doesn't bother chasing after you. You slam the door open and tear into the box with reckless fear. Your eyes widen when you see an oversized FC Bachara jersey, practically swallowing your whole body. You flip it around to see the name on the back "Bunny Iglesias Number 19." You giggle. Nervous maybe? Because you know, the second Sae finds out, you're so dead.

You pull the jersey over your head. Surprisingly, it fits perfectly- almost like it was made for you. But you know better than to keep it. Sae's house isn't a jerseys shrine, and you really don't want to be the reason he kicks you out faster than a soccer ball into the net.

Just as you're about to hide it under his bed, Sae bursts through the door like he's chasing a penalty shot. "Okay, seriously, what's in that package?" he demands, eyes narrowing.

Your stomach drops. You're about to yell, "Sae, I can explain!" But honestly, it feels more like you're cheating on him with Bunny Iglesias- and Sae's the jealous boyfriend ready to lose his mind.

"Explain what?" Sae stares at you deadpan, walking closer like a detective closing in on the suspect. Your panic skyrockets- the way his veins bulge from his forehead, the scowl that could scare off defenders- just before your about to die, you realize soccer was never this serious.

You stand there, sweating bullets, praying he won't explode. Finally, you muster up the courage to exhale, the breath you'd been holding. "Just remove it." Sae sighs. Relief floods you, so he's not about to kill you. But honestly, the way he looks at you now, you're pretty sure he's got plans to disown you as his girlfriend and replace you with a soccer robot.

Sae leans in, eyes narrowing with that deadly serious look. "Remove it, so I can ship you to Spain. Since you love Bunny so much." He mocks.

And you're left standing there, jersey still draped over your shoulders, wondering if your sneaky plan to mess with Sae's head was worth a one- way ticket to Barcelona.

a/n: I forgot abt this.

edit: this been in drafts for weeks. Decided to post it cause i'm not writing anything new..

[tarnishedxknight]

Leading this young hume had put a bit of pep in Shadow's step as well. It was something from his younger days that, even though he remember it only vaguely, felt right to do. He was helping, in the small way that a cat could. Upon reaching the lab, he was happy to see that this was indeed where the young hume had wanted to go. Job well done. Time to relax and get some cleaning done, which he promptly began on one of Tony's workbenches.

"Lord Stark," Tony repeated with a smile and a little shake of his head. "That will... never get old. But you can just call me Tony, if you want." He glanced over at the cat at Larsa's next comment. "Tech's my life, but this guy right here? He's only here for handouts and free chin scratches. Soon as I whip out the robotic lasers and the welding torch, he'll scamper outta here like a bat outta hell. Doesn't seem to mind when I bang on stuff, though, so loud noise isn't the problem. Guess he's just eccentric."

Shadow, as all cats throughout time were wont to do, noticed something close to the edge of the table and was immediately distracted by it. He got up and gently batted it with his paw until it fell over the side and onto the floor with a few clangs as it bounced.

"Really?" Tony complained. "Why do cats do that? It's like they're hardwired to knock things off tables and shelves."

Shadow looked up at him, somehow knowing he was being discussed, and promptly batted something else off the table, this time far more playfully.

"Oh, you're gonna make eye contact while you do it now, you cheeky little furball? That's so messed up," Tony said.

Shadow was happy with this, now sitting by the edge of the table, in the newly cleared space he'd made.

Larsa's answer to his question took Tony's energy way down, though, that familiar feeling of guilt rushing in as he was taken back to the fiasco of yesterday. "Nah, that-... I shouldn't have done that, that was my fault. Your dad should've told you about that, not me. Sometimes my uh... mouth gets ahead of my brain, you know?" He tilted his head from one side to the other, an unconvinced smirk following it. "Necessary? I dunno. Maybe he had a really good reason for not tellin' you, and I just screwed all of that up. Point is, I shouldnt'a done it, but now that it's out there... maybe... just try to talk to him about it? When you're both ready?"

Larsa did not expect to be unfrozen at all, let alone in the future. When he had snuck upon Gabranth's ship set for Pharos he did it to ensure the peace would be possible. The last thing he remembered was running towards fallen Gabranth and then... Light. (Marvel AU) - tarnishedxjudgement

@tarnishedxjudgement

Noah didn't have the same abilities and resources in this time period with which to inform himself of anything and everything that was going on around him. He was in the dark, most of the time, unless directly informed of things, a condition he hated. Being at the mercy of others he neither knew nor trusted for information was not a position he usually found himself in.

It was the reason he hadn't known about Drace being found after him until she was brought one day to the training compound. Inexplicably, after executing her in his own timeline, here she was again, seemingly from another. The entire experience was wholly jarring, but not nearly as jarring as losing his only son.

So often had Noah thought of Larsa in the months following his revival in this strange time. Thoughts invaded his peace, his sleep, his ability to function, until he found himself so erratic and unhinged that he did not recognize himself anymore. Even Drace found it difficult to comfort him, and she had always been a master of that feat. There was no closure to be had, no second chances, no going back... and that knowledge was eating Noah alive from the inside out.

But once again, information had been kept from him, and yet another arrival from Ivalice to the Avengers compound was neither expected nor necessarily wanted. Would it be another Dalmascan? Gods forbid a Rozarrian. And the way the people of this time seemed to think that all Ivalicians got along and would be happy to see each other was beyond irritating to him. Nevertheless, when he was specifically summoned to greet this newcomer, Noah begrudgingly left his quarters to do so.

What he saw... stopped him dead in his tracks. Within seconds, his expression betrayed him, and within a few more, he was on his knees, his legs giving way in disbelief of the sight that lay before him. It was little Lord Larsa, looking just as he did when last Noah laid eyes on him, perfect as can be.

He knew he should say something, but words betrayed him as well as his own legs had. Instead, he merely stared, the absence of his helm serving to display to the boy all the shock, confusion, and relief at seeing him standing there. Finally, he forced out the only two words he felt he could say without falling apart.

"My lord..."

[whisperedmeg]

MEG’S SOFT ANIMAL MANIFESTO 𓅮

so. the last chapter of my series, soft animal, has officially been posted. all 13 snapshots into this little world I created in my mind are yours now.

starting soft animal made me fall in love with creative writing again for the first time in years and I will forever be so beyond grateful to any of you who took the time to read all 50,000 (!!!) words of it. even if you only read a chapter or two, thank you. thank you thank you thank you. I love youuu.

now that the series is officially over, I wanted to do a little bonus post — a very chaotic, rambling “manifesto” with my thoughts, headcanons, general insights, etc. if that sounds like something you’re interested in, keep reading!

SPOILERS AHEAD — if you haven’t finished the series yet, stop now! you’ve been warned!! part 13 can be found here if you haven’t read it yet!!

this is obvious in the series masterlist, but in case you haven’t seen that, the title “soft animal,” as well as the final chapter’s plot structure, was inspired by the poem wild geese by mary oliver. some background on how I was inspired by the poem can be found here!

I started writing soft animal back in March, but the idea first came to me during a rewatch of s12/13 a few weeks before that. I’d been reading a lot of fanfiction around that time as well, and I kept finding myself imagining post-prison Spencer so differently than what I was seeing in the fanfic world. post-prison Spencer is so often written as this dominate, unfeeling, nearly robotic shell-of-a-human (or other end of the spectrum — he’s reduced down to solely his trauma and never given a chance to recover from it) and it just felt… I dunno, unrealistic to me, I guess? my brain started spinning with ideas on how to paint him in a different, more human light. i thought through a bunch of different scenarios for how he could possibly meet someone and fall in love during/after the prison arc, and my first few rough drafts tried out a bunch of different readers (there was a librarian, a bartender, and his temporary BAU replacement, to name a few). finally, I came up with the idea of a prison nurse, and thus, soft animal was born.

this story was always going to have a happy ending. i debated having them breakup for real and get back together down the line (what happened in pt 12 wasn’t a true breakup y’all lol just a fight and a few days of space), but I thought it might feel forced and it wasn’t really what I truly wanted to write about, so I trashed that idea pretty swiftly. but at no point did I even consider for a second that they wouldn’t end up together in the end.

I did, however, go back and forth on how far into their relationship I wanted the series to go, and ended up deciding that I wanted the final chapter to feel soft and cushy and somewhat open-ended while also giving readers the satisfaction of knowing they’re in a good place and planning for their future — hence that final moment (💍🎁). I almost wrote the actual proposal itself in, but I couldn’t get it right, so I left it as it was — and tbh, I like it way better that way. you know it’s happening, you feel the same hope she feels, and the same comfort she feels, too, because she doesn’t have any question in her mind over their future together. tldr, in case it isn’t obvious — the ring is in his pocket because he’s going to propose that same night, it just happens off-page.

if anyone feels like reader forgave spencer too easily for leaving, I get that. I realllly get that. but in my mind, the fight and his leaving is heavily contextualized by his trauma, and reader’s response is heavily informed by her background as a prison nurse. she knows he wasn’t himself when he did any of that, and she’s an excellent judge of character. she forgave him and took him back because she loves the version of him that came back, and she knows that’s the real spencer. but if you feel differently, that’s super valid. he said some awful things and abandoning her for days was notttt cool!! but again, context is key, and I think her choice to forgive him and take him back is super valid as well.

I started writing this series when I was going through a lot in my personal life. it’d been ages since I’d written something just for me, especially not something creative, and starting this series really helped me find myself again. I almost forgot how much I love writing — how cathartic it is, how exciting and frustrating and calming and wonderful it can be — and I’m so grateful to soft animal, and to all of you, for that. when I posted fluorescent mercy, I think I had, like, 7 followers. I expected it to get maaaaybe like 50 notes max if I got lucky with the tags. now there’s over 500 (?!!) of you here hanging out with me — I can’t even wrap my head around that.

I’ve gotten a few asks for soft animal headcanons — you can find those posts here and here, and below are a few more! I would absolutely LOVE to hear if any of you have soft animal headcanons yourselves as well, so pls share in the comments or send me an ask if you do 🥹

spencer has a thing for seeing her wear his glasses. it turns him on beyond belief. she discovered it by accident (she put them on as a joke one night when he misplaced them and she found them first) and she has absolutely weaponized it ever since.

she cuts his hair. not always — he goes to a barbershop sometimes. but when he’s been too busy to care for himself, he’ll sit on a stool in the kitchen and let her trim it.

spencer reads aloud to her in bed, sometimes nonfiction, sometimes poetry, sometimes just to hear her say, “Keep going,” in that sleep-heavy voice she uses when she’s halfway under.

they text like total weirdos. spencer sends her long rambly facts and screenshots of online crossword puzzles with exact timestamps of how long they take him. she sends him chaotic messages at unpredictable intervals that say things like today’s lunch is ✨sad✨ and guess which inmate bit me today. they never have actual conversations via text — spencer could never — it’s always just random one-off messages when they’re thinking of each other.

he got her a new stethoscope for Christmas. it’s her favorite color and engraved with her initials. generally, every gift he gives her is incredibly thoughtful (and she tears up almost every time). spencer reid, king of thoughtful gifts.

he has a favorite sound she makes in bed. he’s never told her that, but every time she lets it out — a breathy little gasp that breaks into a whimper — he groans low in his throat and starts moving a little deeper.

they have an unspoken agreement to undress each other slowly. every button, every inch of skin revealed, is an opportunity to touch, to look, to pause. they savor the undressing almost as much as the sex.

and here are some final trivia/tidbits/notes I’ll leave you with:

my personal favorite chapters overall are: fluorescent mercy, synodic curve, convergence zone, dark matter, and soft animal (ch13). but my favorite chapters to write were definitely verbal impulse and synodic curve. plz feel free to shout out your fave chapters in the comments! I’m dying to know!

the hardest chapters to write were fluorescent mercy (writing something bottled inside the prison infirmary was so hard plus it needed to set up the entire story and at least semi-accurately portray prison!reid so it took me forever) and long division (I hate angst with no happy ending so even though I knew it was just for 1 chapter, i still struggled baaadly. originally the make up scene at the beginning of the final chapter was at the end of long division because I couldn’t stand to keep them apart, but I forced myself to let the angst simmer a little longer so that the final chapter would feel more satisfying). I also spent a lot of time writing the final chapter, trying to make it perfect and figuring out just how deep into the story I should go.

the juicing oranges thing from convergence zone comes from a real-life experience I had with my grandmother once. honestly, reader’s parents’ general attitude towards her job and her relationship was heavily inspired by my real life grandparents (my parents rock, but my dad’s parents… oof. they can be tough to please. and they do random shit like show up at your house unannounced with fresh fruit for juicing as if that was something you’d literally ever expressed interest in doing before (it was not)

the sex scene in blind contour was originally SO much longer than it ended up being and was a lotttt smuttier lol. when I went back and reread it a few days after finishing the initial draft, I was like goddamn was i ovulating when I wrote this??? wtf. it just didn’t fit that moment, if that makes sense. so I toned it down to what it is now. but I’m saving some of the original ideas from that first draft for future (non-soft animal related) one shots lollll bc it was 🥵

I deadass cried when I woke up the morning after posting fluorescent mercy and seeing it had over 100 notes in less than 12 hours (granted I had like 7 followers when I posted it so I had extremely low expectations lol)

I will forever be mad at myself for using first person instead of second person. when I wrote the first couple chapters it was my first time writing anything creative in a while (and my first time writing fanfiction since like 2015) so I was veryyyy rusty and just used what came naturally to me, but I’m still mad about it to this day lol. I always call reader “her” instead of “you” because of this as well. major regret tbh but oh well, it is what it is!

fyi, everything I’ve ever posted related to soft animal is tagged #soft animal s.r. x reader. all chapters, asks, other posts, etc can be found under that tag in case you want to scroll thru!

the series is over, but that’s not to say I’ll never write about this pairing again. i love them entirely too much to abandon them completely, so you might see the occasional one shot/blurb/headcanon about these two in the future. stay tuned 🫶🏼 and even though the series is over, i am always, always happy to talk soft animal, anytime. send me an ask anytime you want!

from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who read soft animal. I can’t put into words how much it means to me. sending lots & lots of love your way.

[jjwolves]

PROPER DOCUMENTATION

What: 5 Part ENA the Worker X Reader Imagine Where She's Really Curious About Your Bod

Who: ENA the Worker from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)

How Much: ~1000 words, ~5 mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G, Divider -> @uzmacchiato

Warnings: NSFW (Smut, technically.)

ENA doesn't know much about your body, but you get the feeling that she really, really wants to. Almost worryingly so ever since you declared that you were hers and she was yours. Before, ENA's eyes would simply linger. The way your muscles would tighten when you lifted something heavy. The warm beads of liquid that would form on your skin when you were somewhere hot. The soft, subtle grooves between your torso, arms and legs. They were all apparently worthy of her... Well, staring. And now that you've given yourselves to eachother, looking isn't enough. She wants to explore you firsthand.

She picks up a weird new habit where she'll begin playing with and prodding your body when the work day gets slow. On a break, when sitting on a bench next to each other, ENA prattles on about business deals and new hires while a curious hand gropes at the muscles in your leg. "You're built so sturdy!" In a cramped cave where those robotic racketeers live, she does not hesitate to subtly pull at the back of your pants or shirt in the hopes that she'll see more, if only just a little more. It's like she takes little individual peeks in the hopes that she can reassemble you in her mind.

"What in the world was that?" ENA seems startled by your stomach grumbling. It's embarrassing, even more so when she has to stand in place, baffled by your biology. But she doesn't know, so the reaction is probably appropriate. You guess you're just not a big fan of being a weird alien in a world of weird aliens. Well, the sooner it's explained, the sooner you two can get breakfast. You begin to explain how your stomach is empty and so gases and fluids have to move around and make noise, but ENA places a gentle red hand over your mouth. "Hush now, littlest employee. Spoilers tank ratings, you know." Before you can react and show how confused you are, ENA hoists you up and carries you somewhere private: some sort of abandoned cafe with tessellating neon lights on the outside. She places you on a table big enough to fit you and lowers herself to your level, hands snaking under your shirt. Your skin prickles with excitement. "Is this observation approved by the higher-up?" You nod, and ENA begins running both soft and sharp hands over your stomach, gently kneading into the organic flesh and lowering an ear to its surface in order to "make sure the factory is in running order." Your pulse quickens.

You can never be sure if ENA knows, but something about her excites you and frightens you at the same time. You think it might be because of how strange she is, yet how similar she is at the same time. You also think a big part of it is the things she says, like right now, her hands are on your hips and holding you still as she grumbles in your ear with a gravelly voice, "I think your chest has a drum in it. Hah! Trying to distract me won't work. Now, you better produce some other kind of reaction or else... Hmm, maybe I'll just cut you open like the toad you are and root around under the hood for a while!" Your heart starts hammering harder as ENA traces gentle lines on your skin. Is it fear? No, no, it can't be--she'd never hurt you. So it must be... Something else. Something a little more shameful. You suddenly realize that ENA is holding you in a somewhat suggestive pose, leaning over you while her core presses between your legs. You don't think that she notices when they curl around her. Suddenly, her gravely voice gets low, lower and quieter than you've ever heard it. "You're pretty soft if I'm all it takes to get your tempo rising. You know what? Shouldn't you know how your body works if you live in it? So, tell me where else to look before I start coming up with scary ideas." Panting under her, you wiggle out of the modest workshirt you've been wearing and lay your chest bare to ENA, whose head rotates into a smoother approach. You didn't know that her red could get... redder. You were both learning things about each other today. "H-oh, oh my. I expected... Just, how elegantly crafted."Had she said anything else, you think you would be just fine, but having that be the first thing to come out of her mouth sends you over the edge. You surge forward to kiss her, to which she startles before returning it.

You tell ENA to keep going. She really seems like she wants to, her hands hovering over your chest. With your affirmation, though, she swiftly continues her analysis. Your favorite polygon seems to take a great enjoyment in just running her hands over your chest, feeling the beat of your heart underneath the swell. ENA blinks her eyes and shakes out of her stupor for a moment, attempting to force some formality into her voice. "Ahem. You have a very addicting product. Hats off to the manufacturer." Attempting (and failing) to channel an aura of detached curiosity, ENA begins circling the more sensitive parts of your chest. You inhale sharply underneath her ministrations. The colored walls of the room start to warm and wobble about as if coming to life. Something is about to happen, it's about to--Ring ring. ENA, once again ripped out of whatever trance she was in, hesitatingly brings her cup-phone to her ear. You think you hear chattering. Nevermind, that's shouting. It must be Froggy. "I think we'll need to pick this up at another time," ENA says, helping you get your shirt back on. It's not fair, you were just getting somewhere! You tell her that next time, you get to analyze her. "... I know a good deal when I see one! Yes!"

[prettyflyshyguy]

*You awake to the sound of pots and pans clanging together*

Sorry it took a bit. Idk how in depth this one will be, I am still recovering from A Lot going on in my life but I'm trying to squeeze this in real quick while I have a moment today.

I cannot BELIEVE we're almost at the end of the season!

Ough this little conversation was good. I love and hate how this show makes me feel like I'm looking in a mirror at times. It makes me want to evaluate myself, how I handle difficult things, how I talk and communicate effects others. It makes me want to work on myself. I'm not perfect, nobody is, but we can always try harder to be better yknow. I think the fact that this show has such a varied group of very different people, who all deeply care about each other, but all still handle things differently, it's really fun to watch but also can convey a strong message because you're viewing it through this slightly seperated lense (of Murderbot)

Gurathin you are really KICKING the hornets nest here (I love it I LOVE IT I love it when there's tension like this I love how high pitched the sound of the kettle boiling is)

I don't know if I'm seeing things but I thought I saw the slightest HINT of an eye twitch when MB turns to look at him and also the way this show uses lighting SO SUBTLELEY especially on actors faces is sublime.

The way right after it stares right at him he does the darting up, down, look away (RELATABLE) and just hits him with the "I notice you have an issue with eye contact." HILLARIOUS. 10/10. So glad the show just does a little throwback but also a moment of recognition between them. It is unlikely to bring forth anything positive (they're both too pissed at each other - and for good reason) but its nice to see there's maybe a moment of recognition. Regardless of if it leads anywhere positive, it's neat to see it thrown back in Gura's face. Get fucking dunked on.

The silent recognitionn right after, Gura slowly looks back at it directly in a moment of recognition and acceptance. No snappy retort, no snarky comment, he's had so much attitude and feels emboldened ("I never thought I'd make it this far. It's all bonus" dude is in full 'it doesnt matter! Fuck it!!' mode and he's not nearly as focused on self preservation as he might've once been. He's stressed, scared and acting a little bit irrationally given he probably deeply wants the rest of the crew to live! But him provoking the terrifying robot that their existence likely hinges on, is counter to this just a teeny tiny bit. Like sure, you don't know if you can trust it, but at this stage what choice do you have?)

Then just for MB to also quietly, uncomfortably look away too. As soon as Gura meets it's gaze it looks away, first in its eyes, then its head.

Ugh I love it.

"What is that?"

"Don't worry about it."

HOLD UP. THAT'S MY LINE. THAT'S MY CATCHPHRASE. YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! I MADE THIS COMPANY!!!

(I'm joshing but hearing it say that caught me so off guard - I use the phrase "Don't worry about it!" borderline excessively, its a running gag with a friend that it's become like a personal brand catchphrase. Thanks Murderbot. It's a good line. Very versatile. It almost always causes people to worry more but that's why its neat LMAOOO)

"If anyone tells you that, start worrying."

TOO TRUE LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Look hear me out, Gurathin is an asshole, absolutely, but he's painfully relatable a solid 80% of the time OK.

"It's so..."

"Yep."

"... Hot."

"Hot?? I-- thought you were gonna say frustrating..."

the way he's trying to brain it out in the background, he's repeating he words, he doesn't get it, MATE ME TOO LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOO

He loves his friends but every now and then they'll say something that short circuits his brain and he's suddenly violently isolated from their emotional experience and IT'S SO GOOD IT'S SO SO SO GOOD

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH THE FRAMING THE LITTLE HAD GESTURE OOOOOOOOOH I LOVE IT I love how much this show trusts its audience oh my godd

OK BUT THE FACT IT WAS LIKE "DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT"

ONLY TO PRODUCE A SEVERED HEAD FROM THE BAG

I'M THE TARGET AUDIENCE. WHOEVER WROTE THAT HAS A PSYCHIC CONNECTION TO MY BRAIN. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

I love that this ultimately was a group decision. No one's hand was forced (literally), they all acknowledged each other and the apprehension, and they all participated in the action.

They're all scared but they're all a part of it.

This looks so dodgy I love it. Just tape that shit straight onto it.

Also very fun that they personalised the drone (the green symbol painted on)

GOD THE HORROR - I love how in the end we were setup to think up until this point that it was going to prioritise itself over PresAux, like maybe it hit it's limit, maybe it'd decided it was done with them completely and it didn't care anymore. But nope, we were just left in the dark, the same as PresAux, because in the end we're humans too, and we'd be horrified too to find out that it's intention was to murder GreyCris - just like PresAux was when they found out. But it's doing it to save all of their lives. Beautiful. Horrifying. The push and pull. The price you have to pay, where you draw that line in the sand.

Also very funny how it said at the end of E08 "I'll write my own script" or something. And then it goes onto copy a plot from Sanctuary Moon. It's not a satirical comedy without a stupid bit. I love it.

The fact it goes to say something to them. It tries, it pauses, it hesitates, just to go "I... I copy."

And maybe, just maybe, this marks an actual true turning point inside Gurathin's brain. Maybe this is the moment that finally tipps him over the edge.

I have nothing intelligent to offer here except: WHAT GOOD SHOTS. WHAT GOOD FRAMING. WHAT GOOD USE OF CONTRASTING COLOUR/SHADE, MATERIALS AND SHAPES IN THE DESIGN LANGUAGE.

IT'S AFFECTED BY TURBULANCE MORE THAN IT USED TO BE?? IT SAID SORRY??? OH NO MURDERBOT THAT'S A LOT LIKE A HUMAN ISN'T IT LMAOOOOO

"Hello?? Do you have a PLUG in the back of your head??"

I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, HANG ON, JUST GIMMIE A SEC

I DREW THIS IN 2019. IT IS ENDLESSLY ENTERTAINING TO ME HOW SIMILAR GURATHIN IS TO O'BYRNE. THIS IS FUELING ME IN WAYS YOU WILL COME TO UNDERSTAND (if you're new here. Hi!!!!)

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. THE SIMILARITIES, THE PARRALLELLS, I'M NOT MAD TO CLARIFY--

I'M EXCSTATIC.

ANYWAY IT'S A GREAT DAY TO BE A #1 GURATHIN FAN OMFG

"Where are you from?"

They were spellbound.

"Where are we from? None of your fucking business."

"Fair enough. No need to be rude."

I'M CRYING

STOP THAT STOP THAT STOP THAT

PIN LEE COMING IN WITH THE SURVIVAL HORROR SPACE WRENCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

psychic information overload BRAIN BLAST

THE WAY GURATHIN NOTICES IT FIRST

oh MAN WHAT A GOOD FUCKING SEMI-FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This show really has done an excellent job at maintaining itself and just keeping the enjoyment going every time, it makes every episode worthwhile looking forward to, and so far there hasn't been a flop. Absolutely fantastic example of modernised serialised TV. I'm so excited for the finale. It will be bittersweet, with no clear indication if we're getting an S2, but even if we don't: this was a damn good ride.

OK - but some quick 'implications' comments to end on--

Mensah fired her gun at someone and almost hit then (which very likely would have been lethal)

Pin Lee decked a guy over the head with a wrench, which is absolutely lethal (it just would be slow, and horrific)

The beacon (hopefully) took out the remaining GreyCris that they didn't take out themselves (the degree of willingness on the leader to kill her crew was a really interesting and fun touch, it shows how differently they operate)

In the heat of the moment shit happened too fast for anyone to stop and think, but like. They're gonna have to live with this now. Especially Pin Lee (I hope this comes up later). That was brutal, and I hope it's something they have to reconcile with later individually as well as within the group.

It just stacks and stacks and stacks up. I love it.

[tynakiki]

💾 Daily Respawn

Pairing: Idia Shroud x Male Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Romance

Setting: Night Raven College (Mostly Ignihyde Dorm)

Word Count: ~3.5k

☀️ MORNING – [SYSTEM BOOTING]

You were jerked awake by the screeching buzz of your alarm. It felt like someone had slammed a frying pan into your skull. Sunlight barely trickled through the heavy dorm curtains, casting long shadows on the cluttered desk and flickering LED strips overhead.

You buried your face into the pillow. “Why is 7:00 a.m. even legal...?”

Across the room, the click-clack of mechanical keys filled the silence. Then came Ortho’s voice, bright and programmed to be too chipper for such an ungodly hour:

“Good morning, [Y/N]! You have Alchemy first period, and don’t forget—today’s laundry day!”

A muffled groan came from under the blanket near the corner where Idia’s cocoon of wires, pillows, and glowing screens hummed softly.

“Ignore the bot,” Idia’s raspy voice mumbled. “Let’s drop out and live in the ruins of some post-apocalyptic wasteland together. We’ll grow mushrooms. Trade them for internet.”

You turned your head just enough to see him peeking over the top of his blanket. His hair was glowing a soft blue, subdued from sleep, and his hoodie looked like he hadn’t changed out of it since yesterday — which you knew for a fact he hadn’t.

“You’re going to get scurvy from staying inside all the time.”

“I’ll get social scurvy if I go outside,” he shot back, curling deeper into his seat. “I like it better when you’re here. You buffer my social stats.”

You smirked, forcing yourself out of bed. “Then I’ll be your daily login bonus.”

“Bro—” He paused, squinting. “That was... objectively smooth. Rude.”

You dragged yourself toward the bathroom, yawning. Behind you, Ortho cheerfully reminded Idia that breakfast existed. The older Shroud mumbled something about protein bars and mini donuts.

Another normal morning in Ignihyde.

🏫 MIDDAY – [MAIN QUEST: SURVIVE NRC]

Alchemy class was mostly a blur — your potion fizzed out halfway, the professor docked points, and Azul smirked at you like he had some underhanded business scheme already brewing. Standard stuff.

But between the dull lectures, your phone buzzed with familiar, sarcastic texts:

[Idia] Azul looks like a deep-sea fish when he talks. Bet he has gills under that collar.

[Idia] You spacing out during class is my Roman Empire.

[Idia] Come back to Ignihyde. I’ve got a beanbag with your name on it and enough soda to kill a lesser man.

You rolled your eyes but grinned. Typical Idia — too shy to talk face-to-face for long, but bold when hidden behind a screen.

After your last class, you trudged your way back to Ignihyde and slipped into Idia’s room — dimly lit, chaotic, but comfortable in its own strange way. Monitors lined the walls like arcane windows into digital realms. The low hum of cooling fans was almost soothing.

Idia was on the floor, legs crossed, headphones slung around his neck, hoodie sleeves too long for his hands.

“I summoned you,” he said without looking up, “and you came. Just like a loyal familiar.”

“More like a tired boyfriend who skipped lunch.”

He blinked, then quietly stood and rummaged through a cabinet until he pulled out a bento box.

“…I saved this for you. Didn’t want you to turn into a skeleton in the halls.”

You blinked. “You made me food?”

“No! I mean—yes—but like, Ortho technically helped. I... supervised.”

You took the box and sat beside him on the beanbag, opening it to find neatly packed rice balls shaped like Slimes from his favorite JRPG. He stared intently as you took a bite.

“…Is it edible?”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “It’s actually really good.”

His hair flared pink for a second.

“Idia?”

“…Just—shut up. Eat your slime rice and pretend I’m a high-level boyfriend or something.”

🌆 EVENING – [SIDE QUESTS & CO-OP MODE]

Evening in Ignihyde was peaceful. Most students kept to themselves, the silence punctuated only by the occasional echo of someone tripping over a robot vacuum.

You and Idia were nestled into his couch, a tangle of limbs and controllers. The two of you were mid-co-op in a boss fight neither of you had prepared for. Idia’s character — a long-range spellcaster — had taken a critical hit.

“I’m dying,” he whined. “Tank me, (Y/N)-kun, tank me!”

“YOU’RE the one who ran into the aggro zone!”

“Don’t let me die! I’ll lose my streak!”

You barely managed to save him with a last-second heal. Idia flopped back dramatically, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow.

“That was close. I saw the Game Over screen.”

“You mean the one where I’m holding your hand while Ortho monologues over your dead body?”

“…Okay, weirdly romantic.”

The game paused. Idia glanced sideways at you, then leaned his head against your shoulder — just for a second, just long enough to make your heart do a dumb little skip.

“…Thanks. For, y’know… playing my game. Staying.”

You tilted your head, brushing some hair from his eyes.

“I’d queue up with you anytime.”

🌙 NIGHT – [SYSTEM SHUTDOWN]

Later, after you both brushed your teeth and turned off most of the glowing hardware, you lay side-by-side in the darkness. Idia’s bed was more of a nest, built from blankets, plushies, and beanbags. Your leg was pressed lightly against his, the only part of him not hiding under layers of blankets.

His hair glowed faintly, casting a soft blue halo around him.

“…You ever think about what things would be like if we weren’t here?” he asked suddenly. “Like, if we met in a normal school. Or in a party at some dungeon.”

“I’d probably still find you,” you said without hesitation.

He scoffed. “You’re too cheesy. I’m gonna get a cavity just from talking to you.”

“Too late,” you teased. “You’re already addicted.”

There was a pause. Then, so softly you almost missed it:

“…I am.”

You turned onto your side, wrapping an arm loosely around his waist. He didn’t pull away — just sighed and relaxed into your touch.

"You're the best part of my day, you know that?" you whispered.

"You're the... you're the only part of my day sometimes," he murmured. "And I’m okay with that. Just you. Respawn point. Safe zone. Whatever you wanna call it."

You chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“Good night, Player One.”

“Good night... Player Two.”

[END OF DAY COMPLETE – SAVE GAME? Y/N]

Save complete. Progress: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[staysdelulus]

Bodyguard Chan x Misunderstood "Brat" - Chapter One

A/N: I really hope you enjoy this story! Posting Schedule will depend on how many chapters I have ready (hopefully daily!). If you wish to join the taglist, please fill out the form linked here!

WC: 3,338

Masterlist // Chapter 2

She’s a brat. That’s what I expected he would assume. It wouldn’t surprise me, that’s how my parents viewed me. Y/n Liang. My name rolled off the tongue easily, a memorable name among the many other rich families. I was heir to Liang Corporations, the company that had been founded by my grandfather, pushing my family from middle class to richness in just a few years.

As our reputation grew amongst the citizens in the country, it was clear that security would be a necessity in our world. My father and mother had hired many - maids, servants, a cook, a driver, a butler, and now, a bodyguard. My bodyguard. The fifth one this month, I think. Bang Christopher Chan. And I would be meeting him today.

I sigh, yawning as I fidget slightly in my father’s office, my mother glaring at me with annoyance as she hissed at me again. “Stop fidgeting.”

I roll my eyes, but don’t respond, stilling my wringing hands and sitting up before she could continue to scold me. Looking around, the office was well decorated, plants in the corners, a family picture hanging behind my father’s office chair, which was seated in front of a large wood table. Everything was neat and tidy, a packet of paper meticulously stapled together on the desk, a pen sitting right next to it. The golden glint of the writing utensil shines under the bright lights.

I can hear a knock, and the voice of our family butler - Samuel - comes through the door. “Mr. Liang, Mr. Chan is waiting downstairs. Shall I retrieve him?”

“Yes, thank you,” my father replies, his drawl tired as he sighs, closing his eyes for a second. My brow furrows, but I don’t say anything.

The silence seems to stretch between us, neither me nor my parents attempting to strike up conversation. It was always like this, a simple routine. I would keep to myself, and my parents would check in on me. Occasionally. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I push it down. It didn’t matter. I just needed to pull through, make connections with other businesses, whatever else I needed to do to keep the corporation afloat.

Now that you are older, Y/n, you must think of your future. This means building connections with heirs of other companies, and finding someone who can support you. Do you understand? My mother’s words ring in my head, and I can practically see the scowl rising to my face. At the huff of my mother, I steel my expression, a frown on my face, brows slightly furrowed, but I don’t push my luck. The last thing I needed was my mother to start scolding me right as my bodyguard would walk in.

Speaking of him. A gentle knock on the door, followed by Samuel’s voice. “Mr. Liang, Mr. Chan is here.”

“Come on in.”

The double doors to the office are pulled open, and I straighten up slightly as I look at him. Bang Christopher Chan. His eyes flickered across the room, observing the surroundings before his gaze fixed on me, my mother, and then my father. He dips his head, his voice cold. “Greetings, Mr., Mrs., and Miss Liang.”

My parents greet him, and I grumble when my mother nudges me, greeting him as well. Chan was young, but older than me by three years. His hair was tousled neatly, dark black in a comma cut, suited in a black suit, his tie tucked in neatly. He had dark brown eyes, brows trimmed neatly above them, accentuating his nose and full lips. When his gaze flickers to me again, eyes cold, my gaze shifts to the side, turning back to my father.

I didn’t even realize how close he was. His steps were quiet, having stopped just a foot behind my chair, his eyes fixed straight ahead, like a robot trained to follow the orders of one man. One voice.

“Y/n, stand up and let Chan sit,” my mother frowns. I glare at her, but comply, moving to the side when Chan moved to sit silently.

“Chan,” my father begins, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s my pleasure.” The words that come out of that man’s mouth lack every bit of emotion. It was like he was a robot, his eyes emotionless as he spoke, like he was trained to just respond with appealing words. At the thought, I stifle a laugh, pressing my lips together. My mother glares at me, and I roll my eyes, huffing softly before I refocus my attention.

“Well, let’s get started then. This is Y/n,” my father looks pointedly at me, gesturing to me. “Y/n, say hi,”

“I’m not a baby,” I mumble. I shift my gaze to Chan again, my eyes wary as I take in his ever so icy gaze. “Hello.”

He dips his head before turning back to my father, who continues without missing a beat. “In the job description, I mentioned a few things. My daughter is a…”

His voice trails off, but my mother fills in the words. “She’s a brat.”

I frown, my protest already slipping out of my mouth. “I’m not-”

“That’s enough.” My father’s tone is clear, a no nonsense gaze in his eyes before he continues. “I apologize. Anyways. Your job will be to watch over Y/n here twenty-four seven. Make sure nothing and no one harms her, and make sure she’s safe at all times. She has a large bed in her room, so you two can share it, I suppose.”

My eyes widen at my father’s words, and I open my mouth again, but a sharp jab from my mother’s elbow shuts me up, my lips twitching as I hold back a hiss of pain. Chan nods, his voice emotionless again. “I understand, Sir.”

“Good,” comes my father’s reply. “In addition to that, I would like you to make sure she behaves. She’s at the age where she can begin building connections with other heirs to other companies, but she hasn’t been listening to our orders. Please do your best to discipline her.”

My eyes narrow at my father’s words, but I refrain from talking back. Whatever. I block out the rest of the conversation, my father’s voice a slow drone in the background as he sets out the various tasks for Chan to complete. When they’re done, Chan nods once, his head dipping perfectly in a forty-five angle before he speaks, his gaze shifting to me. “I understand, Sir.”

I want to roll my eyes. Thirty minutes in, and he’s barely said, what? Ten words? But a sharp glare from my mother makes me bite my lower lip, Chan standing as he shakes hands with my father and mother. He turns to me, his presence suddenly menacing as he looks down at me coolly. When his eyes meet mine, my gaze drops, and I mutter under my breath. “I’ll go up to my room, Dad. Mom.”

They nod, and I leave my father’s office, Chan's footsteps at my heels. When I stop suddenly, he doesn’t flinch, stopping with no trouble as I turn to him. “Are you seriously staying in my room?”

“Yes,” his voice is curt, but when I wait for more, he continues, voice cold and clipped. “I’m to follow your parents’ instructions.”

His hidden words are clear. My feelings don’t concern him. I nod, eyes shifting away before I continue to walk, turning back to head up the large staircase. I find my room, my bed made neatly, desk littered with books and notebooks, a pencil lying in the middle of the papers, the chair in front of my desk pushed in. My face flushes at the mess. “I’ll clean that up.”

Chan doesn’t say anything, standing stoically against the wall as he watches me, my hands quickly stacking together the papers and pushing the notebooks neatly into a shelf on the side of my desk. I dust off my hands when I’m done, glancing at him, but his eyes remain cool as he observes me.

“Can’t you, like, say something?” I ask, not letting the annoyance I felt rise as I stared at Chan. His lips twitch, but he remains silent for another second before speaking. “Thank you for cleaning your desk.”

I blink, stupefied at his words, before huffing. I gesture to the bed, my tone cool as I speak. “Whatever. You can sit. Here. Or on the chair. I don’t care.”

He nods, but remains standing. I roll my eyes, clenching my fists before I turn to my bathroom, my voice ringing out clearly. “I’m going to use the restroom. Don’t bother me.”

“I won’t.” His voice is enough to piss me off, but I refrain from exploding as I slam the door behind me, holding back a hiss of annoyance as I lock the door, leaning against it tiredly. My eyes squeeze shut for a moment. In. Out. Breathe. And again.

I’ll be fine.

--

The next day, a loud shrill wakes me up. I groan, my eyes fluttering open to see Chan already up, standing in the corner of the room as he stares straight ahead, jaw tensed. I groan, my voice sharp. “What the hell is that?”

“Your new alarm,” Chan answers. “It’s eight, you should be up.”

“Turn it off,” I grumble, pulling the blankets over my head. “I’m sleeping in.”

“You have a luncheon to attend,” Chan says calmly, his eyes flicking to me. “Your mother’s orders.”

Right. That thing. The luncheon occurred once a year, always at some extravagant venue, full of powerful business families, divided into their little allied groups. Everyone was always dressed up, showing off their wealth, snide comments being made as people conversed with their so-called “friends”. Sharks disguised in silk, and snakes disguised in gold. Everyone had the same smiles - tight-lipped, eyes glassy, words smooth.

With gritted teeth, I sit up, my hair slightly tangled as I yawn, grabbing the alarm and flinging it across the room. The clock shatters on the ground, parts flying as the screen cracks, the mocking light flickering as its life sputtered out. Chan immediately snaps, his voice sharp. Not loud, just sharp. “Pick that up. Now.”

“No,” I answer, glaring at him. “I didn’t ask for a new alarm, did I? Go tell one of the maids to get rid of it for me.”

Chan’s eyes fly to yours, his voice lowering despite the growing redness in his ears. “You’re not my employer, Y/n. You don’t give me any orders. Now pick. It. Up.”

I falter, ever so slightly, at the venom in his voice. He wasn’t loud, but he was clearly dangerous. Different from the previous people my parents had hired. Chan takes another step forward, his voice hard, and his lips pulled back in the faintest of sneers. “I’m not new to this, Y/n. I suggest you don’t challenge me. I’ve worked with people like you before. People who destroy things for attention because they don’t know what the word ‘no’ means. Brats, Y/n. Brats with more money than sense.”

My lips part, preparing a sharp retort, but he’s not done. Not even close. “I’m not your servant, nor am I here to be liked. Let alone by someone like you. I’m here to guard you.”

“If you think that means indulging in your tantrums, maybe you’re just mistaken,” he hisses, each syllable enunciated.

“You don’t know me,” I snap back, my eyes narrowing.

“No,” Chan agrees, his lips curving upwards in a mocking smile. “I’m glad I don’t. But I do know your type. Now hurry up and get dressed, lest your mother barges in here angry.”

With that, he stalks out of the room, the anger clear in his stiff posture. But of course he remained cool, his professionalism having already put me in a box. Y/n Liang - Unworthy Brat.

--

The ballroom sparkled with gold and champagne, the colors clashing, painting an image of luxury, wealth, and prestige. Gold trims wrapped around seats, lining the table clothes and the walls. A pianist sat in the back corner, playing some soft tune to mask the danger of the snakes in the room. I hated it already.

Taking a deep breath, I push my sunglasses higher on my nose, scanning the room as I chewed on my gum, lips curling up into a mocking smirk. People were already staring, no doubt in amusement or distaste at my outfit - a black, cropped top and short blue jeans, all clad with extravagant gold chains, my black shoes clashing with the gold tiled floors.

Whatever. They could stare. I was good at this, good at playing the role of a bratty, difficult, and dramatic heiress. They could call me hopeless, but I could act like I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let them control me. Never.

My mother nudges my back, the gesture seemingly graceful despite the sharpness between my ribs. “Smile,” she says quietly, her eyes polite despite the telltale signs of her anger. “Do not embarrass us today.”

“I’ll try,” I say, smiling sweetly. “But maybe don’t bring me next time.”

Two steps behind us was Chan, of course. Unblinking and suited up, looking very much like the prominent bodyguard he was. His face remained passive, but I could already feel the disapproval he had for me. I meet his gaze, my smile growing as his eyes narrow, flickering back to the crowds.

The crowd buzzes as caterers begin making their way out of the siderooms, holding small dishes of food and glasses of champagne. When I reach for a glass, Chan pushes my hand away, his voice rough as he leans into my ear. “You’re underage. No drinks.”

I roll my eyes, pulling my hand back as I turn away, my voice annoyed. “Fuck off.”

“Y/n.” If I was home, my mother would’ve striked me across the face. Thankfully not. Chan straightens, his voice cold. “It’s alright, Ms. Liang. Miss Y/n will be straightened out.”

My lips purse as I turn to my mother. “Why don’t you go talk to Mr. and Mrs. Lee? They’re over there waiting.”

She shoots me another sharp glare, the threat in her eyes clear - don’t embarrass the family. I don’t really care, but I nod stiffly anyway. When she’s gone, I let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping as I move through the crowds. Chan stays with me, of course, his presence ever suffering; I do my best to ignore it, though.

That’s when I hear his voice. Jang Eunhyuk. “If it isn’t her herself, Miss Y/n Liang.”

I turn, facing him head on, his hair combed to the side, body clad in a suit. My lips curl in a sneer at the sight of the tech company heir, his tall frame flashing a tight smile. All teeth, no charm. He laughs softly at the flicker of annoyance across my eyes. “Still skipping board meetings?”

“Still measuring your self-worth with Powerpoint slides?” I ask without blinking. Eunhyuk’s smile slips for just a second. In the corner of my eyes, I see Chan stiffen, his eyes glaring at the side of my head, shoulders tightening as he adjusted a cuff.

Eunhyuk’s smile doesn’t waver, despite seeming more forced. His eyes flicker with annoyance, the irritation evident as he leans in, voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “Still got a sharp tongue, I hope you put it to good use. Although, I admit, I was hoping to see a new leash around your neck. Your parents aren’t shy of complaining about you, Y/n.”

Chan’s about to step in, no doubt pulling me away from a man with such lewd comments, but I wasn’t going to back down from a fight. My smile grows wider. “Aw, I didn’t know you cared so much about me. It’s one thing to be jealous, but you’re teetering on projection, hm?”

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You might be a brat, but we both know you’re fake,” Eunhyuk continues. “Your image is exhausting, isn’t it? You’re just trying to act like a rebellious heiress.”

My face falls for a split second. Eunhyuk doesn’t notice, but Chan does, a muscle in his cheek twitching. I know he’s about to step in, his hand already moving, but I push him back, my voice a sharp hiss as I tilt my head, glaring at Eunhyuk. “At least I don’t try to act interesting. People are just drawn to me.”

Eunhyuk doesn’t bother hiding his true thoughts, his lips curling back into a sneer as he turns to Chan. “Tough job you’ve got, babysitting this thing. I don’t envy you. Not a bit.”

Chan doesn’t respond, his expression passive except for the twitch in his left eye. He straightens his posture, his eyes sharpening as he gives me a pointed look. Maybe I didn’t like Chan, but at least he was on my side. He was supposed to be, anyway.

“Be careful, Eunhyuk. You may think I’m a brat, but I’m not spineless. I’m not going to kiss up every CEO and heir just to feel important,” I hiss.

Eunhyuk lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, but you do throw tantrums and fuck every cock who doesn’t care if you’re a whore.”

“At least I have fucked,” I retort. My cheeks flush slightly. That was a lie, but he didn’t need to know. “Better than having to ride someone else’s cock just to feel powerful.”

His mouth falls open, eyes widening and lips parting as if he’s about to say more. I’m already turning away, catching Chan’s gaze - cool and unreadable. As I walk away, Chan tailing me, I continue, my voice a bored drawl. “Later, Eunhyuk. Try not to drown in daddy’s shadow.”

As I make my way around the rest of the venue, a group of girls, all in pastel designer dresses snicker. I turn to them slowly, as one of them calls out to me. Baek Iseul. She reaches out, her nails scratching my skin as she laughs. “Y/n! I loveee your outfit, it’s so cute, isn’t it?”

She moves closer, the wine glass tipping precariously. That’s exactly when she makes her move, the red liquid tipping onto my clothes. She coos, her voice full of a feigned surprise. “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

I take a deep breath, one I couldn’t hold back as the first flicker of anger flashes through my eyes. She just smiles, muttering as she turns back to her friends. “Brat tax.”

I blink, turning away as I stare down at my soaked clothes. My smile was tight; it should’ve been trademarked. I could even hear my mother’s voice in my head. “Let it go, let it go.”

I couldn’t. With an angry scream tearing from my throat, I kick a chair to the ground, my chest heaving. I can hear the sudden silence, the faltering conversations, music coming to a stop. Iseul steps back, her eyes flickering with the slightest bit of fear, truly startled. I swallow, feeling the angry gaze of my mother as Chan grabs my wrist, his eyes already blazed with anger.

“Oops,” I say sweetly as I turn to everyone else. “My mistake.”

The air immediately shifts as people turn back to their conversations. Judgements and whispers cloud the rooms. Typical. Y/n again. Always the Liang daughter. So dramatic. Brat.

I avoid Chan’s gaze, but I can feel his eyes on me, staring me down like a spotlight - heavy and assessing. I wondered what this was. Exhibit A in Why Y/n Liang is a Brat, maybe? I grab a glass of water, muttering a thanks to the waiter before stalking away, ignoring the fire rising in my chest and throat. Whatever. Like Eunhyuk said, I had already established my role, hadn’t I? A brat.

And Chan? He had signed up for this, hadn’t he?

~~

@kenia4

[push-and-hold]

This is a fic for @msmimundo,inspired by the most hearbreaking work ever. Please go look at it, and give it all your love! (While writing I got inspiration from here too. Those expressions were destroying me)

ALSO, mundo got to read this one last month and posted this piece from a scene in the fic (^:

You can read it on AO3 with an additional scene.

Übernächste

The one after the next.

Heinz dies. It's something neither of them could have imagined, that he would go before Perry. The good thing is, he's left some notes in neat hologram form.

Funny, because they help him to keep going. Funny, because he really doesn't want to anymore.

Rating M Character death, Hurt no comfort, Perry the Platypus whump, Suicidal Thoughts, Established relationship, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Platypus Anatomy (1 NSFW scene)

3.

It’s a nice ceremony, or as nice as he can arrange on his own.

Perry is… as good as he can be. He hasn't cried yet. Doesn't think he will.

He stays close to him, stealing glances every time he feels the need to see Heinz’s face to gather up some strength. 

The Flynn-Fletchers check on him from time to time, asking him to come sit down with them, step away from the open coffin for a minute but he doesn’t really want to. Still they keep an eye on him, anyways, and he sends them a tame nod every time he catches them staring with wet tracks down their cheeks that not one of them attempts to wipe away.

Roger attends politely and leaves in silence after a few minutes, looking a bit lost. He is glad there is never a pother with him.

Vanessa is inconsolable. How could she not be? The moment she sees him she runs for a hug, or rather, she hugs herself with him. Her face is buried in his shoulder, sniffling until his old fur is soaked.

Charlene walks towards them with watery eyes, kisses the tips of her fingers and gently pats the casket before squeezing Perry’s humid shoulder in solidarity as she untangles Vanessa from him to take her to the rest of the family.

Norm stands firmly besides him, leaking oil the whole service. When the final viewing is announced he doesn't let Perry look inside the coffin again. It's a good call, probably.

Heinz looks so peaceful, and Perry has wanted to climb in with him this whole time.

Go to sleep together, as they had been doing for the last eleven years.

14.

The clashing of metal going on in the lab steals his focus from the book between his paws.

He can't stand Vanessa and Norm anymore. 

That's a lie.

He loves them, of course, and he appreciates the company but they have been overbearing, almost 24/7 and he can't stand it anymore.

They used to be so quiet, calm and independent kids that got along great and would at most argue over who gets to choose what music to blast next.

Lately, they have been causing nothing but trouble at every waking hour. Breaking the good china. Fighting over the food in the fridge. Bickering on and on about petty things that escalate until they are crying out for him, “Perry! Come see what he/she did!”, and he is too old to deal with this anymore. They are too old to be doing this; and yet being here all over his back is, absurdly, the one thing that they seem to agree over nowadays, even when there is no reason for them to be here to begin with. 

Vanessa should go back to work—maybe then Carl would get off his back, too—and Norm really should resume his backpacking through the earth else he will fall behind schedule.

But they don't want him to be alone, it seems. Don't want him to “do something stupid”.

He doesn't really understand what they mean, when the only “something stupid” going on here lately is their const–

There’s an explosion.

Again.

Murky smoke comes through the hallway, forcing him to close the book and put it down. It makes a defeated thump when it connects with the table, and the lukewarm cup of tea clinks by its side.

“Norm!” Vanessa's voice, “Dad is not… You have to be careful now!”

“It is fine." Comes the robotic reply, “I can fix myself. This is important."

Perry rolls his eyes and reaches for his phone . There is only one number set for speed dial and he clicks on it by pure instinct. He picks the tea from the table and takes a sip, definite on not being the one dealing with this today.

The phone rings one, two times.

And then a third.

“Perry!” Vanessa yells for him, right on cue, “Perry!”

Fourth ring.

“You need to come see this” she walks in with a skip on her step, just in time for the fifth and last ring.

Just in time to see him crumbling down.

“This is Heinz Doofenshmirtz,” hesays the voice on the other end. “Please leave a message after the krkrkrkr.” A beep after his own voice.

…

Oh. Right.

He forgot for a minute.

Huh. His paw is shaky. It seems like he needs a check–up because he has to gasp to get some air to his lungs.

Even then it’s not enough.

The tears that have been looming behind his eyes ever since he woke up that dawn finally spill and he calls the number again, and Vanessa’s twinkle fades.

She’s by his side in less than a second, forcing the phone away from his hands. He sees her scream, but hears no sound.

Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Heinz Doofenshmirtz .

It’s a hard realization. Knowing that he won’t answer the phone anymore.

It feels like bile is pooling in his mouth. Instead of swallowing it as he was trained to do he leans forward to spit it out, but nothing comes. He reaches for the table. His claws rip and chip the wood with as he grips it, but he just really needs to hold onto something because the world is spinning wild. He is gonna fall, he is gonna fall, even sitting down, it feels like he is gonna fall.

It feels like an eternity, too  fast and agonizingly slow. He can see Norm enter the room and lock his sensors on him.

The robot-man procures a blanket from his hollow torso and wraps Perry with it, rendering his arms useless under Norm’s hydraulic force.

The two of them are holding him. Talking to him, maybe. He can’t really tell with his voice rolling in his head.

Hours later, long after the foundations of his reality have imploded and the structural integrity of his psyche has collapsed upon itself; hours after his last tears have long dried off on his fur leaving his chest hollow; hours later when he can finally breathe again and the tremors have subsequently stopped and his mind feels clear and focused, Vanessa and Norm are still curled up around him.

It's a good thing that they are here.

He wants to do something very stupid.

16.

With the click of a button it comes to life.

It’s not his last machine and it’s not part of his open patent legacy, but the remote doesn’t have a self-destruct button which means that even without Norm’s protocol they might have figured out that it’s important, eventually.

The lights dim and five spheres float around the lounge, each humming with a low resonance that barely makes any noise but pulses on the walls. Perry feels the steady beating of the room coursing through his webbed feet.

The small devices ascend all the way to the roof before they begin a slow orbit, dancing around each other before casting a soft glow with no particular direction. They spin on their own axis until the beams of light shooting from each one converge in the middle.

And then Perry sees it. Him .

He is here, but he isn’t.

“So…” His voice is clear and nervous. Feels like a stab right between the ribs. “It happened.”

It did.

“Even with the first few scares I didn’t really think  that I would be the first to…”

Perry didn’t think so, either.

“I guess my past finally caught up to me. Those early years of famine and all the accidents. And all the adrenaline of an evil life, I guess. And the explosions. And the poison. Oh, you know what I mean. You get me. You are the only one that ever did.”

“In any case, Perry the Platypus. I want you to have these. I never really expected you to hear them, but I did make them just in case, that last time you had to rush me to the hospital. Because I love you, and I know how it is to be alone.”

“And I don’t want you to be alone”

The message ends, but the hologram stays. 

Perry chokes on a sob. Looking at Heinz’s face he can’t help but think, “Then why would you leave me?” 

19.

The living room blinds are stuck and refuse to come down. Or is it him who insists on keeping them up, knowing that Heinz would have liked to look outside the window?

The aftershave that lives in the bathroom doesn't smell as good as before. It lacks that tarty pinch of Heinz to elevate the scent.

There is an unfinished project on the workbench, covered in a thin coat of dust. He can’t bring himself to touch it.

There is a huge spot on the bed that is cold. It will forever remain cold.

21.

His tail tweaks at the subtle buzz of the projectors scanning the room.

He’s rejected a few offers by now, from Vanessa and Norm and the Flynn-Fletchers, about living temporarily with any of them so he won’t stay inside all alone but there is no need.

(Except, there is. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. What he does do, is spend hours in this half-lit space; frozen under Heinz’s image, circling it from every possible angle, looking at this form so well defined he can almost forget that if he were to reach out with his paw it would find nothing but empty space.)

‘Heinz’ turns to look at him with a knowing smile. A small tilt of the head, familiar mischief in those eyes that so painfully mimic life.

“Okay, okay, Perry the Platypus. I know what you're doing.” The mirage raises a finger, scolding and worried and fond. “You’re just sitting there. You’ve been watching me all this time, haven't you?”

Perry doesn’t move. The expression on Heinz’s image softens.

“I knew you would be. You get stuck. You obsess with me and I still don’t know why, herzchen, when you were always the most interesting creature between us.”

The sound of his chuckle graces Perry’s ears. He had no way of knowing hearing it again would hurt this much.

“But listen. I sort of did make these to keep you trapped, but not like this.”

“You will understand later. Hopefully you won’t be too mad then. Meanwhile, you have to leave the room. I don’t want you fixated on the hologram, you know I get jealous.”

Perry’s throat is too tight to swallow.

“You should go somewhere else, I need you to.”

A beat of silence, then he smiles again, softly, the way he does only for him.

“I promise it will still be here. I will always be here, waiting for you. Bis morgen, süßer. I’ll see you tomorrow." 

The audio ends, and only the hologram remains.

Still. Glowing. Waiting. Pleading.

Even now he is unable to say no to those eyes.

He tells the family over dinner that he does need to stay with someone, and everyone seems ecstatic about it.

30.

One night, for no particular reason, he has an impromptu sit down with Linda and Lawrence until very late, and they talk about everything and anything.

About the weather. About his old job. About some of the nicest moments they have all shared together. About how much fun having a slumber party feels now, compared to when they were teens.

It’s only when they ask about Heinz that it occurs to him just how used he is to death.

His line of work was full of it. There were countless agents MIA after missions gone wrong.

Animals with various lifespans meant replacing codenames over and over again, every few days, every few months. Agent T is a good example. There is always an agent T, a new one every few years, all gone by November.

There are evil-doers victims of their own wrongs, foiled plans that need to have a permanent stop. People too dangerous to keep locked.

He's used to it, had to partake in it on countless occasions, before retirement (that is something he does not tell them, and he hopes they can’t infer it.)

He's desensitized to it, but he understands now that the hardest part wasn’t his death. He is used to death.

What he's not used to, is this feeling. 

He feels lost, and the north of his world is unreachable now.

He tells them so.

49.

Candace and him are sitting down, mug in hand. Her husband is making breakfast.

She looks at Perry, but so far besides a normal good morning when she let him in she hasn’t said anything yet.

“I’m happy to see you around, pal.” Jeremy says as he moves around the kitchen, “Hope that plain eggs will be ok.”

It’s so early that her children are still asleep. He’s sleepy too, because he had to fly extra early for his message because apparently all that Candace wants for her birthday present is his presence here first thing in the morning.

“Thank you, Jeremy!” She says when he brings the plates to the table.

Jeremy presses a kiss to the top of her head, “I’ll be upstairs in case the kids wake up. Call if you need anything.” 

Then it’s just the two of them.

“How’ve you been?” Candace asks when they are alone.

He shrugs and takes the fork. He’s not really hungry but takes a bite anyway.

“Yes. I thought so.”

The silence has always been strangely comfortable with her. Not so quiet, barely deafening. It gets him emotional for some reason, sniffling before he realizes it’s happening.

“Hey,” she says gently, “He’s not that bad of a cook. Rude.”

It’s not that funny but it does crack him up, and Candace smiles at him, as if it mattered.

Her hand goes to Perry's head, stroking slowly and respectfully. He drops the fork to lean into her, allowing himself to feel her love.

It’s been so long since she had pet him, and her touch was always delicate. She strokes around his eyes and ears. Her palm advances little by little, scratching, pinching where she knows it tickles him, following the line of his spine until she picks at something and her fingers pause. 

“Your pelt,” Perry can feel her passing the same spot, “it's getting scratchy here.”

She taps the hind of his body, all the way to the tip of his tail.

Perry hangs his head, because she’s right.

If he’s honest, he hasn’t combed it for a long time. It’s not something he’s had to do, because Heinz was all too eager to do it for him.

Sentiment wells up heavy on his back. It’s gonna hit him hard if it builds up anymore.

“I know, Perry,” she says, “I understand. I don’t mean it like that, but I hate to see you like this.” She gestures vaguely over him.

“This is why I asked you to come. The Perry I know is, and I hate to admit it, kind of cool. Usually. You looked good, and Heinz took pride in that, you know? He once spent half an hour explaining the right way to curry a platypus. I didn’t understand a word.”

Perry looks at her in despair. This is not helping the sorrow.

“Enough of that, man. I’m not saying this to make you feel worse, but he wouldn’t want you like this” she digs into her bag, “I love you, ok? And I loved him too. I want to  take care of this in his place. Well, not me directly, but I´ll overlook it. Vanessa helped me find a good place.” 

She pulls out two tickets.

For a spa?

“Come with me.”

He shakes his head immediately, but she gets a hold on his paw before he can pull away, 

“Please. Just this once. It’d make us both feel better. You know he’d approve.”

It irritates him a little that she knows what words to say to convince him of anything.

“Good enough,”Candace says ruffling the chronically disheveled hair at the top of his head when they are out.

He does look great. Lighter without the excess of undercoat. The mats over his belly are gone thanks to the herbal conditioner they put all over him.

His pads do hurt a little, he was getting used to the long claws, but that will sort itself in a couple of days.

It comes as no surprise that a party awaits them back at Candace’s house.

It’s the first time that he can feel himself smile. It’s also the first time he’s felt a little bit better, ever since the funeral.

73.

Perry the platypus! I'm so happy you could come today! 

Thank you for that. How's Vanessa? I'm sure she's been alright, my little girl.

Did I tell you I left some of these for her? She gets them in her texts, though. She never really liked the holograms. Too messed up for her.

Did you have a good week? Did you help your boys with that new thing? I'm sure you did, you always do.

Sorry for leaving early. I told Norm to have dinner with you today, it’s on his calendar. He promised he would be in Danville today so he must be downstairs.

I have to go now, you see. Evil never rests. But I look forward to our next time.

Wir sehen uns übernächste, liebling.

I love you.

100.

The hole Heinz left in Perry’s heart is small enough that it won't kill him.

But sometimes, he wishes it did. He wishes it was big enough to end him. Or that his love for Heinz could wither just enough to let him end it himself.

He always feels ashamed after those moments, for being so selfish. For being so stupid.

116.

“… and I think I never told you so, but your name is my favourite word in the world. Plus -inator, of course, but Perry is… saying it makes me so happy. I use it all the time, süßer.”

‘Heinz’ has been talking for two hours and Perry is smitten. He can’t bear to see the phantom today, so he listens with closed eyes haunted in a way that he can stand.

“My one and only, Perry the Platypus.”

‘Heinz’ calls his name, and the demolition hammer finally gives him a break.

“This is my partner, Perry the Platypus.”

‘Heinz’ calls his name, and he can finally pretend to be a survivor, emerging with new life from rubble and ruins.

“I love you, Perry the Platypus”

Heinz calls his name, and the destruction enters stasis, suspended in time. Ready to continue the moment he goes back to real life. 

148.

He’s old. So very old and he knew the man for most of his life and that fills him with irrational fury.

How dare he? How dare he?

It feels unfair. It is so unfair. He’s loved him for most of his life, he was the center of his life this whole time. How can he enjoy the rest now, all on his own? He can’t. Doesn't know how, anymore, too old by now to redefine himself, too stubborn to sway his affections when even as they festered he clung to them tooth and nail. He is ruined, unequivocally, unavoidably ruined.

So today he rages.

He screams, he breaks the things stored down in his old lair, he wails and curses his name.

Today Perry the Platypus hates Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

It's just as crushing as loving him, considering their history.

157.

I see you are still coming here. It’s cute how you still never miss our appointments.

But surprisingly I don’t have much to say today. Not to you at least.

No, I’m not mad. I'm busy as you can see. You went to Phineas’ award ceremony so I’m deep vacuuming. Who would have thought that your fur would still be getting anywhere huh? 

Don’t mind me. I’m just talking to myself. And speaking of myself, Do you know what I talk about when you are gone? Do you want to?

You are free to go if you don’t want to, because once I start it’s gonna be a while until I stop.

…

Alright, I can see that you are still here. Er… well, not see, but the thingies made the scan and you are still here so...  Here's a list of things that I told myself I'm never telling you.

There are a lot more of these, actually. Like, a thousand at the very least, but I said "Hey, I really could distribute it in small doses you know? He does get tired of hearing my voice", which means you might start hearing this intermittently with the other notes sometimes, ok?

Ok.

So.

Here it is.

Let's start with these, these are my favourites.

First, I love that you file your claws. You look so good while doing it. Like, really prim Perry the Poshypus. I like them better long, but the visuals when you do so. Impresionante. Very nice.

Secondly, I think that the scars on your bill are really sexy. Oh gosh, I can't believe I'm saying this.

Next, I huh... Sorta had a crush for you the whole time? Well, almost the whole time. I didn’t really like you the first day, or hated you if I’m being honest, but then next time came and the first time we really fought you pushed me against the self-destruct button and bam! I was gone, just like my –inator. You got me there. I wonder to this day when it was that you started liking me, by the way, but now you know when it took off for me. Next I knew I was " Wow. I'm SO in love with him right now " when we were dancing at the new year party.

Coming number four, I love that soft fuzz you have on your tail. I love that you let me wash it and brush it. I didn't even know Platypus could grow that cute fleece on their tails, until you quit and it started growing back! I'm sorry you had to use it so much that it went bald but... Hey, I feel like it says something about us that I'm the one that helped it grow back. I can't quite put it into words so just... 

Thank you.

Oops, the vacuum died. Give me a moment.

Huh. 

Oh, I see. 

There! Now it’s on.

It shouldn’t stop with that.

Where was I? O right, fifth. So, speaking about your tail…

162.

Perry wakes up early, or rather he doesn't sleep.

Not out of sadness like other times. Something like static is running inside him. It has him itchy and restless, full of energy for the first time in a long while.

The streets outside are too quiet. Natural for the wee hours of the morning.

Snow is falling down, adorning everything with a nice sheet of white.

The jetpack roars to life and the fire gives him the fake illusion of warmth as he courses through the sky, the tips of his fur covered in icicles that he doesn't notice.

In spite of everything, Perry smirks.

His paws are trembling. His eyes are wide, unfocused, almost fevered.

But he is so happy. So wildly, inexplicably, shatteringly happy.

It feels like he wants to hear it. He can almost hear him.

“Happy Birthday, Perry the Platypus!”

With any luck, this time he won’t ask him to come tomorrow, or the next day after that one.

That could be his birthday gift. A way out.

184.

He has no will.

It’s half past ten and Perry doesn’t even want to get up from the bed.

But he has to go. He has to go.

Who else but him will read his notes? Who else will spend time with his hologram?

Heinz can't be alone. He can't be alone, Perry doesn't want him to be alone.

He can't be selfish right now. He’s gotta see the end of the notes. Just the end, only until he hears everything Heinz has left to say.

And then, he'll go to him.

Finally, together after all.

222.5.

Perry’s claws tighten around the pile he’s formed with the lab coat, the fabric wrinkling under his grip.

“Does it feel good?” the hologram asks, its voice low and almost teasing.

It does feel good. Perry is completely unsheathed, mast-full cock hard and leaking as he grinds desperately against the soft fabric draped around him. 

“It feels good for me, thinking about your tail, Perry the Platypus.” The rubbery spines of his erection catch in the weaving of the clothes, pulling particularly nicely at his shortest head. He has to repress a growl.

“How you would use it to keep me locked. Scheiße, mein Gehirn schmilzt. Oh, I should ask you to use your spurs.”

Perry groans and his breath falters. His paws rake into the soft material as he hugs it closer, hips jumping on time with the soaring of his blood. The muscles of his navel are thrumming, the heat is pooling beneath his fur until it burns. Nevertheless, he keeps the tips of his feet firmly planted on the cushions of the couch, even if his ankle barbs stand erect at Hein’s demand, pulsing, begging to be used on his willing mate.

He is losing his mind, but he can't. Even back then he rarely allowed himself to lose it like that, for fear of really hurting his husband.

“Come on, use them. You know I love it.”

He does. He did. A strangled sound escapes Perry at this, at the vivid image of Heinz's face full of ecstasy, at the tremble of Heinz’s body coming as the spikes prickle his skin, stinging venom entering him.

But he can't.

He doesn't want to use his barbs. He doesn't want to destroy one of the last lab coats he used.

“Please, schatz. Please, please, please…” The breathing on his recording gets erratic. ‘Heinz’ picks up the pace, moves his hand faster, opens his legs with no decorum. Perry salivates at the sight of his whole body presented to him without shame. “You can't hold to them forever”

That does it for him.

He can’t resist him anymore. With a grizzle he's clutching the coat with his feet, whimpering as he buries his bill into the lapels, inhaling deeply, taking in the smell of Heinz. The scent is faint by now, barely there, but it’s enough to send a wave of longing crashing over him.

The force of Perry’s spurs finally tear through the fabric, the sound of ripping clothes fills the room as he comes. His tail wraps under the coat, pulling it closer as his body stiffens, eyes blurring with every pump of his dick in an orgasm so intense that the aftershocks make his cloaca rattle and pulse. He can feel it all the way to his testes.

“Oh...” The hologram moans weakly, spasming while he looks at Perry full of awe and adoration, finishing himself off. Perry thinks for a moment that it’s him. Here, with him. His eyes, his smile, his love.

“You are...” Heinz sighs, “So fantastic. Thank you for that Perry.”

Laughter bubbles from within him. Even now, Heinz manages to make him laugh.

Perry’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his grip on the lab coat loosening slightly. He moves it from his body to examine the damage. It’s split in twin, vertical lines adorning the back now. It’s wet and sticky with a mix of his discharge, spunk and venom alike.

Hologram Heinz laughs, unexpectedly bashful. It turns around to lie on his plump belly completely relaxed. “Recording this was weird. But if you are seeing this, then I'm glad you let me help you.”

Perry reaches out. He has forgotten once again that this is not Heinz.

His paw passes through the hologram’s arm, and the familiar cold of metal and synthetic skin is not there. Just the cold of emptiness.

“I wish that I could hold you. That you could hold me.” The image freezes as the recording ends.

Perry curls upon himself. His softening prick retreating inside of him. The tension on his ankles ease.

There's a pang of pain that stabs him as the absence of a body to curl up with is more evident than ever. 

It doesn't erase the dopey grin that he can feel splitting his bill, though, when he turns to lie next to a smiling Heinz.

There’s no use feeling sad over it, so Perry chippers with glee, and he cries, cries, cries…

It’s as happy an anniversary as they can get.

232.

“I think it's beautiful you got to experience it.” Norm tells him over tea, “and I think I am glad he was my first, too.” 

Perry sends him a confused look. Norm takes a “bite” of his muffin and cleans the crumbs with a napkin.

“I'll live a thousand years,” he finally follows up, “or as long as I can find more squirrels.”

“I'll have to see many die, all the time. I'll lose you and I'll lose my sister, and I could not have imagined it before, but now I know. How it will be. How it will feel.”

Ah. 

“Looking at you, Perry, I know that it will hurt but I will live. That I am allowed to live and that I am allowed to be happy again. That I can always remember whenever it's time to miss.”

Perry puts his paw over Norm's hand. It's cold. It will always be cold on its own, but he is a wonderful thing. He will find company. Perry hopes that he finds someone—many someones, in the future, a hundred years from now— that can find as much comfort in the cold, metallic tact of his robot hands as he feels now—as he felt with Heinz—and that the heat of someone else can bring Norm comfort too.

Norm is such a wonderful thing.

Which is why Perry can’t bring himself to explain that he is barely holding by.

270.

Ferb’s told him time and time again to take it one day at a time.

Perry thinks that that’s absurd. What use is just one day? One day is already too long. Today is too much and it’s barely noon.

He would rather take it in hours, or better yet seconds. Small, chewable, miserably digestible moments. The kind Heinz used to fill for him. 

Or not at all. Not at all would be ideal.

Not taking it at all would work best for him. 

At least blinking makes the time bearable. Every time he blinks he gets a flash of wrinkled hands, the hallucination of his cooking dancing on his tongue, a faint memory of that noise Heinz made when he’d misstep on a tile in the middle of the night on his way to the bathroom.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the blinking part. Not even to Ferb.

300.

Hello, Perry the Platypus.

You might be wondering why the apron.

Well you see, today you are out helping set up the meatloaf festival, and I know I told you I wasn't going to enter again but I lied.

You can’t fault me for this one! I'm a great cook, Perry the Platypus, and I mean that objectively. With my Peach-Cobbler winning first place on the spring festival I realized this is the last ribbon I need to to be the uncontested best cook in the entire Tri-State Area!

I know for a fact that I'm gonna win. Guaranteed Victory. 

No it’s not cheating, it's not my fault that your family loves my meatloaf. It’s not cheating, really! If they weren’t the judges this year, then I’m sure that anyone with taste would have given me the win.

See? I'm thinking about you while cooking. I think I still hate you a little bit. But it's cute. Like the mains of The Platypus and His Girlfriend, and so far whatever this is has worked amazingly for my seasoning. Any time I make my great-grandmother’s recipes I just picture you and so far they’ve turned out great.

Oh! I think I heard your car landing.

Do you think you will be mad? I hope not. And if you are, you better not stop me. It's not cheating, Perry the platypus, I’ve already told you!

If I don't have that crown on my shelf by the end of the day someday you'll be craving my meatloaf, and I won't make it for you as revenge.

388.

Linda and Lawrence dance together, slowly swaying side to side to a beat that by this point has become a staple for their love, universally known between Love Händel fans as the 80s pop-stars falling in love anthem. What a name. 

Regardless of the song, all that he can think about is that they belong together. A logical conclusion, considering that it’s their anniversary.

He is happy for them. They deserve it, after not celebrating last year. He still feels a bit guilty for that, even if they insist it was their idea to skip the big celebration last year, in light of the recent loss.

The music comes to an end. Everyone cheers when they kiss, further proof that the world agrees with him on the matters of how well they fit.

He can’t help but wonder if they did hear the song at all, or if they were immersed in their own world.

Back when he and Heinz used to dance, they’d always do it at an entirely different rhythm, to a beat only the two of them could hear.

They looked good dancing together. It felt good to dance with him.

He does query if the people looked at them, as well, and with nothing but a glance realized how deep their love was. If they looked like they belonged.

He likes to think they did. 

482.

Do you remember that time I gave myself a midlife crisis? The one thing I really liked was jumping off the plane.

I know I know, you think I mean everything about that—even the flirting with the instructor, but again, sorry about that—but no. I don’t even mean the free fall.

I mean the part after I lost the golden chain. The wind, the open sky and slowly falling down, together with you.

It reminded me of when I was sailing away from Drusselstein for the first time.

I used to stare into the distance after cleaning the deck, you see, and I would imagine that I could jump at any moment and just float away; except that day we were floating down and not away, and what actually happened is that I fell a little harder for you, because ever since then I have felt like I am floating whenever I am with you.

In short, I am happy that we landed, and I am happy to have shared a predictable boring life with you.

536.

Today is cloudy and not very sunny, and it makes him unbelievably happy.

Heinz would’ve loved it like this.

They could’ve packed a basket with dates and bread, peanut butter and honey. Head out and have a walk at the park before settling down somewhere far away from noisy families.

Heinz would have gone into a rant about the cold (hot?) unforgiving sun, always burning his delicate skin, how he missed out on so much because of it, picnics, long walks along the beach, so much money lost on sunscreen. He’d get distracted with the way the breeze would blow on them, going on a tangent about how it reminded him of his rare peaceful days in Gimmelshtump just as Perry passed him a slice of bread with honey. He would have tried to feed Perry some cheese, which he would have playfully refused.

A fight would have ensued.

Not like the old ones, no. A funny one. A teasing one, one of those that end with laughter and a kiss, and a oh so sweet taste in his mouth that would have had little to nothing to do with the food.

Eventually they would have needed to shake off the ants that would inevitably climb his lanky partner.

A futile endeavour, for which they would have been forced to go back home so Perry could treat the bites with cream and little kisses, where he could have shamelessly caressed the underside of his bill along the joints where his metal arms fused to his body, right where the signals from his bionic arms mixed with the steady rhythm of his heart in a pattern that lit the electroreceptors on his bill in that sublime pattern so uniquely Heinz, where Perry could have shown him just how much…

God, he misses him so much.

It’s a weird feeling. A mix of joy and sorrow that he still quite can’t process.

It feels like he wants to die, but he can't. He can't.

That would be very selfish of him.

Someone has to remember Heinz.

He wants to keep remembering Heinz.

618.

I am so sorry Perry the Platypus. 

I know you must be tired of this.

But just like I have said before, it was a trap.

I know I have said it before, der übernächste wird der letzte sein.

730.

Miss you, he'd written back then.

It was incredibly cathartic at the time. To use his hands. To think of Heinz, to channel all his might and regret and heartbreak into the swoops of the M and the curves of the S and the Y and the U.

He thinks it might help again, even if this time there's nobody to deliver it to.

Miss you, he writes, and he can almost see his eyes perking up, the wrinkles in his soft skin.

Miss you, he writes, and he can almost feel like he is hugging Heinz.

Miss you, he writes, and he can't quite evoke the right colour of his hair.

He leaves them at his tomb, with a vase of assorted flowers. Vanessa tells him it looks beautiful and he's back to mourning all over again.

810.

He moves back to DEI.

Nobody objects. By now, he has learnt to smile again, to laugh and enjoy. To function with the luggage of a phantom pain.

But he is not doing it because he is ready.

He is doing it because he’s started to forget.

Because he can’t remember how big his hands were. He needs a photo to remember his face. He closes his eyes and he can't picture the right gray of his hair anymore, and every time something like that happens the mourning starts all over again. 

Still, he lives, lives, lives.

It doesn’t mean that he is alive.

925.

Some days I couldn't sleep, you know? Of course you know, but I mean, you don't know what I'd be doing for so long, before falling asleep.

Well, I do want to tell you. Most of the time I would think about what we could have done differently.

Things like “Could I have proposed sooner?” but then I'd go, “Ah, but I do love how he proposed. Can't even think of a more perfect way.”

Or maybe, how you could have moved in sooner. But then, your boys wouldn't have had so much fun with you before moving away.

Things like asking you to retire earlier, or asking you to dance with me from the get go every new year’s eve.

But then I'd look at you, so cute, so handsome right there, sleeping besides me, and I knew I would change anything. We were right where we were meant to be.

I don't regret anything.

You make me very happy, and I wouldn't change a single thing about us. Even this. Know that I loved you until the very end.

That I love you until this day.

That the note after the next one will say the same.

985.

Today is the first day that Perry wakes up without the impulse to hear his voice and see his frame.

There is no compulsion to rush and see what Heinz could have left for him, no sick need to play pretend and ignore the fact that he is dead. 

Today he could survive the fall, the loneliness and the permanent void that he will carry with him for however long he still has.

There is no need. But he does so anyway.

Because he wants to.

1,071.

I always knew you were the stronger one. You carried us both, so many times. It might be silly but this whole thing was my way of trying to carry you, just once. To stay with you for a little longer.

I would have followed you, if it was the other way around. Which is why I  might have been a bit paranoid and why I left so many notes. I needed to be sure that you wouldn’t.

And now I am. If you're hearing this one, it means you made it further than I dared to hope. 

So today is the last one.

Thank you, Perry the Platypus. You won’t get a message tomorrow, or the day after that. This time it’s for real.

Bis zum nächsten Leben, baby. I'll see you then. Please let me love you again.

1,073.

At seven o'clock sharp Perry makes himself a cup of tea before going to sleep.

The projectors didn’t have a message. It’s the second day in a row.

1,074.

Perry the Platypus passed away in his sleep at thirty years and six months of age.

Norm finds him in the evening, clinging to an old black turtleneck.

If it’s from natural causes or not, his people won’t know. They don’t need to know.

What they know is this: He was loved. He will be missed.

He has finally reunited with the love of his life.

[bamjammy]

More UT Tenna. Made a proper/more detailed ref for him. I’ve pretty much figured out his story at this point so that’ll be under the cut. Please forgive me if it’s stupid or bad

Back when Toriel and Asgore were getting ready to have a kid, the royal scientist at the time decided to create a sort of assistant, using a TV fallen from the surface as a base. However, as the robotic body comes together, the machine seems to take on a life of its own. It doesn’t have a soul, it’s just a TV after all, but it comes to life in a way no one could’ve expected, and honestly wasn’t intended.

The idea behind this is essentially that his darkner self was able to sort of manifest when he was given a body and renewed purpose. That is assuming that Undertale and Deltarune take place in parallel universes, my interpretation so far has been that Undertale is sort of an alternate universe to Deltarune where monsters lost the war, and because of that the prophecy from Deltarune changes or goes unfulfilled. Something complicated like that.

While initially intended to fulfill a variety of purposes, he ends up spending most of his time babysitting and caring for the kids, especially after Chara becomes part of the family. The kids enjoy his company, viewing him as sort of a fun uncle, an odd extension of their family. Most others see him as more of an object for entertainment. A toy.

When Asriel/Chara “died”, everything became pretty chaotic in such a short amount of time. When he found out what had happened, he was horrified. Being an object that reminded Asgore of what happened (and honestly, only ever seemed to get in the way after they were gone) he was deemed no longer useful and thrown to the dump. He was never able to fully stop blaming himself for what happened, in a way he sort of thought “I deserve this”, believing he should’ve done something to save them. But he couldn’t.

He’s gone a little crazy living in the trash. He deliberately hides from people and has a difficult time moving. He doesn’t really know how to interact with people anymore. When Frisk passes through years later, he’s not really sure what to do, he’s sort of… lost his purpose.

That’s kind of all I have for now. Thanks

[mino-the-suneater]

I played all of Pokemon Sun and Moon recently going through this story for the first time since like 2017 I think and I had some thoughts.

Throughout the game, there's this emphasis on community and culture with how the Island challenge isn't just some optional thing but rather a societal thing that all children go through as a right of passage.

Team Skull are the children who FAILED the island challenge and were unable to meet societal expectations, a home for those rejected by their people. I like how even the grunts show personality at times like the two girls talking about their tank tops or the guy who just goes "Yeah I ain't fighting you, I know my place."

Guzma is their leader and unlike other team leaders, the respect he commands isn't out of fear but rather out of a genuine affection that this community he formed has for him because he gave them a place when no one else did. He has this need to be seen as strong which is also interesting because he specialises in Bug-types which are usually the weakest type, and his ace is Golisopod, a Pokemon with the ability to run away if it takes too much damage.

Despite this Guzma wants to be respected, an ideal which causes him to follow Lusamine, the first person to ever see him as "Strong" in any way, into a completely unknown dimension. Its the affects of a sort-of-parental figure treating him in a positive way and that deeply moves him.

Speaking of Lusamine, she's my personal favourite Pokemon antagonist because of the several layers that her character has.

A woman who lost her husband in a wormhole accident causing her to go insane and obsess over ways to get him back even if it means torturing a Pokemon. Then her two kids steal both said Pokemon and another one designed specifically to destroy the alien-like Pokemon that came from the wormhole

My favourite detail is that Nihilego, the Ultra Beast that Lusamine is so obsessed with, looks very similar in design to Lillie. Meaning either Lusamine, even after disowning her daughter, became obsessed with a creature that looked exactly like her, OR she made sure that Lillie always resembled Nihilego (I believe the 2nd one because it adds to how Lusamine's controlling nature towards her children resembles Nihilego's described ability to mind-control people.)

Also I like how the name "Nihilego" consists of "Nihil" meaning "Nothing" and ego which when combined makes it sound like a being with no personality or "Ego" to get in the way of Lusamine's control unlike how her own children chose to not listen and instead run away.

Of Lusamine's children I've always really liked Gladion. His tough-guy persona isn't him trying to hide any emotions, rather its him taking everything dead-seriously and showing a need to get stronger to make sure he never has to run away again and can protect those he cares about.

I've seen a lot of people complain over the years about how unlike the earlier games, modern games don't give us proper full-blown evil rivals like Blue or Silver, but these games contrast that by giving the protagonist a proper friend-group. In Sun and Moon, Hau as a rival may seem too upbeat and annoying at times to some people (Not me) but he also perfectly balances out Gladion's "I need to take everything seriously" persona by being more relaxed and optimistic.

Also another detail I like is that when Type:Null evolves, Gladion names it "Silvally" with the "Ally" part showing that Gladion doesn't see this creature as some robotic killer designed for a purpose but rather his partner that he wants to fight alongside

Then there's Lillie, who in her own way, is just as much the protagonist of Sun and Moon as you the player. She starts the story as this scared runaway living with her adopted parents while trying to harbor a being with godlike potential in her bag. She's your very first friend and goes through a very powerful journey of her own, learning to express in her own ways and getting over her fear of Pokemon battles.

The story of Sun and Moon doesn't end when you beat the Champion like gens1-4, and it doesn't end when you beat the evil team like in gen 5, rather it keeps going as you are thrown a festival in Melemele Island with all the characters present. You and Lillie return to the bridge where you to met and finally go past it, catching Tapu Koko in the process.

The last proper scene is a goodbye to Lillie, with her heading to Kanto, the same region that its implied the protagonist from, and the same region that Professor Kukui once went to. The same way you truly started your journey in Alola, her's will start in Kanto.

I found it interesting that when Nebby evolves into Solgaleo/Lunala and doesn't want to go away, she doesn't say that "Oh you want to stay with me?" rather she says "Us" as she believes you, the protagonist, to be just as important to Nebby as she is. Her story isn't one of someone learning to be kind, but rather someone choosing to be kind in SPITE of everything she's endured. Despite the abuse, and despite the rejection from her mother, she still chooses to walk alongside you into Ultra Space just to scold her, and when Lusamine is weak and beaten after being separated from Nihilego, she still chooses to be kind, wanted to get stronger not only so she can fight her own battles, but also so she can help her mother.

Anyway yeah thats a lot of the thoughts I had, not all of them I'll prolly eventually think of stuff to say about other characters like Kukui and stuff like Z-Crystals and what they might mean but for now I wanna think about other stuff.

I'll prolly yap about Alola more when I play Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon and finish out all of the 3DS games, having played XY, ORAS, and SM in the past year.

[mystwri18]

LADS- DRINKING SESSION 101

tw: cursing, headcanon (might be mischaracterized)

Characters: all LIs (all have different mcs)

summary:

What happens when LIs are drunk + trauma bonding (satire):

Sylus: i could sing

Rafayel: ashivalakalakalaboom boom boom

Sylus: what does that mean?

Rafayel: It means "screw you, sylus. Not today"

Xavier: well.. someone's sassy today.

Rafayel: hmph, do you want him to drill your eardrums?

Sylus: my men told me I could sing

Zayne: that's what Xavier's admittance to his cooking

Xavier: what are you implying—

Caleb(smiling): OKAY, GUYS... CALM DOWN. be nice for at least tonight, okay?

Sylus: fine, I wont. But I'm starting the discussion

Zayne: be our guest

--------

In the middle of the drinking session, all of them are not sober:

Sylus: mmm...did you know she forgot everything about me?

Zayne: i think she did in every universe...

Rafayel: right? Were fcking screwed up! Years of waiting then poof!  Who are you?

Rafayel (started crying) : like I'm just a man, you know? 

Caleb (relapsing): not only she forgot, but you gotta live your own fcking life reminiscing the memories she never remembered

Rafayel: right?! Right! I cant believe i showed her a fish! A red fish! My fishie... she forgot...

Sylus: I can't believe I have to strap her just to know she forgot ...

Caleb: you strapped her? same! she literally infiltrated my fleet.

Sylus: she infiltrated the nest to find me. that fish over there helped her.

Rafayel (staring at the small gold fish in the aquarium): poor fish... You're forgotten like me too?

Sylus: do you have any experiences Caleb?

Caleb (reminiscing post-war flashback): I exploded. heh.

Sylus: oh.

Xavier: zayne also self destructs...well, internally

Zayne: let's include Rafayel. He's still crying at the corner Rafayel (in the middle of breakdown): AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Xavier (stands up): wait, let me get him...

Sylus (drinks entire bottle): I can't believe she forgot I took her out of the laboratory.

Caleb (on relapse, crying): RIGHT?! like do you know every time mc sees me she barely remember our childhood?! 

Zayne (mentally remembers he accidentally freeze mc): ...

Caleb: then now she remembers, my fcking toring chip will remove my memories!

Caleb: I can't AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Zayne: not you too?

Caleb: fck i didn't use my mental health for this memory alteration sht.

Xavier (returns with rafayel): ... I cant believe i have to leave soon

Zayne:mmm... I know the feeling... They're calling me. 

Xavier: your girlfriend?

Zayne: no my creator who did nothing but haunt me

Xavier: i get you... Fathers will always obligate their child

Zayne:... Right...? Cheers?

Xavier: cheers (drinks from bottle)

Rafayel (slams table): fck every human! Its all their fault!

Sylus (slams table): right. They are all selfish creatures. Cheers.

Rafayel: yes yes, mah men! fck humans. cheers men.

Caleb: what did we even do?!

Rafayel: shut up. You're a robot.

Caleb: my hands are just the robot part, fish brain

Rafayel: gasps... See? See?! They have sassy annoying attitude too

Sylus: ...bruh, look in the mirror?

Rafayel: excuse you? uncheers

Xavier (wobbly stands up, already drunk): screw philos! Philos should buuurn!

Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus: hell yes!/yeah.

Caleb: what?

Zayne: when your wife was always targeted cuz she's sick in every universe.

Rafayel: when your bride killed herself just to save everyone.

Xavier: when your partner was the chosen sacrifice. Then you return she's dead.

Rafayel: hell yeah! She became a royal blood for planet food, cheers bruh.

Sylus: when your other soul was groomed to kill you. Fucking insane

Xavier: stupid planet. why sustain when you can't provide?

Rafayel (slams bottle on table): exactly! you're so smart!

Zayne: Cheers?

Xavier, Sylus, Rafayel: cheers.

Caleb: umm...how about you, Sylus?

Sylus: i was supposed to kill her but I forced her to kill me

Zayne: mm...I sacrificed myself and now she's looking for the ghost of me

Sylus: cheers?

Zayne: cheers (both drinks from their glass)

Rafayel: wtf?! I should've done that sacrifice thingy..oh wait, I did

Caleb: how?

Rafayel: made sure she escaped before my instincts kills her. I was sent into prison for thousands of years

Caleb: same, I was locked up in a cell thinking I'm alone but the mirror is one-way. she could see me.

Rafayel: did she die?

Caleb: yeah, she's that insane to even jump on a spaceship to explode with me

Rafayel: wow. 

Xavier: fireworks are also nice.

Caleb: right? Good thing it never happened again the 2nd time

Xavier: so how many times did you explode?

Caleb (having war flashbacks, looks at Rafayel): ..... cheers?

Rafayel: cheers!

Xavier:... he ignored me....sad.

Then morning came and all of them knocked-off, sleeping at Sylus' karaoke room.

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Another beast for you all… and as usual, these posts will be going about the design process!

I wanted to lean into the idea of the Robodon being the original/precursor to the Radidon which followed some personal headcanons of mine about the two. Below you can see some reference photos which sort of leak Rad’s design…

Immediately I started with “robo-ifying” the Radidion the best I could; as in I wanted to keep a lot of its design qualities consistent with its robot counterpart. I won’t say too much on how I’ll tackle the Radidion. I tried to give it an organic and clunky feel as if it was the first iteration of the “robodon” and is more like (compared to the other robo dragons) a heavy piece of machinery rather than some streamlined vehicle just for show. So basically, it’s a working dragon. Though, this first sketch felt too organic to me, not unique enough to really stand out.

After I solidified the head shape of the dragon is when the ideas really started to flow for me and I continued to follow the blocky but subtly “living” shapes. I really wanted to continue the thin and skeleton-like limbs the original design sort of portrays but for my idea to really come across I had to unfortunately scrap that for more bulkier and awkward limbs.

As the design was finalized, Robodon really stood out as a “heavy equipment” dragon to me. I took lots of inspiration from work since I work pretty closely with this kind of stuff. I might’ve put a bit much mechanical in this guy but as my first robot design I’m pretty excited to see how he’ll look in 3d. I tried to follow more truthful depictions of radiation/nuclear stuff with blue accents but this stuff will be sort of more obvious in the Radidon’s design.

[mim16s]

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

Materialist

Part 4

Hi everyone! I’m back! This series will probably wrap up in two more chapters, and I’ll try to post them this week, so keep an eye on my profile so you don’t miss anything.

Leave your comments about the chapters! I love reading every single one — they’re what keep me motivated to keep going. Without your comments, I don’t know if you’re enjoying it or if you want me to continue, so please let me know what you think! 💙✨

_____

You woke up the next day in Hyunju’s arms, your head resting on her chest, listening to the rhythmic beats of her heart, the same heart that had lulled you to sleep last night along with the way she caressed your hair. The sound was constant, steady, each beat the same as the next, almost like counting steps or frames on the wall — that had always calmed you down.

— Hey, how are you today? Do you feel better? — she asked sweetly when she felt you move. Her voice was softer than her heartbeat but still made you want to stay right where you were. You just nodded in agreement, unable to say out loud that everything still hurt — not just your body.

— Well, we need to get up, the game will start soon. Her words brought you back to the harsh reality that there was still more to come. You got up slowly, almost mechanically, feeling the clothes brush against your sensitive skin and, when you sat up, you hissed in pain, the sound escaping before you could hold it back. You saw Hyunju sit up too, fast — her worry was so strong it felt like it pierced through your skin.

— What happened? Where does it hurt?

— My stomach. — you said, your voice weak and hoarse, still raw from last night’s crying. The memories hit and receded like waves.

— Can I? — she asked, holding the hem of your shirt. You murmured a barely audible “yes,” and she lifted it, revealing bruises forming from the beating by yesterday’s pair.

— Shit, this doesn’t look good — she murmured. — You can still play, right? — she asked, looking at you, worried.

— I can.

— Great. Now you climbed the stairs that felt almost endless, each step creaking the same but never quite the same enough, and now that perception was heightened by the pain intensifying with every step. Hyunju walked behind you, each of her steps a reminder that you weren’t alone, even when your mind insisted you were. You could feel she was thinking about something — it was clear in how careful her steps were. She thought maybe, if she’d voted to leave, none of this would have happened. Of course, that wasn’t true, she knew that, repeated it in her mind: “It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault,” as if that would erase the thought. But in that moment she wasn’t thinking logically — she was just too worried about you, and you understood because your mind wouldn’t stop either.

Then the curtains opened, revealing the game area, and the robotic voice spoke:

— Players, welcome to the third game. We will begin momentarily. The game you will be playing today is Migle.

You looked around, seeing the colorful doors and the cute bow drawings on the walls, and a rotating platform with a carousel. Normally, this kind of place would catch your eye — you’d wonder how did they paint that? How did they make the lines so smooth? How many layers of paint? You liked to touch, feel the texture, see if the color stuck to your fingers. But your mind was so full you could barely think straight, though one thing was clear: God, how you missed painting and drawing, when it was all just paint and paper, nothing else. Then you looked to the side and Hyunju was there, so alive, so real, and part of you wanted to eternalize her beauty on a canvas, freeze it so you’d never forget.

— I will now explain the rules of the game. All players will step onto the platform in the center of the arena. Once the game begins, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches this number, enter one of the surrounding rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds, or be eliminated.

— Okay, I know this one — Geum-ja said.

— Uh, what do we need to do? Is there a strategy? What’s the plan?

— If the number is four, we’re good — you said, your chest tightening just saying it.

— If it’s two, you come with me — Hyunju replied.

— If it’s bigger, in that case, we’ll figure it out as we go. Trust each other. Then everyone joined hands.

— We got this!

— With that, let the game begin — the voice spoke again. The children’s song started playing. You began counting the beats, trying to anchor yourself. Just as it started, the music suddenly stopped and the number was announced:

— Ten players. The voice announced and panic immediately set in — everyone shouting numbers, voices overlapping, everything so loud, too high, too sharp. Your head started buzzing, a buzz that felt like it was inside your skull. You shook your head, closed your eyes, breathed. Counting helped. Counting always helped.

— How many are with you? — you saw the player who warned everyone in the first game, player 456, ask Hyunju.

— There’s four — she replied.

— So, that would get us to nine — 390 said.

— You said you have five? We’re five, that makes ten. Here, come with us — another player jumped in, trying to pull the group, voices getting faster and faster, and you felt your body shutting down, like you were just watching everything happen.

— We’re running out of time. We need to go, Gi-hun — 001 said.

— We need one more! — Hyunju shouted and saw the shaman in the distance running toward her.

— Now we have ten! — And then everyone ran to the room. When you entered, you noticed a timer counting down — you fixated on the numbers because numbers made sense when nothing else did. You made it with 2 seconds left. When the countdown hit zero, the door locked itself. You were on autopilot, just going along, swallowed by everyone’s panic.

Then desperate voices outside caught everyone’s attention:

— Don’t shoot. And right after, the sounds of gunshots. You covered your ears — the sound cut through your body like a knife. No matter how many times you heard it, it was always too loud to bear. Hyunju was beside you, she put her hands over yours, muffling the noise. Her touch was firm, warm. You opened your eyes to look at her and it grounded you again, even if just for a second.

— Every person here owes me their lives! — you heard the shaman say, her voice muffled by the hands. She gave creepy looks to some and then walked up to 426.

— You’ve lived longer than you were ever meant to, and now I finally see why. You’re here for a reason. You were drawn by destiny.

— Six players. You looked at Hyunju — the air felt heavier than concrete. Hyunju tried to smile at you, as if that could scare away the fear burning inside. The group was divided.

— Falta pouco — Hyunju whispered, trying to sound confident. Everyone ran to find an empty room, but when you entered, you looked to the side where Hyunju should have been — and didn’t see her. The air vanished from your lungs. For a second everything blurred, the sound muffled, like the world was underwater. Suddenly, player 333 entered, closing the door behind him, the dry click of the doorknob echoing like a gunshot.

— No, no! Where is Hyunju? She should be here! — The panic tore through your throat. You stumbled to the door, your fingers trembling, seeing her collapsed on the floor on the other side — so close yet so out of reach.

— Hyunju!! You pressed your hand to the doorknob, squeezed, tried to turn it hard, angrily, but arms pulled you back.

— There’s no time, it’ll run out, if you go out everyone dies — someone said, but it was like they spoke inside a storm. Everything was noise. Your vision flickered, the walls seemed to move.

— No, no, no… she has to get in, she can’t… she can’t stay… — The words died on your tongue, swallowed by sobs that started to burn. The countdown hit zero — click — and the door locked in your face like a sentence. You ran to the door again, hands banging on the metal, searching for a gap, any crack, any slit, your chest burning from so much air that wouldn’t come in right. The beating of your heart felt like punches inside your ribs. When they tried to pull you back again, you struggled, the tears blurring everything.

— Honey, calm down, breathe — it was Geum-ja’s voice, but it seemed so far away. Her arms around you were a shelter you couldn’t feel. Your head kept repeating “Hyunju, Hyunju, Hyunju” like a needle scratching an old record. You couldn’t hear anything else, only that. You raised your head, your breath failing, your eyes burned like fire. Player 333’s face appeared in front of you, and all the guilt, all the fear turned into a strangled scream:

— It’s your fault! If you hadn’t come in, Hyunju would be here! — Your voice cracked at the end, your whole body trembling like it would break apart right there.

— If I hadn’t come in, all of you would be dead for missing one person. She wouldn’t have made it in time — he said, but the words ricocheted, meaningless, powerless.

— She would have! — you screamed, choking on a sob that tore through your throat. — She would have… she would have… The next minutes turned into a blur — a fog where everything existed except you. When the door opened, Geum-ja and her son pulled you out, but you didn’t even feel their touch. Your body moved on its own, unstable steps, your chest rising and falling like you were sinking. In your mind, the scratched record spun endlessly: Hyunju can’t have died, no, no, no. You looked around, eyes wide, blurred by tears, desperately searching for a glimpse of her — a movement, a sign, anything to say she was still breathing. But there was nothing. Each second without seeing her was like a knife digging deeper, and a part of you, weak, traitorous, began to whisper: what if she didn’t make it? What if she didn’t have the strength? You wanted to scream to shut that voice up, wanted to hit yourself until nothing was left. Hyunju was strong. She had to be. She made it. Of course she made it. You repeated that over and over — even when you felt your legs giving out, your heart hammering so loud it almost drowned out the sound of the children’s song. And still, inside you, the edge of collapse came closer, like a black wave about to swallow everything.

— Two players. People ran desperately, grabbing onto each other, but you stayed still. Your mind was on a loop — you needed Hyunju, not just as support now, but because you needed to know she was there. Suddenly, you felt a squeeze on your hand and were pulled — when you looked, you saw Hyunju’s familiar hair. Your heart beat so hard it hurt. When the door closed behind you two, you couldn’t hold back — you jumped on her, hugging her tight, almost crushing her. You felt her body tense in surprise and then relax, her arms wrapping around you again. You felt tears run down, the fear of losing her dissolving now that she was there.

— You’re okay — you said, your voice slightly trembling.

— And so are you, my God, what a relief — she said, hugging you even tighter. You both knelt on the floor, still hugging. You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

— I didn’t see you, and I could only think the worst... I know you’re strong, but I was so scared and... — you started rambling, your head full of overlapping thoughts, but she held your face, her touch calm, steady, bringing you back.

— Honey, it’s okay, calm down. I’m right here, we’re okay — she said, and you sighed, feeling your chest loosen. For a few seconds, it felt like it was just the two of you — the rest, the chaos behind the door, didn’t exist. You felt those butterflies in your stomach you always heard about at school when the girls fell in love, but you’d never felt it like this, so real. Then, in that moment, between the warmth of her body and the muffled sound of footsteps outside, you realized: you were in love with Hyunju. It was like everything that kept you standing was there, in her arms, in her eyes, in that breathless smile mixed with exhaustion. Your chest tightened, your throat burned, but it wasn’t from fear anymore — it was from urgency, from wanting to hold onto it so tight the world outside couldn’t take it away. You took a deep breath, trying to contain the sob that threatened to come with the words that escaped, trembling:

— C-can I… can I kiss you? You saw the surprise in her eyes before a smile spread, so beautiful it almost made you cry again.

— Of course — she said, her voice low but firm, like a promise. You both leaned in slowly, as if time wanted to savor every second before the touch. When your lips finally met, it was like everything that hurt fell silent for a moment. It was tender, slow, a little shaky, but filled with a certainty that burned in your chest. You felt her hand tremble a little as it held the back of your neck, as if she feared you’d disappear. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was enough to mark your skin that you were still there, alive, together — against everything that tried to tear you apart. When you pulled away, you noticed her face red, her eyes shining as if they held an entire ocean of unspoken things. And you knew yours looked the same. Hyunju pulled you back to her chest again, her arms tight as if she wanted to fuse you to her. You clung to her with all your strength, feeling every beat of her heart pounding against your ear. It was real. It was now. Even if the world fell apart outside, you had that. She murmured, in a whisper almost inaudible, like a spell she repeated so she wouldn’t let you go:

— I’m here. I promise. I’ll stay here. You buried your face in her neck, breathing in her scent, her warm skin, the life pulsing. Outside, screams, gunshots, orders — none of that mattered. For a second, for a breath of eternity, you were safe in each other. And even if it was just for now, it was all you needed. Because there, in her arms, you knew: if it was to survive, it was with her. If it was to love, it was her.

[druidfolk]

commissions open!!!

hey yall!! i'm opening up commissions for a bit because my wife and i are buying a house!! i started a new job right at the same time we began the homebuying process so money's been a little tight for me and i haven't been able to contribute much besides emotional support lol.

unlimited slots as i get a feel for how much i can handle

payment accepted thru paypal, cashapp, and venmo. 25% refundable deposit required to start your commission, the rest is paid once you approve the sketch.

first come, first serve. i may close commissions at any time and when i do this post will be updated. progress will be tracked through trello (link TBA)

please DM me with the type of commission you are wanting along with a reference of your character(s)

all info under the cut. please share to extend reach! :) even if you can't/won't buy one, you can support me by putting this post on others' dashes <3

prices

sketches (cleaned up sketch, no lineart, monochrome color palette)

shoulders-up: $25

waist-up: $45

fullbody: $65

lined (clean lineart, monochrome or flat colors)

shoulders-up: $35

waist-up: $55

fullbody: $75

full color (flat colors plus rendering)

shoulders-up: $55

waist-up: $75

fullbody: $95

multiple characters/extras

couples: +75% of base price for 2 characters, +50% for each additional character

NSFW: +25% of base price (including couple upcharge if piece has 2+ characters)

if there's something you're wanting that you don't see on this sheet please ask!

rules

what i will draw:

human/humanoid OCs

furry/feral OCs, mammals only

couples/ships

NSFW (must be verifiably 18+)

what i wont draw:

mech/robots

pedophilia

feral NSFW

complicated backgrounds

examples coming soon, for now please reference my art tag, #my art :)

[casstratophizing]

Let me make myself clear, Scott Summers is a fuck up. 

He is someone who walked out on his wife and kid to go see their equivalent of a highschool crush after one call. He is someone who cheated on his wife with another woman, he is someone who killed his parental figure whilst under the influence of a cosmic entity. Those mistakes and moments of weakness will forever define him more than any heroic act,  good decision or life saving order he gives. Scott Summers is a man who defines himself more by what he isn’t than what he is. 

Scott was burdened by responsibility since a very young age, after the plane accident that let him and his brother freefalling into the woods, his responsibility as a protector was so present he made sure Alex, his brother, would land safely even if that caused him to suffer brain damage that affected him through the rest of his life, making him unable to control his eye beams, and yet, if you ask him if he would go back an change that, he would say no. The burden of protection and responsibility is as natural to Scott as breathing; An instinct that remained within him throughout his life even long after he and his brother were separated when they went to different orphanages. Scott who has been haunted by a mad man obsessed with him since a young age was sent to an orphanage where he was experimented on and tortured as well as ostracized and shamed and yet when he awoke his mutant powers his first fear was to hurt someone else with them. 

His mutant powers are a representation of the burdens he holds, a powerful beam that emanates without control and thus he must live wearing eyewear at all times to protect others around him and yet if this beam is not released and only contained it leads to severe headaches to Scott which he suffered through most of his early years after this power awoke. His fear of this power, that got to the point where he would not allow himself to cry because of the uncertainty of how his powers would affect his tears, alongside the past traumatic experiences of his life led him to become someone who seeks to be prepared for everything. Reading books on the art of war, strategy and how to fly planes since a young age. He needed to be prepared for everything so that he can protect everyone involved and never have a tragedy occur in his watch. 

All these qualities are why he made the perfect child soldier for Xavier’s team, he was impressionable, lost, alone and yet had the instinct to protect and be prepared. Despite his fear of his power, of his feelings of not being prepared he understood that another burden had been placed upon him, the burden of leadership. “If I don't do it, who will?” after all. And lead he did, despite only being able to see one color, he learned to pilot a plane in his young teens, he memorized every button, every position of lights and code. Despite having a simpler, more limited power than many of his peers, He planned out work regiments for himself and fellow team members and for a time it was simple. 

But things can’t remain simple and predictable in life, and Scott had to learn that lesson many times. Alternate timelines, Evil robots, Chaos magic induced extinctions all these and more are the things that Scott must prepare a team for at a given notice, he has been caught unprepared for this many times  but when the worst comes to pass, when the world is in chaos and someone must take a position of leadership, it’s not Xavier who listens to the cries of people and responds and it is not Magneto who makes a proper plan and unites the mutants under a structure, it’s Scott.

To put it simply, Scott Summers is someone who wants to foolishly prepare for everything and yet when he fails he is also the first to take responsibility and act. He is a martyr, a revolutionary and a hero. He is a protector and a leader. One who no matter what he does, can never recognize that for himself, who will forever see himself more in his failures than in his victories and someone who lives with more memories of his regrets than his joys. Because above all things Scott Summers is a fuckup, but so are we all.

[mister13eyond]

--

The set of Mr. Ant Tenna's TV Time is a chaotic buzz around me when I meet the show's hosts. There are crew members mulling around the set with the kind of urgency only television productions can manage; the chaos doesn't slow until I follow both hosts to Mettaton's dressing room. When he shuts the door, the clamor outside is walled out, and I'm left with a small pocket of peace amongst the noise.

A new addition to the studio, the newer host's dressing room stands out starkly from the rest of the studio. The green room we just passed through was alight with pastels and stars, but here everything is bathed in a persistent shade of pink. The vanity, the large wardrobe filled with costumes, even the couch that the two hosts sit on are all hot pink. Mettaton looks right at home. But the show's original host, Mr. Ant Tenna himself, looks incongruous with the room. He folds his long limbs up as he squeezes onto the couch next to Mettaton- though the two keep a respectful distance between them.

The two have just wrapped their second season as cohosts, and it’s certainly been a rollercoaster of one. After a decade of the show running with a single host, the up and coming star Mettaton joined Tenna on the late-night show last season. It was a risky move, but one that has clearly paid off- this second season together has had the highest ratings since the show's premiere.

It's owed in no small part to Mettaton's popularity. The robotic host had been a recurring guest on the show in the lead up to his rise to the role of host, and he has been a stable fixture in both social media and the press circuit since his own debut ten years ago. The robot has a charm that's easy to see- his flamboyant personality, perfectly sculpted face and charisma have all contributed to the star's meteoric rise.

It's he who welcomes me, graciously, though it's Tenna's studio. Perhaps it's this dynamic that has led to rumors that Tenna is training his replacement in anticipation of retirement. That rumor lingers in the air as I open the first question.

Vogue: So, you've just wrapped your second season together! This season has been a bit of a wild ride, hasn't it?

Mettaton: Oh my god.

Tenna: That's... a nice way to put it!!!

VOGUE: There was a solid stint in the middle of the season that Tenna hosted alone. Would you like to talk about that?

Mettaton; [laughs] Tenna, would you like to talk about it first?

Tenna: Ha! You know, I thought I'd be used to running this show solo. I did it so long before you joined up. I'm a pro at show biz, right?

Mettaton: You kept it running wonderfully, darling.

Tenna: Ha! Did I? [to Vogue] His absence was absolutely felt.

Mettaton: Stop! Hush. [to Vogue] He’s humble. He doesn't want to admit it, but he runs this studio like a tight ship. I came in last season and tried to shake everything up, you know? But this season- it's been nice to take a step back and learn from Tenna. I've been a viewer of his since I was a little toaster! [Laughs]

Tenna: Well! [Laughs]. It was a unique challenge during Mettaton's absence. I think everyone on the set has gotten used to his energy, his enthusiasm. Trying to keep that energy up on my own during his leave was... well. I'm happy he's back.

Vogue: Mettaton, what was it like being off the set for a while?

Mettaton: Oh, god. [Laughs]. Well. As I mentioned on my return this season, I was out for major battery surgery. So I didn't exactly have a great vacation! [Laughs].

Vogue: You've talked this season about your previous battery problems.

Mettaton: Oh, yes. Listen. Everyone reading this: if you have robots in your life, please tell them to get their battery checked. Especially if you've noticed them starting to run slower or fall asleep more.

Tenna: He used to fall asleep all over set. I once found him on the floor a foot from his charger.

Mettaton: [covering his face] oh, don't tell them that!

Tenna: I mean!!! [Laughs nervously] The crew spent a lot of time worrying about you, you know? [To Vogue] He worked himself half to death during the first season.

Mettaton: [through his hands] I mean! Ha! I'm a star, darling, it's not easy being this famous. ...Though. In truth, he's not wrong. [Laughs] I don't know! I felt like I had to make up for being the newbie on set. So I pushed myself as hard as I could for a long time.

Vogue: Was that a contributing factor in your surgery this year?

Mettaton: Oh god, yes. It's actually a little embarrassing to talk about now, but I'd been having slow battery decline for a while before that point. You know, I chose this body in my twenties, and battery life wasn't.... on my list of priorities at the time. So it has always been low. Even now, post-surgery, I have a limited capacity.

Tenna: But now! You can respect your limits!!!

Mettaton: You’re so kind, darling. [To Vogue] He's been in my corner ever since my return. Whenever I start to tire or I need a charging break he's always there, checking in on me.

Tenna: Well. You're our star!!!! What kind of entertainer doesn't value his talent?

Vogue: Tenna, there have been a lot of rumors that you've been training Mettaton to replace you for retirement. Any plans to surrender the show?

Tenna: Um. I....

Mettaton: Oh. Absolutely not. This is his show. I would never dream of a Mr. Ant Tenna's TV time without Tenna.

Tenna: [laughs] ...Thank you. I mean! I don't have any plans to retire any time soon! Sure, I may not be in my prime anymore, but I'm still cool. I'm still with it. I don't have burn in!!!

Mettaton: You are still cool.

Tenna: Wait, really?

Mettaton: Yes!!!!

Vogue: There have ALSO been rumors that you two are more than just cohosts. Would you like to address those?

Tenna: Oh! Um-

Mettaton: Well!

Tenna: We're not-

Mettaton: Not like.

Tenna: We're friends.

Mettaton: He's a very dear friend. I care about him so much.

Tenna: The same goes for you. [To Vogue] He's... [laughs] Mettaton is amazing. He's really changed this show for the better. Changed me for the better. I think the world of him.

Mettaton: Stop, hush.

Tenna: I mean it! Mettaton is amazing. Here's a star with this huge Underground following already, and he's working with me. I was so sure when I asked him to co-host that he'd laugh me out of the room.

Mettaton: I would never. [Scoffs] You want to know something? I got into entertaining because of TV Time. I used to watch and think.... one day I'd like to be a host like that.

Tenna: You don’t have to flatter me!!

Mettaton: I'm not flattering, I mean it.

Tenna: Haha....haha.... wow.

Vogue: Your chemistry as a duo is one of the show's strengths. Was that chemistry natural, or did you have to work for it?*

Tenna: Well. Hm.

Mettaton: He didn't like me at first.

Tenna: Wh- I didn't say that!

Mettaton: It’s okay!!!!

Tenna: No, it's not- [laughs] I may have been a little bit harsh to judge him at first.

Mettaton: Honestly? I didn't make it easy to like me.

Tenna: It’s! You know. [Laughs] I uh. Once upon a time, back during the show's history, I was in talks with an old friend about collaboration. It uh. It didn't work out. So.... you know. I brought my own issues to the table.

Mettaton: Well. I was also in the middle of pushing myself to a total battery failure, at the time, and it wasn’t making me popular.

Tenna: It was a big change! And we'd been running the show the same way for a very long time.

Mettaton: Honestly, there have been ups and downs.

Tenna: ....Yeah. Haha.

Mettaton: But. I think we're figuring it out.

Tenna: I like you now.

Mettaton: Ha-haha!! Well!!! I. Like you now too.

Vogue: What is it like, both being robots in this industry? Has it helped you work together?

Tenna: Haha. I don't know about that. I mean, Mettaton is.... new.

Mettaton: Oh, please. [To Vogue] Tenna's a work of art. He's immaculately built. Meanwhile, I had to have the bomb squad called in because my battery bulged so badly it melted several of my important connectors.

Tenna: That's not fair! Look at you. You’re beautifully built.

Mettaton: O-oh please! [To Vogue] In all honesty, Tenna has been such an inspiration as a robot. I always looked up to that as a viewer. But he's also gone out of his way to make me feel at home. I've grown used to being the only robot on set, so getting to work with someone who really understands has been a truly wonderful experience. And it's not just us two! Sweet Cap'n Cakes have been such a great addition to the show.

Tenna: Those three are a hoot and a half.

Mettaton: You know, they have a single dropping next month on all major streaming platforms.

Tenna: Right! The hustle never stops! Listen out for Cyber City Crab Rave!

Vogue: Tenna, what do you think of the changes Mettaton has made to the show- like adding Sweet Cap'n Cakes and DJ Blooky as musical guests?

Tenna: Oh, he's just spectacular. I mean! They're just spectacular. The whole new crew. I think the thing about TV is that you always have to be new and fresh, right? Always chasing the spotlight. The show had been going on for all this time. It had gotten stale.

Mettaton: It had not gotten stale.

Tenna: It had!!! I'm owning up to it!!!

Mettaton: It had not. Anything I did was to help get more eyes on the show, but the bones were all you. They always were.

Tenna: Mettaton, honey, baby, you'll kill me with this flattery!!!

[Both of them look away from each other for a bashful moment]

Vogue: Do you have any plans for the future of the show?

Mettaton: Oh, yes.

Tenna: The fun never ends!

Mettaton: I want to do more cooking spots next season.

Tenna: I have more games planned for our guests.

Mettaton: I have more guests planned for his games.

Vogue: Any previews you can give us?

Tenna: Hmmmm.

Mettaton: We're going to put Mr. Beast in a cage without food or water.

Tenna: We're WHAT?

Mettaton: Don't worry about it, darling.

Tenna: .... Okay. Yay!

THE LIFE & TIMES OF TV: The light world's favorite hosts talk love, showbiz, and robotics