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metaphor for a missing moment

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Youngest cried a lot and Iris was never very good at doing anything about it...

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Another weekly whatever

Conversations are like dancing

I guess

“Hekki grace, High Minister. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you tonight?”

Knower gives her a look that tells her she ought to behave herself in front of the Red Guard flanking her on either side. One tightens her grip on her shotgun, unsubtly reminding her that her old world customs are not to be tolerated. Still, Bartender smiles and leans forward in anticipation.

“Know your place, miscellaneous,” Knower replies, but her tone betrays her. She's tired of the act, but so long as people are watching, she must keep performing. A perpetual dance of grace as she'd said once. “Guards, wait for me outside. And close the shutter on your way out.”

“But, High Minister–” one begins to interject, but Knower is quick to silence her.

“I wasn't asking.” She glares at the two as they hurriedly shuffle out, slamming down the shutter behind them. The bar is closed, at least for now.

When they are alone, Knower speaks again. “Idiots.”

“Long day?”

“Aren't they all?”

Bartender chuckles and nods, “seems like it. Down here for an injection?”

Knower waves her hand. “Random inspection.”

“Random?” Bartender echoes.

“Well,” Knower shrugs, “randomly selected from a list of suspicious persons.”

“And that list is how long?”

“That's not for the public to know. Though let's just say it was a bit of a coin flip.”

It is by no means the first random inspection Knower has done on her, and it likely won't be the last. Bartender knows by now they're little more than glorified breaks from her day to day life.

“Well, I'm honored to be your lucky dance partner for tonight's performance. I'm sure the rest of your list wouldn't be as good at not stepping on your toes?” An obvious leading question. Plenty of people down here, most, in fact, dislike Knower. Bartender remains on for terms with her, despite it all.

“I'm not telling you the rest of the list.”

“Can't blame a girl for trying. Hey, you're not gonna make a mess in here, are you?”

“It wouldn't be a very convincing show if I left things the way I came, now would it?”

“Guess not.” Bartender opens a drawer and begins to toss the contents onto the floor on Knower's behalf. She isn't stupid enough to keep contraband upstairs and Knower never brings up the basement. “How are things upstairs?” she asks as she sets an empty drawer on the countertop before moving to dump out another. Knower is staring at the wanted poster on the wall that has long since begun to fade.

“Lately, I feel like a puppet holding my own strings,” she admits. “I'm not going to risk dropping them. You shouldn't either.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean we have enough dead friends. We don't need anymore.”

“Guess so.”

Their back and forth settles to little more than an ambient hum of existence between them. They do not look at each other as they wait for a convincing amount of time to pass before Knower has to leave. Too soon, and she wasn't thorough enough. Too long, and she could be in trouble, or worse, up to it. There was an elegance to it that Bartender could never quite pin down.

When Knower pushes herself up, Bartender speaks again. “I'll see you upstairs for the play?”

“Oh, I doubt it.”

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temperature days ♨️

a commission by @dead-finch-420

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really fond of having her sit on random stuff its my favorite thing to draw. enrichment. in her natural habitat. flourishing. photosynthesizing

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I’m not sure my computer is cut out to run this game.

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There is nothing you can't do in this game if you put your mind to it.

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So, a Jiao-type and a Red Guard walk into a bar...

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Occupant themed blowjob for weed

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I really think the new copypasta should be this fucking comment from the Resident Evil modding boards on a mod that makes the mayor’s daughter more beautiful because it personally ruined my life

many international conglomerations, including offices which own gaming studios, have been pushing an agenda of mediocrity and downright ugliness as the norm. as a student of mew, myofunctionary and postural therapies, as well as a someone who has researched extensively the effects of conventional and unorthodox orthodontistry, i can say there is objective scientific proof that one’s face changes from how one breaths, chews, eats, holds the lips together or their dietary choices. it’s not just genetic and hormonal. it is of paramount importance that one understands that beauty(and yes there is an ideal standard based on proportions[width, forward growth and compaciton but i cant get into that as it would take very long]) should be the norm in society, however this culture of soft processed foods that don’t even require any chewing, this diet focused on plant and soy products at the expense of meat and diary, which contain important growth factors, orthodonic malpractice making lazy extraction dentistry something positive, and general ignorance of changes in facial proportions brought about by palatal width, extrusion, and intrusion, has produced a culture of narrow, long faced, gracile people who have been led to believe it was their genetics that has given them their faces. for if they realized the truth that it was that doctor in their youth who pulled out 4 molars, or that phase of allergy in their pubertal years forcing them to mouth breath, that really ruined their looks, would make them very angry indeed….angry enough to make changes to the world and make these conglomerates their bitch. but that’s another story. people have a right to be beautiful and these institutions and corporations who champion ugliess and degeneracy have denied us this right by keeping us in the dark, outright lying to us, and forcing us to wallow in ignorance alongside them. it will take half a decade of hard work and hundreds if not thousands of dollars in the right megadoses of vitamin k2 mk4 and mk7 to rectify these issues in the average human. some may even require surgery. i mean look at the model, they purposely gave her negative canthil tilt, which is not present on the real model. they want us to think these flaws that come from improper function/myofunction which leads to poor form, because form follows function, are normal. infact negative canthil tilt is most often the result of zygomatic retrusion and downgraft, a symptom of narrow palate or clockwise titled maxilliary extrusion. and that comes from chewing soft foods and not taking enough vitamin k2 as a child

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*holds up a pile of twitching meat sludge in both hands for you to see* This is my favourite babygirl.

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A haircut did not, in fact, make her feel better.

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Genuinely what did they mean by this.

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Whoops I wrote too much this weekend but I guess it was expected because I picked the prompt: Names

I mean it's still under 1000 but it's DEFINITELY NOT A DRABBLE. Also it's Blue/Melody

Names are for people and you've never felt like a person. Anymore, you don't even feel like yourself, and you're starting to wonder if you ever knew who that was to begin with. You resonate with the term “shell” because nothing else quite captures how empty you feel. You're piloting something around, and people tell you that it's you, but you don't believe them.

It's not that she chose that bothers you, though it does bother you, it's that she didn't tell you until she'd already done it. In fact, no one ever tells you. One day your friends stopped having numbers and started having names. Had everyone just figured out who they were without you? It felt like that.

You're in your bed, staring at a neon sign illuminating your room from outside. Your head is on her shoulder, and her fingertips are running up and down your bare upper arm.

“So…’Melody’?”

“Do you not like it? Is that what this is?”

You're startled by the accusation. “What? No. You said we could talk about it later. Isn't this later?” You sit up to look at her, at Eighty-six, at “Melody”. You think she looks different now that she has a name, but you worry you might be projecting. Still, you can't shake the feeling that she's somebody now while you're still no one. Worse yet she figured it out so quickly.

“What's to talk about? You never made a big deal out of anyone else's name.”

You aren't sure. You hope if she explains it you'll suddenly understand how to be something more than what you are, but it sounds silly now that you're tasked with trying to verbalize it. All you can do is shrug and say, “I don't know. It's pretty.”

She laughs, reaching up to place her hand on the side of your mask. You don't trust many people to be this close to you anymore, or maybe it's you that you don't trust.

“What about you? Am I just supposed to call you Forty-eight forever?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Well, no, but…”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting on her response. As she thinks, she traces her fingers against the line where your mask meets the side of your face. Rarely touched, you find the area more sensitive than you expect, and you shiver inadvertently.

“It's a bit…impersonal, isn't it?”

“Only one Forty-eight, right?”

She sighs. “I suppose.”

“How did you decide?”

“It just felt right. I don't know. It's hard to explain.”

You wonder if that's true, or if she just doesn't think you'll understand. You want to press further but you have the growing sense you're ruining the moment. Pillow talk was never your strong suit. Worse, still, you realize you were staring again when Melody begins to giggle at your expression.

You roll back onto your bed next to her, looking up at the ceiling. You try to focus on the weight next to you and all of the sensations that still linger on your body. Feeling that belong to Forty-eight. To you. To whoever you are in the moment, who isn't the you that you were yesterday, and might not be the you that you are tomorrow. Nameless but not yet unknown. You still can't say you feel any more certain of yourself, but if you do better tomorrow, just like you promised, then, maybe…

“I gotta get going,” her voice pulls you from your own head. “Don't wanna get caught coming out of a troublemaker’s apartment this late. Aaand you might want to get dressed.”

You groan, dragging yourself upright. “I know, I know. Last thing I want is to get hit with a ‘random’ inspection while looking fresh out of the pod.”

She laughs at your dumb joke before nuzzling her head against yours. “I'll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. Night, Melody.”

“Goodnight, Forty-eight.”

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bb+shell!watcher cus the hide and seek unused dialogue has me by the throat

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You remember... hide and seek down here, after dark. Running around in our pajamas. I found you, once, asleep in your hiding spot.

I was thinking about this unused ch4 BBF audio and realized Watcher probably would have still been a shell at that point given she's younger than BB. So this was really just an excuse to make shell Watcher.

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gif i made of youngest getting hit in the head with a rock because i love her