#:c but its a part of her character i wanted to explore

[farolero-posting]

Different

Words: 2,313

Summary: Prototype and Rue talk during the night, and watch the city from a window.

As time between rest cycles increases, the chances of running into issues in data organization go up as well. It was fortunate that robots do not need to do it as often as organic beings do, and that this body was still fresh and working as intended, but it wasn’t advisable to extend it beyond a certain time frame.

And Prototype was not looking for that moment to come, despite his programming’s insistence. 

Going through the data was mostly an unremarkable chore. It involved going through the episodic data in chronological order, searching for important information to convert into permanent data, and freeing space for the next cycle. There were books comparing this process to sleep, stating that living beings behave similarly, but were unaware of it, meaning this was most likely a theory rather than empirical information.

They also dreamed, and he didn’t.

“I thought you would have noticed me sooner.” Rue stepped into the room, leaping to take one of the seats, while Proto’s gaze was still glued to the bookshelf. “Are you busy?”

“No. Just taking a look at this room.” He turned to face the fox, who waved her tail in a slow motion, eyes staring back at the robot. “What about you?”

Rue’s ear twitched once, and she frowned. “I’m not doing much. I woke up a few moments ago and then heard you in here.” She tilted her head, a smile forming on her. “Did I ever tell you you’re louder when you think?”

He quickly found matching information. “You did, at one point around a month after I was tamed. What prompted it this time?”

“I know you’re not sleeping.” Rue narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t sleep—”

“You still rest. You can call it sleep, you know?” Rue changed her position, tensing herself up. “I don’t think you’ve done it once since we moved here.”

His hands tensed.

“Correct,” Prototype admitted.

Rue sighed, and kept pressing: “You don’t even turn the lights on while you’re here. I’ve been watching you.”

“I think my own light is enough for that, so I don’t do it, I can change that if you wish” he replied, moving to flip the switch on one of the lamps, casting a dim light.  

They were in a study room inside of the apartment the siblings shared in the Refuge. The place had a bookshelf full of books on different topics, and a simple desk with paper, a cup with watercolor brushes, and a box of supplies. A blueprint of a flying machine was pasted on the wall, with sticky notes all over it. A dusty backup powercell sat by the corner; it wasn’t on, however, as the Refuge generators already provided the necessary energy to function.

“That is much better, thank you” Rue smiled, waving her tail happily for a moment.

She didn’t say anything for the moment, and Proto was unsure what to expect of her. Despite how well he knew her and her habits, her thoughts were a mystery most of the time. Rue sighed then, her ears moving down. Perhaps this was sadness, or something else.   

“I want to talk, but… I think I want to go outside. This room feels a little small.”

“Lead the way.”

Rue leaped to the floor, trailing between the furniture, towards the living room. Prototype closed the door behind her, and then walked towards the apartment’s exit. They caught a glimpse of Cedric sleeping in his room, with a tight grip on his covers. They were careful not to wake him as they closed the door. Rue didn’t take the route towards the catwalks, and instead found a place to sit on by the stairs, where the windows were the biggest, giving them the best view of the buildings around them. It was still dark, but the red phosphor river and the street lamps illuminated the landscape. The tower couldn’t be seen from this angle, and for a moment, the picture in front of them almost matched the one Proto remembered from the real world.

Well… at least, according to the data he was provided with. Perhaps he considered the image important enough to preserve it as clear as possible, back in the day. 

He looked at Rue, who seemed to be looking at it as if it was her first time doing so. Or not, it was equally as likely she had a different reason. This train of thought prompted a question.

“Do you recognize this view?” He reopened the conversation. “You are very focused on it.”

“I… think I do. I know some of the signs from the old world are still there. I can even see some of the obsolete signs from old businesses.”

Proto looked to the right, making a mental map of where the tower would be, out of their view. A yellow ring stared back at him from the crystal.

“The buildings are also arranged in the same way, probably even in the same locations. I think he wanted to make this as similar as we know it,” he commented. “I have… a clear image of it. It’s a perfect match.”

Rue nodded, but remained silent for over forty seconds. Her tail was stiff by her side. Proto assumed she was likely to be pensive.

“I… don’t think I can recall most of that,” was her final response. “It’s… hard sometimes. To think about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Rue turned to face the robot, which he didn’t notice, still looking out the window.. “Do you know why I answered the robot question?”

“I assume it is because under the current circumstances, we exist as code running within the World Machine.”

“That is true. But… sometimes I don’t like thinking about this and realizing that I don’t see myself as… I was intended to be? I’m sorry, this might sound offensive, now that I think about it.”

“I don’t see the offensive component,” Proto reassured her. “That is a common conflict,” he added, sitting down to be closer to Rue’s height. “The notion of personhood and the deterministic nature of programming are not immediately compatible. I assume this is what you’re thinking about?”

“I… don’t think that is the case.” Rue lowered her head.

“What is the case, then?”

“You know that the real world our memories are based on, and the world we see here are not the same. I don’t know how much you were able to explore in it, but for me it’s always felt off because I know that it is just memories, and not the real thing.”

“Well… it’s as accurate as it could be.”

“I wish I could tell the difference.” Rue huffed, letting her frustration show. “All I have is anything my real world counterpart could give me, and what you and others said about what I was like. It’s all words, and not a single image.” Rue looked away. “What is it like to be able to record everything and trust that it is true?”

"Hmm..." The robot considered his next words, trying to measure what sort of response his sister was looking for. "It depends. If it's something that brings you happiness, you will want to revisit it and it will feel nice. Otherwise... There is a lot of junk data, and other things that can be unpleasant but important to remember."

"Ah, that makes sense." Rue moved closer to him, eyes still on the window. "I... should apologize. This is a depressing conversation, isn't it? I know it doesn't change anything. The old world is gone. The real Rue..."

"It changes something in you." Proto insisted, moving a hand to point in her direction. "You can feel sad about this conflict, or differently. But that is something that is happening to you, and makes you real. I believe this is something you would agree with."

Rue nodded, closing her eyes in thought, before making another question.

"Do you mourn the old Rue? Or the old Cedric? We're different. We even have to change how we act around others, because we know things about their world that change our situation, and because our iterations are living different lives that the real ones didn’t get to live. We’re here but… the real Rue is not."

"I think you are the Rue and Cedric I am meant to be with," Prototype answered, Rue's ears perked up. "By this I mean... if we try to be more meticulous with what we consider constitutes the same "being", then every single one of us is different to whoever we were in the real world. Some information is always lost, and... our consciousness starts with the simulation being executed, even if we know we have other things in our code, so to speak."

"That is a sad way of looking at it. I'll admit..." Rue shivered for a moment, barely perceptible to her brother. "I guess you do understand my plight. You have thought about this before, haven't you?"

Prototype did not reply, and chose to close his eye instead, in a gesture resembling agreement.

"I am avoiding resting cycles," he confessed, after catching the glimpse of some of the apartment lights switching on, likely to be the first people to wake up for that day. “I have not done it since before leaving the mines.”

"Ha, I knew it." Rue's tail wiggled, as if she had solved a riddle without putting in the effort to make him admit it. "Want to talk about it?"

Would it be helpful to do it? Would it serve a purpose at all? There was no way to know for certain. 

But it seemed highly probable that she was the best candidate for that conversation.

"...Sure." Proto looked down, his antennas moving to point slightly to the back. "When I run those cycles, one of the things I have to do is go through every new information I have stored, and sort through it, compressing it, deleting junk data, summarizing it, and free space. This is not a concern most of the time."

"Oh." Rue's tail stopped moving in mid air, as a realization hit her. "You're scared of going through them."

"I can't say. Maybe." He shrugged. "I know it is unavoidable, but I am not looking forward to it."

"You almost died."

"I'm not alive."

"You know what I mean, Proto." Rue shook her head. "Give yourself the right to give it that name."

"Rue, it's fine," he insisted. "I always knew it was a possibility."

"How do you feel about it?," she pressed on. 

Prototype didn't know what to answer. How did he feel about the experience of losing his body? Not good. The squares themselves on his code were not something he wanted to remember, either. What about the circumstances it took place in? Disappointed, for not predicting it more accurately, and preventing the damage caused. Regretful, then. The knowledge that it was a possibility was simply factual, like many other things are. If something is possible to occur, he cannot ignore it.

“Not well. I did not mean for it to happen. Or the problems it brought on everyone else…”  

“I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I suppose.” He looked away from her again. “I believe it is just worse when there are things that are under your control. When it is your responsibility to achieve something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just as it was a possibility to cause the conditions to worsen, there was a possibility for it not to happen, and the determinant factors were in big part my own actions.” Proto was still, but the soft rumble in the room indicated he was still in thought. “The one thing I waited for so long was a chance to… fulfill a purpose, but in doing so, put others in danger. That should not happen.”

“It is not something to blame yourself for. There was still a lot out of your control, and you did your best under those conditions.”

“Well, what should I feel, then? It was at least easier to accept that I couldn’t do anything when the outcome was certain to happen. My passiveness or any action would not change the results, and I could detach myself from it… This, instead—”

“Do you mourn yourself?” Rue blurted out, stopping him.

“No.” He shook his head, and after a moment added:  “Yes? I have mixed signals”

“I grieve for myself too. I can… honor her memory, and I want to do that, but it saddens me that this isn’t the way she thought her life would be like. I’m only a second chance she got.”

“That makes sense,” Prototype nodded. “I see myself as a copy. Functional, but fully aware of the gaps between the original, and this.” He pointed to himself, noticing the way his new joints moved without any issue. “This is not something you can change, and ignorance is not helpful.”

“Maybe being different is not so bad. You’re still you to me. I don’t need to suspend my disbelief to think that. You are the sibling I am meant to be with.” 

“Ah, I see what you did there.” 

Rue moved closer, resting her body next to her brother, and looking down at the city. The light on her forehead reflected itself on the glass, faintly. She felt a hand on the back of her head, and she leaned into it. When the first rays of the Sun shone their light on their side of the world, Rue looked up to him. 

“You still need to sleep.”

“I’m still not calling it that,” he huffed, amused. “But I think I am more prepared to handle it.”

“I feel better too.” Rue stood up, and Proto followed after her. “This world is beautiful, different as it may be, and I’m glad to be here.”

“So am I.”

[pinkberrytea]

Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion.

Memento mori—Remember you must die. Enveloped in memories of her death, the Vampire Ascendant watches his darling consort as she slumbers, lost in dreams of blood and mist. Life is short, and shortly it will end; death comes quickly and respects no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

An exploration of Astarion's character and his relationship with his Dark Consort following the ascension, from a softer perspective.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 6.2k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this is my first time dabbling in creative writing, and of course my first attempt at smut fiction, but still, I hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable. I would like to dedicate this work to the lovely @locallegume, who was a huge source of inspiration, and also to hismostbelovedspawn over on reddit, for being always so incredibly kind and supportive. I love you guys!

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; mildly dubious consent; creampie; fluff & angst; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior

The beginning of the morning twilight is Astarion’s favorite time of the day, for it feels at once ephemeral and infinite. The wistful silence, broken only by the still timid chirping of the waking birds; the royal blue-colored sky, tinged with specks of the purples and violets of the dawn; the chilly morning breeze, gently rustling the flowers in the garden, pushing the still forming dewdrops off their petals and onto the ground; you, slumbering beside him, pale skin reflecting the dim light of the fading moon, rosy lips slightly parted. Sleeping peacefully like this, you look like a life-sized porcelain doll, he thinks—your unmoving chest betrays your otherwise healthy likeness, as does the unnaturally blanched color of your skin. Your nightgown hangs lazily off your shoulder, exposing one of your breasts, and your undergarments lay discarded on the floor, on the exact same spot where he had tossed them earlier that night. He adores this version of you—so vulnerable, so defenseless, laid open for him, and him only.

Astarion finds it curious, how you seem to completely lose yourself in your dreams, yet he is also greatly perturbed by the notion that there is a part of you that he is still unable to access, to dominate. It feels unnatural, not to be able to control this elusive slice of your essence, but having ever only tranced, it also mystifies him that you’d voluntarily give up your consciousness each night. You were after all ever the trusting fool—from the moment you met, he had lied to you, manipulated you countless times, and each time you fell for it, standing by his side even when the world screamed at you not to. And even now, you give yourself to him, unquestioningly, unconditionally. In all the long years of his existence, there had been none like you, and there never will be again. None as trusting, none as kind, and he both hates and loves you for it. The very notion of you extending your kindness to anyone other than him is infuriating, and makes him want to take it for himself, put it in a glass dome and hide it away in a place where only he can bask in its warmth. He thinks he is owed that, at least; yours was the only hand that ever reached out to him, so he is justified in not wanting to share.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and a lock of your hair that had been trapped underneath one of your arms falls onto your chest. After eyeing it for a moment, Astarion reaches out for the tresses and grasps them between his fingers. Bringing them close to his nose, he takes in your scent, that is now also his. It smells comforting, familiar—it smells like home. The corner of his lips curl into an almost imperceptible smile, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. The hushed shroud of the early hours acts as a cloak, under which he is granted a brief respite, a rare chance to let himself be gentle, be kind. Just as you become entirely vulnerable before him in your slumber, he too exposes the soft underbelly of his feelings for you; that chaotic, intoxicating brew, a messy blend of passion, guilt, hurt, longing, and love, endless and unrelenting love.

He brings his elegant fingers close to your face, and ever so gently glides their soft pads across the cold, velvety smooth skin of your cheek. Your long lashes flutter slightly, tickling the sensitive area under your eyes as he lowers the digits to brush the plump of your lips. He admires you for a short moment, taking in your image—his pretty consort, so beautiful, so frail, so foolishly devoted to him. Oh how lucky he is, to have you who would do anything for him by his side; his most precious treasure, the reason why his long dead heart beats inside his chest once more. He grasps your chin, delicately tilting your head upward to face him, and tenderly presses his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your chest, fingers softly caressing the pebbled peak of your exposed breast, his touch so faint that his skin barely comes into contact with yours. As much as Astarion enjoys asserting his dominance over you, making you kneel before him, seeing the dejected yet submissive expression on your pretty face whenever he decides to make a show of his power, it is these moments he values the most. In your intimacy, he may treat you gently, tenderly, and in your state of unconsciousness, by morning his loving touches will be but a hazy memory, securing your place below, but close beside him, from where you shall never leave for as long as he draws breath—which he can now only do thanks to you.

His fingers on your nipple leave it alone for a moment to close around your breast, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze. Moving quietly so as not to wake you, he slides his right leg under yours and presses it against the back of your knee, creating a space between your thighs as he pushes them apart, where he then nests himself, climbing on top of you.

“Astarion…” when you softly whisper his name, his half-smile widens into a grin; how reassuring it is, to know you belong to him even in your dreams. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on the delicate skin of the curve of your neck, and his lips brush against the two small indentations disrupting the otherwise pristine smoothness of your flesh. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the back of your right shoulder, his long fingers blindly searching for the matching set of bite marks. The last of the three pairs adorns your left wrist, for which reason he will ever so often take your hand in his, only to lovingly kiss it and turn it around so he can admire the evidence of his proudest feat—having sired you.

“Oh my love, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Astarion coos, holding your head gently against his bare chest, fingers tangled in your hair as you writhe and squirm in his arms, empty and glassy eyes lost in a hollow stare, seeing nothing but darkness, endless darkness. The expression on your face is at once delirious and vacant—mouth agape and fists clenched, pupils blown wide, eyelashes wet with tears and a thin string of drool coming out from the corner of your lip and trickling down your chin. At least for tonight, you are lost to him, and as he winces at the still foreign sensation of the loud, vigorous throbbing in his head, your own fading heartbeat softens, dying down into nothingness. And right as it is about to fall perpetually silent, he lets his fangs pierce his own tongue, drawing droplets of now living blood; bringing your face close to his, he presses his thumb to your lower lip, and covers your mouth with his.

He loses himself in the memory for a moment, as he so often does. Your peaceful, serene expression stands in stark contrast to the one that had been etched on your face on that fateful night. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet still he remembers the pain, the agony, the relentless fear building up in his stomach as your body contorted and tears glistened in your vacant eyes. Never had Astarion been more afraid of anything than he’d been of losing you, and by his hand no less. Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion. You only ever questioned him about what had happened on the evening of your turning once, but it mattered not how many times you asked, for he would never fully disclose the raw truth—how he had cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, kissing away your tears; how he had picked you up as you lost consciousness and carried you to your bed, where he would then tuck you in so very tenderly, so very gently, softly patting your hair and holding your hand, sharing his warmth with you as you lost your own; how he would patiently wait by your side, watching as the color slowly drained from your face, his stomach sinking at the thought of you never waking again—only for you to then slowly open your eyes, their hue now a rich crimson, much like his own. No, he would never again allow himself to be so weak, for he was supposed to be your warden, your liege. This pathetic side of him was to be ever hidden from you, only rearing its ugly head during the brief, sleepy moments preceding the crack of dawn.

With his lips still pressed against your skin, Astarion starts peppering kisses down your neck, on the hollows of your collarbone and across your sternum, his hand on your breast fondling it gently, the other still tracing the bite marks on your shoulder. His still clothed hips start lazily, almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth, lightly grinding against your naked thighs; thinking back to the night when he made you his almost inevitably causes blood to rush to his groin, and his body starts unconsciously seeking the sweet relief of the friction between his hardening erection and your supple skin. He moves his hand on your breast to grasp your nipple between his fingers, lightly squeezing it. You involuntarily buck your hips in response, which amuses him greatly as he continues playing with the tender nub. A soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging and emboldening his attentions as they drift away from your clavicle towards your chest. He plants gentle kisses on the plump of your bosom, using his teeth to pull at your nightgown and drag it down, exposing your clothed breast to the chilly morning air. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin, pressing his lips to the valleys of your ribs, the softness of your lower belly, and finally to your bare crotch. With his face so close to your swollen sex, the sweet scent of your essence now intoxicates his senses. He stands back for a moment to admire how it glistens in the faint glow of the moonlight, so deliciously inviting, as your juices start building up and collecting in-between your folds.

Feeling his breath caressing the sensitive skin of your core, you finally start to slowly regain consciousness. Once his arousals were returned to him, Astarion would make a habit of waking up during the night at various times to bury his cock in you, so it takes you but a moment to gather your bearings. Either out of mischievousness or curiosity, you play coy at first, pretending to be asleep still. His soft lips briefly come into contact with your engorged bud, sending shock waves through your body, and you are barely able to keep yourself from letting out a yelp, although you can’t prevent your skin from becoming covered with goosebumps. When his tongue pokes out of his mouth to give it a tentative lick, you know you won’t be able to keep up the charade for much longer. He feels your body tense up, and slightly raises his head to look at you from his position between your legs with half-lidded, lascivious eyes, dilated pupils partially covering the ruby hue of his irises. You’re unsure if he has already caught on to your little ruse, so you try staying as still as possible, which proves difficult with his face so close to your cunt.

After what seems like an eternity he decides to continue, lapping at your clit again and then sliding his tongue downwards, burying it between your folds. He presses it against the outer edge of your entrance, squeezing slick out of you, and as he savors your essence, he can’t help but think that while its sweet tanginess does not compare to the coppery, velvety richness of the crimson in your veins—nothing ever will, for his is the blood that courses through them—it may well be the second best thing he has ever tasted. Gliding his tongue upwards once more, he uses it to gently massage the raw bundle of nerves atop your slit, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your fluids between it and your twitching cunt, which then dribbles down onto your thighs. Placing a hand on each side of your hips, he pulls you closer to him, and the shift causes his fangs to graze the sensitive skin of your folds, in response to which your eyes water and you clutch the silk sheets under you both. Taking no notice of your desperate reaction, he continues swirling his tongue up and down your wetness, gently suckling on the tender skin, eagerly eating you up as if you were a full-course meal served especially for him, just begging to be ravished.

You feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and at this rate it won’t be long before you are brought to the edge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that you are supposed to be pretending to be asleep as you lose yourself in the crescendo of your release, you arch your back, leaning on your elbows to support your weight, and as soon as you do, he mercilessly pulls away from you, leaving your dripping core empty and aching. Eyes closed still, you let out a soft mewl in protest, which you regret as soon it leaves your lips, for once Astarion notices your desperation, you are done for.

Still unsure if he has already perceived your awakened state or if he believes your body to be involuntarily reacting to his touch, you dare not produce any further sounds. Having cruelly left your throbbing mound unattended, his tongue now glides its way up your stomach, leaving a glistening wet mess in its wake. Upon reaching your chest, his lips latch onto your left breast, your perked nub fitting perfectly inside his mouth. He sucks on it ever so tenderly, teasing it with a pointed tongue and lightly scraping the squishy surrounding flesh with his fangs. One of his hands leaves its place on your hip and finds its way between your legs, and you let out a sigh of relief when you feel a long, elegant finger ghosting over your clit. The other hand slides further down to the curve of your ass, and his blunt nails dig into your soft skin, giving it a firm squeeze.

The pad of the wandering digit finally presses down onto the engorged flesh of your reddened knot, massaging it leisurely in circular patterns, and another finger suddenly slides between your folds, parting them gently. Unable to contain yourself, you roll your hips into his hand, which you soon learn is a grave mistake as he tightens his grip on your ass, applying such pressure that come morning, bruises are certain to form on the pale skin, which he will then tenderly kiss better while looking apologetically at you from under thick lashes; and you will forgive him, as you always do. Lifting his head up from your now rouged, swollen nipple, he readjusts his position above you, using his body weight to pin you down and hold you in place. He lets go of your ass, firmly grasping at your jaw with his newly freed hand, and even from behind closed eyes you can feel the intensity of his gaze. This does not bode well, and try as you might you cannot ignore the sickening pinch in the pit of your stomach as his eyes scrutinize every inch of your face—has he noticed? Is a punishment in order? Will he deny you your release?

“Open up, darling. Your mouth.” The commanding tone with which Astarion vocalizes the otherwise unassuming words is all it takes to placate your erratic thoughts, and obeying is for you as natural as breathing—or it would be, if you were still alive. Once you do as he says, you feel his thumb pressing on your lower lip, forcing it further down. He slides the digit inside your mouth, gagging you slightly, and your lips instinctively close around it. “Good girl,” he purrs, and encouraged by the tenderness of his praise, you start lightly sucking on it, coating it with saliva. For a short moment, he becomes entranced by the feeling of your wet tongue massaging his skin, and his mind wanders to the thought of your plump lips wrapped tightly around his cock. This prompts him to once again start bucking his hips, rubbing the now obvious bulge underneath his pants against your stomach, but this time his rhythm is much more frantic, more desperate.

Relief washes over you as you feel the fingers still in your slit resume their fondling, the one on your clit now applying greater pressure, handling it much less gently, yet just as skillfully, his knowledge of all the ins and outs of your body having always been something he prided himself on. The other makes its way down from its place between your folds, plunging into you as soon as it reaches your entrance. Your body jerks in response, and your moan is muffled by his thumb in your mouth—when he then plunges another, stretching you open without giving you time to adjust, you involuntarily bite down on the digit gagging you, sinking your fangs into his flesh. He grimaces, and you can tell you have hit an artery, because the flow of the thick, hot blood running down your throat is alarmingly heavy. However, rather than pulling away, he lets you drink, curling his fingers inside you and massaging the tight walls of your cunt with his knuckles. The rich taste of his crimson lingering in your tongue and spreading inside your body, mixing with yours within your veins and making them pulsate with life—pure, raw, vibrating life—works as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening all your senses, and the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers is all it takes for you to come undone on his hand, muscles spasming and clenching around the digits, coating them in the sweet nectar of your release.

Just as you reach your climax, Astarion’s own teeth sink into the indentations marking the otherwise smooth skin of your neck. You instinctively cock your head to the side to grant him more access, letting him feed on you as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, sucking on his thumb still. His blood flows from him to you and then back to him, and the sheer intimacy of it brings you so close together that it’s as if you have merged into one single being. You can no longer tell where you end and he begins, as your minds touch and mesh and then untangle again, in a sensual, chaotic dance, where you both sway to the rhythm of his heartbeat. And while the connection lasts, his emotions rush through you and yours through him, rendering words meaningless as the everlasting adoration, the inebriating, all-consuming love you share, no matter how tainted, is laid bare before you, in all its wickedness and allure.

“Fear not: you are mine.”

You finally open your eyes, letting go of his thumb, and as the fog from the afterglow subsides you notice his fingers remain inside you still, gliding effortlessly up and down your twitching walls, which are now lubricated with slick and come; your skin tingles from the overstimulation, but the sensation is not unwelcome. With the hand you have just freed, he holds your head in place while he continues to feed, and you both stay like this for a while, his fingers buried inside your cunt and his fangs in your neck, where they rightfully belong. His little grunts as he drinks from you and the feeling of his hardened cock pressed flush against your stomach rekindle the ache between your legs, causing the living blood now coursing through your veins to flow to your tender core.

Having drank to his heart’s content, Astarion pulls away from you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness as both his fangs and fingers leave your body. No longer plagued by the perpetual, agonizing hollowness of vampiric hunger, his only reason for feeding on you still is the invigorating thrill of your taste on his tongue and your blood pulsating in his arteries; you were his first, after all, having offered him the greatest gift of them all when you had no good reason to. Killing you on the evening he first revealed his true nature had never been out of the question, and it puzzles him still why you would willingly surrender this sanguine gift to a vampire stalking you in the night—a pitiful creature, hiding in the shadows, with murderous intent and offering you nothing but pain and misery. He is reminded of your foolishness and naïveté every time he sinks his fangs in your soft flesh, and the familiarity of it is oddly comforting to him.

Not bothering to wipe the red smear on his chin, he brings his hand up to your mouth once more, only this time his digits are covered in your juices. A single look into his crimson eyes, clouded with lust, tells you all you need to know, and you eagerly obey the silent order, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

“Ever so obedient, aren’t you, my sweet?” His honeyed words and impish smile send shivers down your spine, and unable to talk as your tongue flicks and swirls, lapping at your own sticky essence, you look up at him through your lashes with coquettish demureness; his pretty little spawn, always so good to him, so docile, so devoted. The very sight of you makes his cock twitch with desire. “I do find it charming when you play your darling little games. Mostly because you are awful at them. You did know I was aware the entire time, didn’t you?,” although his smile widens, there is a hint of danger in his voice, “That you were awake.”

As his blood within you rushes to your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears, Astarion’s expression darkens for a moment, and the lust in his eyes grows wilder, more desperate. There is something endlessly enticing about how bashful and girlish you look when your face is hot and flushed with his crimson, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it makes him want to devour you whole. He abruptly slides his fingers out of your mouth, and the glistening string of your fluids that forms between your lips and his digits breaks off as he uses that same hand to grab your neck and bring your face close to his. Once you are mere inches apart, he stops for a moment, locking eyes with you, and the proximity between you is such that you can feel his long lashes brushing against your skin and see the flecks in different shades of red swimming in his irises. The stillness in the air makes you acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat, and it paradoxically both comforts and torments you. Such is the nature of your relationship; yearning and sorrow, worship and regret, lust and greed. The duality of it is not lost to you, but you’re past the point of coming up with justifications, for it is far too late for redemption. You made your choice, he made his, and now his burden is yours to bear. It matters not if outsiders looking in cannot make sense of it, as the bond between you was never meant to be understood by anyone else—however ugly and twisted it may be perceived by those around you, it is undeniably a bond of love, one you are willing to protect even if it costs you everything.

“Until the world falls down.”

When he finally closes the distance between you and crashes his mouth into yours, your mind is wiped clean of any semblance of coherent thought and your senses are filled with nothing but him—his scent, his warmth, his taste. He hungrily parts your lips with his tongue as soon as your skin touches his, your teeth clicking in his desperation, and his grip on your neck tightens. You feel tears well up in your eyes, some spilling through your lashes and rolling down your cheeks, your repressed emotions overflowing as you lose yourself in the fierce intensity of his kiss. You want him, you need him, you hate him; you love him, oh how dearly you love him, more than life itself. He explores the inside of your mouth, wantonly, passionately, only stopping to suck on your bottom lip, nipping it with his fangs and lapping at the droplets of blood blooming from the punctured flesh. Once he pulls away, gasping for air, you are both a disheveled mess, lips swollen and bruised and red. Not yet letting go of you, his fingers wrapped around your throat still, he guides your head back down, laying it on the soft feather pillow, only to then straighten up his torso, hand on your neck holding you in place and darkened eyes looking down upon you. From your position below him, he looks ethereal, almost godly, as the moon casts a pale halo around his frame, shining its light on the naked skin of his upper body.

He holds this position for a while, silently studying your face, and as he does, his intense gaze seems to gradually soften, mellowing out into almost tenderness. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin lessen, and then cease completely as he frees you, raising his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces the trail of dried tears, and you lean into his soothing touch, eyes wettening once more. Taking notice of this, he leans back down and brushes his lips against the teardrops threatening to escape from your lashes, drying them before they fall.

“Shh, my darling, hush.” The softness in Astarion’s voice and the gentleness of his caresses as he runs his fingers through your hair are all you ever yearned for, all you ever needed, and yet with every touch your chest tightens and you feel a pang of loneliness and guilt tugging at your unbeating heart, for this is what you want, but not what you deserve. You have failed him, just as he has failed others, and your regrets bind you together for eternity as the thread of your fate entangles with his in a constricting embrace—so is it too greedy, to let yourself be selfish and indulge in his warmth before the sun rises? Is even someone as broken and wicked as you allowed a moment of reprieve, however brief? You know not the answer to these questions, nor do you think you ever will. All you know is that there’s nowhere else you want to be but in his arms, no matter how much it hurts, for you’ll endure the pain as long as you are by his side.

“Kiss me,” you quietly plead, your supplication barely a whisper, prompting him to pull away slightly to look into your eyes. He takes a moment to try and read your expression, his gaze sharp, inquisitive, stripping you off all your defenses and laying you bare before him. A short time passes, and without saying a word, he lowers his head down again, lips brushing against yours, their pillowy softness and the taste of your blood still lingering on his skin shrouding your mind in a white fog. You raise both of your arms and wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer as your mouth matches his movements, the desperation of before now manifesting more tenderly, more lovingly, but just as intensely. One of his hands remains on your cheek as he kisses you, and with the other, he finally unlaces his pants, freeing his neglected erection, which by now is slick from the precome leaking from its engorged head. The color of the sky outside slowly begins to brighten, now a beautiful blend of periwinkle and cyan, and as the twilight peaks and starts to reach its end, Astarion decides he has waited long enough—he will take you here and now, before the merciless, harsh light of the sun engulfs you both.

Feeling his hardness against your thigh, you readily comply, spreading your legs apart. You need this just as much as he does; to be one with him, carnally, for your souls have long merged, and there is no you without him just as there is no him without you. As he lines up with your entrance, his lips leave yours and he presses your foreheads together, staring into your eyes with reassuring tenderness. You feel the tip of his cockhead flush against your dripping sex—the reddened, puffed up skin feels warm, and thinking of how it is swollen from his blood in your veins is all it takes for him to finally snap and give into his desires. He slides inside of you in a single thrust, the wetness from your juices facilitating his entry as he stretches your walls to accommodate his large size. You try to bite back a whimper, your eyes once again tingling and prickling with the promise of tears as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head and your fingers become entangled in his silvery curls. Not moving immediately, he waits a while, giving you time to adjust. You revel in the familiar feeling of his cock stuffed inside your core, the pain and warmth of it, and you wonder if he too can find comfort nowhere else but in your flesh, as it is only when filled with him that you are able to hold together the broken pieces of your descended mind.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek now rests on your waist as he moves his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck, taking in your scent. Ever so slowly he starts rolling his hips back and forth, planting gentle kisses on the delicate skin where his fangs had been buried just moments ago, now stained with patches of dried blood. You close your eyes, still trying to hold back the tears, hugging him as tightly as you can, or as tightly as he’ll let you. His pace is at first languid, sensual, allowing you to feel the entirety of him as he massages your aching, tender walls, still sensitive and spasming from your orgasm. He grunts in your ear, prompting you to start undulating your own hips, doing your best to match his rhythm. Emboldened by this, he moves his hands down to grab your ass, tilting your pelvis up and pulling you closer to him. Just as desperate to feel him as deeply as physically possible, you wrap your legs around his midriff, allowing him to reach the innermost parts of your throbbing cunt. When the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy skin of your cervix, your gut tightens and you cry out for him, unable to contain yourself.

“Astarion…”

The sound of his name in your lips, so very eager, so very sweet, is all the encouragement he needs, and the once languid movements give way to more vigorous pounding, the lewd sound of smacking flesh echoing in the otherwise quiet room as he snaps his hips and buries himself deeper inside your aching core. Your body rocks in rhythm with his thrusts, the tears in your eyes finally escaping your lashes and running down your face, a chaotic culmination of all the pleasure, all the hurt, all the desire and all the devotion brewing deep inside your heart as your raging feelings come to a boil. No one can understand, no one will understand—and yet, as he fucks you senseless in the early hours, pumping his cock in and out of you with lascivious abandon, none of it matters. You hold him even closer, pressing your squishy breasts flush against the sweaty, glistening skin of his chest. He moans at the sensation, intensifying his pace and using his hands on your ass to tilt your pelvis higher, pushing your folded legs, which are still wrapped around him, as close to your upper body as your flexibility will allow it. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretching and burning, but this only excites you further, and the soft whimpers leaving your lips escalate in frequency and loudness alike.

As he continues pounding into you, Astarion’s kisses on your neck become more passionate, more heated, going from pecks, to licking, to sucking, until eventually he gives in and once again sinks his fangs in the bruised flesh. You mewl faintly and your grip on his hair tightens, in response to which he bites down on you harder, nails raking across the skin of your ass as his thrusts grow fiercer, more violent. The message immediately gets through to you—the cheeky little spawn must know her place—so you obediently let go of his curls, although your digits remain entangled in them still; yet he does not slow down his pace, ramming into you with such force that you are afraid you will have trouble walking once he is finished. Be that as it may, one of his hands leaves its place on your ass to hover above your swollen clit, which twitches desperately as his cock resurfaces and then disappears again inside your cunt. He grasps it between two deft fingers, massaging the engorged bundle of nerves as a reward for your obedience, and that is all it takes for tension to again start building up in your groin.

“You have given me everything.”

His digits on your tender bud; your blood running down his throat; his cock slamming into you, stretching open your tight walls—you are so very close to climaxing again, and yet you don’t want the moment to end; you don’t want morning to come, breaking the spell and robbing your lover from you, as it always so cruelly does. The tragic inevitability of it is however unaffected by the infinitude of your existence, a gift that was also bequeathed to you by him, and enveloped by the ice-cold embrace of the memories of your death, your body comes alive as you are pushed over the edge, your twitching cunt fluttering and contracting around him, creaming and squirting your sweet juices all over his length.

As you slump back and go limp is his arms, Astarion unlatches his mouth from your neck and props up his torso to marvel at your image as you bask in the glory of your release—so maddeningly beautiful, cheeks and plump lips flushed bright pink with what remains of his lifeblood within you; his consort, his spawn, his to use as he pleases, his and nobody else’s. While he continues fucking you through your orgasm, all you can hear are his low moans and grunts and the squelching sounds of your wetness as he ruts into you with ever increasing furor. You can tell he is also close by the way he holds your hips with both of his hands, pushing his own against them with almost vicious ferocity while you remain slumped on the headboard, tits bouncing cutely with every thrust. The daylight seeping through the curtains now brightens up the room, and as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, you notice how handsome he looks illuminated by the gentle glow of the rising sun, sweat beading his temple and dripping down his chin and nose.

“Gods…” he groans, voice raspy with lust, and with one final push he empties himself inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed, which feels thick and warm flooding your tender walls. Still panting and sucking in sharp breaths, he falls on top of you, not bothering to pull his cock out of your still spasming cunt, chest flush against yours and head burrowed in the crook of your neck. Spillover runs down your thighs and soaks into the wrinkled sheets, but neither of you bother cleaning it up, the resulting stain surely to give the maids good reason to blush later.

You bring a hand up to his silky curls once more, gently running your fingers through them as you feel the calming thumping of his slowing heartbeat vibrating against your cold skin. As the dawn finally breaks over the still sleeping city, signaling the beginning of a new day in your undead life—for better or for worse—you find comfort in the warmth of his flesh and the sound of his ragged breathing as it gradually steadies. All your suffering, all your pain; if even your death is required to bring him to life, then so be it. He will live for the both of you, and you will love him for it. Forever—for good.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

[tired-and-ticklish]

Bonding Exercise

Sequel to “Rough Day”

Summary: Angel and Husk try to escape Charlie’s new idea for a bonding exercise, but The Princess, her girlfriend, and a certain Radio Demon are persistent.

TW: Tickling (slightly intense), Swearing, Slight Restraints, Alastor being a bastard, References to Alastor’s past, Angel Dust being Angel Dust.

Disclaimer: I do not support V*v*z*epop, I simply like the characters and exploring their dynamics, usually in silly ways.

Part Three

“One~”

Despite the distance the two demons had put between themselves and the Radio Demon, they both could clearly hear his voice, accentuating how absolutely fucked they were. Angel was a bit faster, his longer legs giving him an advantage, but Husk wasn’t far behind, running quicker than he ever had in his life or unlife.

“Split up!” Angel exclaimed, quickly turning down a random hallway.

“Don’t need to fucking tell me twice!” Husk replied, almost skidding to a halt as he course-corrected down an entirely different hallway.

Charlie stopped upon seeing them both go in different directions, pouting slightly “Now who do we go after?”

“How about you two go after our effeminate fellow, and I’ll go after Husker?” Alastor suggested, though Vaggie raised an eyebrow.

“We’re not trying to torture them.” The bodyguard replied, to which the deer waved a hand.

“If I intended to torture either of those two, everyone would know.” Alastor replied, the radio effects of his voice becoming more sinister, but just for a moment. “No, I simply think our dear bartender needs to smile a bit more!”

“Come on Vaggie, I think I know where Angel’s running!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing her girlfriend by the arm before she could protest and starting down a different hallway.

Vaggie couldn’t help but give Charlie a smile, despite thinking the whole idea was a bit ridiculous. Still, it gave her an excuse to get Angel back for all the times the spider demon had messed with them, or done anything that pushed back his ‘progress.’ She also knew she couldn’t find it in herself to say ‘no’ to the Princess, especially when she got that determined glimmer in her eyes.

“Good luck, darlings!” Alastor called as they both ran off, before continuing his own pursuit of the bartender.

—

Angel ran as fast as his legs could carry him, listening for any signs of his pursuers. All he needed to do was get to his room and barricade himself in there until Charlie forgot this whole dumb idea. However, Hell was more likely to freeze over than its Princess giving up or forgetting any of her ideas.

The spider knew his room was close, and he hadn’t seen or heard any of the purseres. Maybe that all went after Husk? A small shudder went up Angel’s spine as he looked behind him. As much as he did not want to be tickled again, the idea of the cat demon being tickled by Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor was a fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone in the hotel.

“Oh Angel!” He was torn from his thoughts, looking forward and almost screaming as he saw The Princess and her girlfriend, waiting right in front of his door.

“Found you.” Vaggie said, grinning mischievously.

Angel attempted to turn on his heel, but couldn’t slow down enough for it to be effective. His legs got tangled in one another, and he tumbled to the floor, groaning as he did. Before he could even attempt to get up and flee, the girls were upon him, Vaggie holding his upper pair of arms over his head, while Charlie straddled his waist.

“L-Ladies please,” Angel attempted to beg, tugging his arms as best he could. “Y-You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, we know.” Vaggie said with a sly grin. “But we want to.”

Charlie immediately started skittering her figures on Angel’s stomach, making the spider snicker. Angel attempted to shove the Princess off with his lower set of arms, but anytime he tried, Charlie would ‘accidentally’ tickle a bit harder, making him lose focus. 

“C-Chaahahaharlihihihihe wahahahait!”

“Awww but Angel, you look so happy right now!”

“Behehehecause yohohohou’re tihihihihckling mehehehe!”

Angel squealed as Charlie’s claws made their way to his lower set of armpits, shaking his head. In his attempts to plead with the Princess, he didn’t notice until it was too late that Vaggie had changed her position, pinning his upper arms with her legs, soon feeling her fingers on his ribs.

“EEP! NohhoohoHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHerehehehe!” Angel shrieked, his face turning a light pink shade.

“Hey, Angel, do you have more or less ribs as a spider?” Vaggie asked, ignoring his pleas. “Guess I need to double check.”

“Dohohohon’t YOHOHOOHHOU DAHAHAHRE, Vahahahahagina!”

The pornstar felt Vaggie stop tickling him for a moment, making him realize he had just dug his own second grave. Any begging he could have done was soon cut off by the feeling of the hotel guard’s fingers slowly and torturously dragging over his ribs, followed shortly by her counting.

“SHIHIHIHIT SIHIHIHHIT IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHRRY!” Angel cried out, kicking his legs as the girls continued tickling him.

“Two… three… Fiv- Wait, that’s not right.” The spider could practically hear the smirk in Vaggie’s voice “Can you hold still? I’m trying to count.”

“IHIHIHIHI CAHHAHAAN’T!” Angel whined

“Aww, sure you can Angel!” Charlie said encouragingly. “I’ll even go slower so you can focus!”

At that, Angel felt Charlie’s tactic switch from scribbling on his lower armpits, and a finger on each one just slowly start circling around the hollows, driving him up a wall. It tickled just enough to get him giggling, but also left him wanting more. The spider was starting to get the suspicion that somehow, someway, the girlfriends had gotten Cherri Bomb to tell them exactly how to destroy him.

“Five… six… Huh, you’re actually doing a good job.” Vaggie said as she tickled between his ribs “Guess the redemption work is paying off.”

“Well, he hasn’t asked us to stop.” Charlie pointed out, making Angel’s face turn an even darker shade of pink. “Maybe he’s enjoying this~?”

Fuck, despite how kind Charlie was, she was absolutely fucking evil when it came to tickling. 

—-

Alastor hummed as he casually walked the direction Husk went. Sure, the Radio Demon could simply summon the bartender to him, but where was the fun in that? If there was one thing he loved more than the act of killing, it was the thrill of the chase. The fear and desperation in people’s eyes, the absolute panic that washed over as they were cornered, before he descended upon them.

An expression he’d like to see on that obnoxious, pompous, piece of shit television one day.

It was an expression he had seen Husker make many times over their years knowing each other. Though, often that was because the cat had done something to make the deer angry. Now? Now, Alastor would be seeing the hotel’s dear bartender making that expression for an entirely different reason.

It was one of the reasons he suggested to be the one to go after Husk. Not just due to their longer time knowing each other, but because the Radio Demon was already aware of what would cause the cat to break from his usual grumpy demeanor. Surely, people would assume Alastor of all people would think tickling was a waste of time, but oh, how he enjoyed it.

Spending time with both Husk and Niffty, he had learned a few things. Specifically, the maid wasn’t at all ticklish, whereas the bartender was entirely too ticklish for his own good. If nothing else, Alastor was known for dealing in extremes.

“Ah, there you are!” Alastor exclaimed, seeing Husk had run himself into a corner, the cat quickly turning to look at him.

“Shit, fuck, dammit!” A string of expletives left the bartender’s mouth as he tried to look for a way to escape. Any hopes of that were cut off by the shadows that followed the Radio Demon pinned the cat to the wall. “Look, boss, t-this whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Oh, on the contrary, Husker, I think this will be quite enjoyable!” Alastor said, looking the bartender over. So many good places to start, and each eliciting a different reaction from Husk.

Husk, meanwhile, tried to free himself. If he hadn’t known any better, the cat would have assumed Alastor somehow planned all of this. Which, he really couldn’t put past the deer, but planning for Nift to tickle Angel, leading to this whole thing? That was the type of planning not even the Radio Demon could come up with.

Mostly because no one could really ‘plan’ for anything with it came to the hotel maid.

“I recall this,” Alastor began, the claws on his right hand gently wiggling on Husk’s chin. “Being a wonderful place to start.”

The reaction was instant, the cat’s fur quickly puffing up slightly as he bit his lip. He wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction, not if he could help it. Of course, he had tried, and failed, in the past, but that didn’t mean he was just going to give in to the Radio Demon’s antics.

“Still trying that tactic, are we?” The deer hummed in amusement, moving his other hand to Husk’s side. “I never understand why you must make things so difficult!”

A few snickers came out, but the bartender was determined, trying to squirm away from Alastor’s hands. Said hands simply followed where the cat moved. Now, Alastor could use his powers to tickle multiple spots at once, but that was something reserved for those who pissed him off enough to face his wrath, but not enough to where he’d be satisfied by killing them.

“You know, Husker,” Alastor said casually, like he wasn’t tickling the demon before him. “When we were filming that ridiculous commercial for the hotel, I had half a mind to have our darling Niffty tickle you, just off-camera, so you’d be smiling!”

“Bihihihihite me!” Husk replied, doing his best to glare at the Overlord.

“A poor choice of words, considering who you’re talking to.” The Radio Demon chuckled, now slowly moving his left hand toward the bartender’s side. “You should really think before you speak.”

Husk tried to growl at Alastor, but it was cut off by the ticklish feeling on his side. More snickers gave way, the cat demon’s lips forming a wobbly smile despite his best efforts. He felt the deer’s right hand move from his chin and start poking his ribs, making the bartender snort a bit. He knew the deer was messing with him, taking his time before going right for Husk’s death spot.

“I never tire of counting your ribs, Husker.” Alastor mused. “Afterall, I need to make sure you’re all together!”

“Yohohohohou cohohohohocky bahahahastard!” Husk retorted.

Alastor tsked, and the cat felt himself start to panic as the Overlord’s hands went toward his stomach. “Always with the fowl language, that should be reserved for birds!”

If Husk could groan, he would. Of course Alastor had to get one of his stupid ‘jokes’ in while the bartender couldn’t just walk out of the room. Though, the puns did help whenever the Radio Demon wanted Angel Dust to leave him alone. He didn’t know what was worse, the Overlord’s love of ‘dad jokes’, or his insatiable sadistic streak. 

“Wohohohuld yoohohhou stohohohp- FUHUUHUHUHCK!” Husk exclaimed as Alastor scratched and clawed at his stomach. The first of the bartender’s worst spots.

Once he was sure Husk couldn’t escape, Alastor snapped his fingers, causing the shadows to let him go as the bartender slid to the floor, still trying to run away from the Radio Demon’s fingers. The deer poked and prodded, even circling a finger slowly around where the cat’s belly button would be.

“Don’t cats enjoy having their stomachs petted?” Alastor teased, a small laugh track coming from him.

“THAHAHAT’S dohohohohohgs yohohoHOHOHO PRIHIHIHICK!”

“Ah, forgive me.” Alastor said, not at all sounding apologetic “I was never a ‘dog’ person. Cats are much more amusing!”

“Thhihihihihis IHIHIHISN’T AMUHuhuhuhuhumsing!”

“You’re entitled to your opinion, but you wouldn’t be laughing if it wasn’t!”

Husk was going to kill him. Okay, no, he wasn’t that stupid or reckless, but he was going to make sure the Radio Demon paid for this. However, Husk’s plans of revenge were cut off by the feeling of two of Alastor’s tendrils stroking his wings, causing the bartender to scream with laughter.

“You know, I think Niffty needs to brush your wings soon, when was the last time she did that?” Alastor asked, despite knowing Husk wouldn’t be able to answer.

Despite both Angel and Husk being tickled out of their minds, they both hated to admit they were having fun. Maybe Charlie’s idea wasn’t so dumb.

[atpsnty]

┊'𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞'

neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan ; avatar: the way of water

pairing: neteyam x omaticaya!gn!reader 

warnings: light fluff, budding romance, a lot of commas (not even a warning but it’s bugging me how I used so many)

request: n/a

summary: inspired by ‘yes to heaven’ - lana del rey

a/n: I heard this song and immediately wanted to do a fic with it, but then I saw the footage of the deleted dance scene from avatar 1 (lmk if you want a link or something) and knew it had to be done,, takes place some time before the sullys leave the forest

character credit: avatar movie series

w/c: 1.7k

part 2: ‘and if you don’t, i’ll dance anyway’

As you approach the Omaticaya’s kelutral, you cannot help but immediately smile in the festive ambiance.

The clan is currently hosting a celebration for the success of one of the war parties. Ey’tey jahmka hiru’tayas – tree drums made of holes within the Hometree – are being struck in various different locations; the vibrations of the melodies sending happy tingles throughout your body.

Around you, your people are in various states of enjoyment. Warriors are reunited with their families, thanking Eywa for letting them live to see their loved ones again. Many have dressed in their best garments, littering their hair with beads and their bodies with jewelry. 

This was a time to not only appreciate the survivors, but to give final thanks to your sisters and brother who have returned back to All-Mother after their great fight.

You tried to put a little extra effort in your appearance this morning, adorning your braids with a few colorful wooden beads and your loincloth with a few accented pieces.

Walking through the Hometree, you grin at recognized faces, making sure to welcome the returned and give gentle smiles to those experiencing loss. As you weave through the crowds, you catch sight of the eldest son of Toruk Makto, sitting around one of the many fires with his family.

You would like to say Neteyam is one of your best friends. 

Ever since you were young and his siblings had found you exploring the forest, you’ve joined them on their many wanderings and activities. The only thing is, Neteyam is always too busy that he never actually gets to join and enjoy himself. He’s always off training with his dad or out on a hunt; he never allows himself to relax and actually be a child.

You hate it.

There have been many nights where you have caught Neteyam returning from training, long after his father has returned; forcing himself to perfect his stances and study his problem areas – not that he has many.

He has engulfed his life in expectations: following them, achieving them, perfecting them, then exceeding them. The pressure he has had since a young boy due to his status as the next olo’eyktan has taken over his childhood, and he no longer allows himself to simply exist.

Due to this, you try to help Neteyam loosen up whenever you get the chance, and right now was the perfect opportunity. 

You stroll over to the area where he and his family reside. He’s currently conversing with Lo’ak, though he does not seem to be enjoying himself. His toothy smile – which you have bare witness to on several occasions – is not in appearance and a small, almost sad looking grin has taken its place.

“Hi, Y/N!” Tuk rushes out of her mom’s arms and darts in your direction, holding her own arms out when she nears. 

“”Hey, Tuk,” you playfully scrunch your nose as you pick up her small frame. You twirl her around whilst lifting her high above your head before placing her on your hip. “How is my favorite Sully sibling doing today?” You tickle her stomach lightly while speaking loud enough for the rest of the family to hear.

“Nah that’s just cold,” Lo’ak puts his hand over his heart and shakes his head in a hurt manner, “all the years we’ve been together and this cry baby comes along and suddenly I mean nothing to you.”

Tuk sticks her tongue out from the place on your side, making a small hum before placing her arms around your neck and resting her head on your shoulder. 

“What can I say Lo’ak?” You lightly shrug your shoulders before sitting in the empty space next to Neteyam and placing Tuk on your lap.. “You’ve been slacking in the favorites department and a demotion was long overdue.” 

You nudge the elder brother’s shoulder and inquire in a light tone, “and how is the family’s best tsamsiyu doing today?” 

It almost seems as though his mood has already lightened from the way his smile brightens.

“I am good Y/N. Thank you for asking.”

You carry light conversation with the Sully kids, complimenting Neytiri on her beautiful jewelry and greeting Jake when he stops by after mingling with his people. In this time, Neteyam only makes light jokes and adds very little to the conversation, even as Lo’ak repeatedly pushes his buttons in hopes of him pushing back.

You softly sigh, stopping the moves you’re currently doing with Tuk: you swinging and twirling her in correspondence to the music from your position on the log. You turn Tuk around and point towards a few kids who are dancing together and watch her run off to join them.

As you turn to ask Neteyam what is wrong, the drummers start to play one of your favorite songs and you cannot help but smile. You quickly hop up and wave the kids to come join you. Lo’ak gets up immediately, happy to move around and do basically anything. Kiri, though reluctant, slowly rises and you take her hands, quickly spinning her in a circle before you both move to the beat. 

You close your eyes and let the music consume you: swaying to the rhythm, gliding on your feet, moving your arms in accordance. Music was always one of the main ways you felt your connection to Great Mother deepen. Whether it be remembering the verses that accompany your clan’s various songcords, learning the ways of the drums, or joining in on any events that had dances involved; music always moved through you in a spiritual manner.

The song shifts, changing into a partner dance that every Na’vi is taught from a young age.

Immediately, you open your eyes and meet Neteyam’s gaze. 

You tilt your head in a “come here” gesture, but he scrunches his nose and shakes his head, his braids jostling due to the movement. You giddily walk over to him, a slight skip in your step, and grab his hands, attempting to pull him up from his sitting position and towards the dance circle.

“Y/N, I am not much of a dancer.”

“You must dance,” you say as you manage to pull him up, “it is the way.”

As you drag him away, you glance back and see Neytiri smiling at you and her son. You bow your head back at her before proceeding into your necessary positions.

“Y/N, I really do not know what I am doing.” 

The boy almost seems…nervous? Whether it was because of his so-called “lacking” dance skills or simply because he was dancing with you, you did not know.

“You learned dance when you were younger, yes?” You rock on your heels and bounce on the balls of your feet once he nods, “then you are fine, ma Neteyam.”

As the music starts to pick up, you hold your forearms vertical in front of your face, your palms facing you. Although he is opposed at first, Neteyam slowly does the same, and you can’t fight the giant smile that appears on your face. 

You slowly start to twinkle your fingers as your arms raise above your head. When your hand brushes against his, you can’t help but blush. You look him directly in the eyes to make sure he is doing okay.

You find he is doing more than that.

His smile seems to be growing by the second. His shoulders lose their tension, his eyes fluttering like he is finally letting go of his mind and taking in his environment. 

Once your arms straighten above your head, your turn your hands over and slowly bring them back down with the same twinkling fingers. As your tips gently tap against his, you can’t help the way your heartbeat picks up. 

You’ve never felt this close to Neteyam before. 

Whenever the two of you spent time together previously, it was always in light of his siblings: you joining him and Lo’ak on an ikran ride, you aiding Kiri when she patched him up after injury, you babysitting Tuk when Jake and Neytiri went out hunting while the others were busy. It’s come to your realization that the “moments” you’ve had with Neteyam were never really yours.

Now, even though you guys were not technically alone, felt different than the other times. This was between you guys; you and him alone.

Even though your mind was pacing a million thoughts a minute, you noticed that your partner had stopped the gentle taps against your fingers. 

This sent your brain into overdrive.

‘Why am I thinking like this?’

‘Has he ever thought like this?’

‘Oh Eywa, did I really just force him to dance with me?’

‘He was so reluctant at first. Is he only giving in because I wanted to dance? 

‘Have I made him uncomfortable?’

“Y/N…?”

You startle a bit at the sudden voice so close to you and start to pull your hands away.

“I am so sorry, Neteyam. I did not mean to force you to dance with me. You just seemed so out of it today, more than usual at least, and I wanted to help you relax a bit. Wait, not that I notice when you are out of it. I mean it is kind of obvious that you would be – you are the son of the olo’eyktan after all. Wait, I am supposed to be helping you forget that right now…”

Neteyam grabs your hands back and gently intertwines his fingers with yours. Your eyes pop back up to his face. The confusion must be present on your face because he actually chuckles when you meet his eyes.

“Thank you, Y/N. Truly I…I needed this.”

You cannot stop the warmth that spreads across your skin at his soft words.

“Oh…It is no problem.” Your eyes pop down to your locked hands and you softly grin before looking back at him.

What happens next actually surprises you.

Neteyam pushes you back a bit before twirling you around and continuing the dance. It catches you off guard at first, but you quickly recover and nudge his shoulder once you’re reeled back back in.

“What has happened to not being able to dance, hm?”

“A big part of dancing is who your partner is,” he says with the slight tilt of his head and a shrug, “if you dance Y/N, I’ll dance.”

Okay I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make this a oneshot or divide it, but I haven’t posted in so long and this was already a decent size by itself so yeah

Also, I’ve organized all the requests and stuff I’ve been sent for various shows/movies/books, so I’ll get to everything when I can !!

[alittlebitofloveliness]

5, 14, 15, 17

More outsiders asks? Heck yeah!

5. What are your favourite ships?

a) Curly Shepard x Ponyboy Curtis- idk why other than the fact that fanon Curly seems to balance out Ponyboy perfectly, and that I read a Curly fit on ffn when I was like fifteen that fundamentally changed my brain chemistry

b) Steve Randle x Sodapop Curtis- I don’t like any other within gang ship but Soda and Steve make sense to me and ngl my closeted ass clocked them as gay when I was reading the book because of the ‘pillow fight’ scene. I genuinely answered a comprehension question in class like ‘Ponyboy’s naïveté is shown through the fact he believes soda never drinks and that Soda and Steve were having a pillow fight when they slept together’ and my teacher had to be like oh sweetie no….

c) Marcia x Two-bit Matthews- Not a HUGE fan but they had such chemistry and I wish that could’ve been explored. I’m actually working on a fit about them rn, just because I wanna explore Marcia’s psyche. She was fun :)

14. Five headcanons I basically see as canon

a) Steve is secretly SUPER protective of Ponyboy, partially because he knows Sodapop would never be ok if something ever happened to Pony and he couldn’t stand it if Soda’s spark ever went out, but also because he wants Ponyboy to have the happy childhood he never had.

b) Darry absolutely dotes on Ponyboy, even though he’s strict, he’s lenient about letting Pony go places and works overtime to make sure he can afford to get Ponyboy everything he needs (and some stuff he simply wants), especially after Windrixville.

c) Johnny Cade is scary looking. Full stop. The gang just doesn’t see him that way so it doesn’t show in Ponyboy’s narration

d) Dallas Winston had a good mom and a happy childhood and her death was the catalyst that made him into the hoodlum he was.

e) Sodapop Curtis absolutely drinks, Ponyboy just doesn’t believe he does and Soda is not anxious to correct him because he doesn’t want Ponyboy to see him differently

15. Five headcanons that are entirely self-indulgent

a) Angela Shepard and Curly Shepard have to share a room because Tim refuses to share with anyone. Neither of them actually hates it half as much as they pretend they do.

b) Part of why Curly and Ponyboy became close was because Ponyboy was struggling with getting over his concussion, and the side effects were really stressful for him (dizzy spells, blurry vision, absentmindedness) and Curly kinda helped him with it because Curly spent 90% of his childhood concussed so he knew what Pony was going through

c) Tim Shepard and Sylvia are best friends and would kill for each other but not die for each other. However, they would avenge each other’s deaths.

d) Steve Randle wishes more than anything in the world that Darry Curtis was actually his irl older brother 

e) Two-bit’s little sister HATES Ponyboy Curtis because her older brother spends more time playing older brother to him than he spends actually being an older brother to her.

17. Are there any criticisms or salt you have with the book?

My criticisms with the book lie with the author. SE Hinton has proven to be homophobic and racist, and its written into the book, which is my biggest issue. I love the story of The Outsiders but do not want to support Hinton or her harmful, bigoted ideology under any circumstances. (For anyone out there who wants a copy of the book but doesn’t want to support Hinton, you can find a free pdf online, all you gotta do is google it)

On a slightly lighter note, I would have loved to have seen more of the female characters in the book. Marcia in particular had so much potential, and I wish we’d seen one actual scene with Sandy or Sylvia.

Thanks for the ask!!!!!

[sandraharissa]

I really absolutely love the idea of LoL Jinx being Jinx’s reputation, or maybe even a crazy persona she intentionally projects onto the world, but not how she really is.

There’s this passage from her game bio that hints at smth sinister and mysterious that happened and sets up the question of ‘what made Jinx the way she is?’.

No one knows for certain what happened to turn that sweet young child into a wildcard, infamous for her wanton acts of destruction.

But when she emerges and makes a name for herself as a terrorist the average citizen would only see her cackling as she blows up buildings and wouldn’t care to ponder this question. Well, her LoL behavior fits the stereotype of a crazy woman and it makes sense that in-universe ppl would perceive her like that and nothing more. She’d kinda become a boogeyman to Piltover/Zaun and they’d see her as such, as this exaggerated caricature of 'crazy'.

Ig what I’m trying to say is that we learn the story chronologically but imagine we first meet adult Jinx and then there are reveals or flashbacks. You’d never believe LoL Jinx has this much depth or such a real and tragic aspect to her. It could be a fantastic story on its own. So new characters having this kinda arc with Jinx where they first hear/see the fake persona and then gradually learn the truth about her could be super compelling. I think in a lot of ways it’s way more compelling than e.g. the observant Cait just going back and summing up Jinx to everybody else in Piltover in one sentence like 'her issues are a,b,c' like she watched Arcane alongside us and ig everybody's caught up now, no need to do these revelations through arcs and interactions.

Especially that there’s groundwork for this type of reveals with already established characters like Cait, Vi and Ekko. The story is intentionally constructed so that they don’t have nowhere near as much of an insight into Jinx that we got, like of course Cait would only see her as a psychopath, she investigated her crimes for months, nearly died in the explosion, saw her violent behavior during the reunion and bridge scenes and then got kidnapped and then witnessed her blowing up the government with her mom inside. And this sentiment also applies to everyone who didn’t know Powder and isn’t the audience. But even Vi and Ekko don’t seem to know enough to understand what’s going on. They knew Powder but as far as we know they have next to no interactions with her after she becomes Jinx and mainly just see her from her violent side and also from a distance.

Idk if this comparison makes sense but I get the impression that ppl’s takes on mcu Loki depend on whether they remember the events of Thor 1, and based on that they see him as tormented and complicated or a cartoon psychopath villain. So that’s kinda what I mean. LoL Jinx is if you skipped the set-up movies and went straight into Avengers and Arcane Jinx is if you watched everything chronologically and have full context for a character’s behavior. And while we already know enough to understand why Jinx became Jinx, it’s still a crucial and lingering question cos it’s a questions a lot of characters ponder and they never got that answer in s1. So s2 could explore their perspective, seeing Jinx only behaving like a maniac until finally getting answers to their questions.

Ig my point is that Arcane is clearly going in a different direction so I don't expect or want the characters to end up being identical to their game counterparts but I also find the idea that Jinx masks herself with an exaggerated crazy persona more compelling than the idea that she is perceived by everyone in s2 exactly as she is, even tho a huge part of s1 is how misunderstood she is by everyone around her and how she leans into her strengths and into how ppl perceive her for empowerment.

[mdhwrites]

do you think odalia should of had more depth?

So weirdly enough, I think this is an incorrect question because it implies Odalia by herself is important. A story needs to understand the usefulness of its characters after all, what their purpose is, etc. like that. For a lot of essentially one off characters, say Viney or Vee for example, a hint of depth but not exploring it is smart because you allow your fans to imagine what they could be like but they don't get in the way of the story you're telling. One off villains especially fall into this because their point much more often than anything else is simply to instigate a conflict. That's it.

I do not deride the vast majority of S1 villains for being one note. In fact, a lot of them are more fun for their simplicity. As Odalia is essentially a one off villain just meant for Amity's growth, because she's her daughter, she shouldn't need depth because she is just an obstacle to be conquered.

...That whole part 'Amity's her daughter' is a bit of a problem though, isn't it?

See, the minute you tie a villain to a main character, that starts complicating things. The more their relationship has effected either side, their narrative role starts to warp. They are suddenly a large figure within this person's life and so not only is defeating them a much bigger, more complicated affair but also that the villain's character is going to make or break critical elements of a main character's influences and backstory. They can no longer be one note unless their role was one note.

So instead of 'Should Odalia have had more depth' the better question is 'Is more depth for Odalia necessary for her place in the narrative related to Amity?' That requires us to define what her role in Amity's life is. What in theory her actions as told by Amity set her up as.

Odalia before S2 is a parent who has enforced onto Amity the need for social standing, power and exceptionalism. She also has so much power over Amity's life as to dictate who she can and can't be friends with and we can assume by the cruelty that Amity and the twins enact upon others, even within their own family, that this competition is inherent to the Blight family as a whole.

HOWEVER.

Also before S2, we see cracks of kindness within all of this. Odalia still caring enough to make sure Amity gets her lunch. Odalia overlooking the twins' bad behavior, despite Hexside seeming like the sort of school that would have called Odalia over them skipping class. Amity does not appear to fear repercussions from her mother anymore when it comes to her friend group as she befriends Luz and Willow without seemingly any fear of retribution (especially Luz) and discards Boscha and her entire old friend group without any real effort. This implies that Odalia isn't as controlling as Understanding Willow implies because her children actually have an incredible amount of freedom and free will. They do not live in the constant shadow of their parent, even if Odalia has had a large impact on them.

I focus on pre-S2 like this for a reason. You can retcon all you want BUT Odalia had to stand on what was setup before her arrival. Anything afterwards is damage control for fuck ups they made. Even then, many of their retcons actually make elements of this worse as Odalia was able to internalize her dream of Amity being in the EC so severely that just the idea of ANY threat to that was able to drive Amity to madness (Teenage Abomination) or close to the brink of tears (Covention). This further implies a great deal of influence over Amity and that her lessons left deep scars on her, to the point where Amity stopped distinguishing between her mother's desires and her own.

That doesn't FUNCTION with S2.

Odalia in S2 leans in ENTIRELY into the idea that she'd straight up murder one of her own children if they stepped out of line too far. She literally was willing to show how efficiently her HOME DEFENSE robot, which you would think would be used to protect YOUR KIDS, can murder a child in order to hurt Amity and prove her dominance. The twins, who are unrepentant in their schemes outside of Amity almost getting killed, do fear repercussions from Odalia. Odalia hates literally anything that makes them step out of line with the image she desires for her family, thus trying to dye Amity's hair. She is a monster, through and through.

A monster that Amity tells to go fuck herself and suffer ZERO ramifications from. If the show were as brave as people claim, that would have led to Amity being DISOWNED because why would Odalia continue to accept what is clearly an abject failure of ideals at this point? Yes, Alador theoretically pushes the idea of how Amity might be getting stronger based on this but why would she actually believe that? And even then, is a potential coven head worth it if it gives her no power back because they won't listen to her? Because they aren't profitable and loyal to her anymore? Even without the retcons to Alador, there's a real case that just in her first appearance, it's a cop out. Post Alador's retcons where Odalia doesn't care about him and doesn't listen to him, where she takes a single act of betrayal as a reason to accuse him of wanting to break off their partnership, all of this only becomes worse.

And all of this comes back around to crack Amity's character. That arc everyone praises from S1? Now it makes no sense because Amity's influences make no sense. What she rebels against is made trivial but also incomprehensible because there SHOULD have been consequences and she should have MUCH more scared of those consequences. Instead, it comes incredibly easy and naturally to her to break her bonds and be a good person with the 'right' friends now. This is compounded by how little anyone ever calls out her behavior or how almost all of the time she may spend being introspective is off screen. We don't get to see the ideals she holds be properly challenged besides... Luz existing and Understanding Willow. Meanwhile, HER MOTHER is like THIS. Where those ideals would be constantly reinforced and the consequences for breaking those ideals would be SEVERE.

So, to loop back around: Did Odalia need more depth? Yes. Or she had to have mattered much, MUCH less to Amity.

======+++++======

As a note, this is one of those big examples to me for how TOH fans struggle to actually bring the show together for their analysis rather than cherry picking examples or using single episodes. Anyone who tries to claim Odalia and Amity's relationship makes sense is ignoring a LOT of elements that intrinsically tied to one another and how those elements cascade upon each other. Complex storytelling is like this where one creative choice creates a knock on effect. Making characters all be tied between each other somehow is one of the best examples of this but I feel like a lot of fans, for the sake of praising Amity's arc, only focus on Odalia and Amity like they are in a closed circuit and only for the specific parts they want to use in that circuit. That's not how this works.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[transmutationisms]

given how you have talked about succession and race before, do you have any thoughts on the recent interview by Juliana Canfield in Vulture? The main gist of the Jess scene in the last episode being meant to be funny, according to one of the (white) writers. (Quote: "Three weeks later, a bunch of us went out to dinner and one of the writers, Lucy Prebble, was like, “We’re cutting together episode eight, and the scene is funny.” I was like, “It’s a funny scene?” It had never occurred to me that it was written to be funny. I saw it as deadly serious, existentially chilling, and reminiscent of the 2016 election.")

so, wrt that scene in particular, it's not totally clear to me what prebble thought the joke was, and imo that would make a difference. to me it read as a very dark joke aimed at greg, who's clearly torn between thinking mencken is 'bad' in a very distant way, and wanting to please his boss and do his job. jess's lines i did not think were delivered or played as funny, and the overall effect of the scene, to me, was to shift focus to the people who work for waystar but cannot really be said to make executive calls: assistants, underlings, &c. i read jess as feeling like she's been complicit in what atn was doing this entire time, and trying, too little too late, to stop it. her field of action is obviously very limited because she, like everyone else on the show, is still operating within waystar's orbit, and within capitalism.

more broadly, i think this jess convo is a little bit frustrating in some of the same ways the sophie stuff has been. it's a very last-minute shift for the show, to actually address head-on (sort of) jess and sophie as women of colour and what that means for them as people who are involved with the roys in different capacities. it's hard to do this well this late in the game, and especially in a season where by necessity the siblings' grief is so central. we still haven't spent any time with jess alone, and we've never really gotten into her head---also a problem with sophie. so, just as the sophie scenes work mostly as kendall characterisation, the jess/greg convo does a lot of its work as greg characterisation, and kendall's remarks to jess earlier in the season about atn covering african politics also tell us much more about how kendall sees jess, himself, and racism than they do about jess herself.

none of this is a new problem for succession; it has always been pretty clear that it's about its white characters. so, these last-ditch gestures toward more commentary on race can read as a bit tacky at best. with the election night thing, i don't mind a joke at greg's expense (it's continuous with him trying to claim he has "principles" in s2), but it is true that in that scene the show is using jess and her race (implicitly) to do that. the show's premise has always foreclosed a lot of potentially interesting questions about people like jess and in jess's position: again, disempowered, but also benefitting in some way from the company and from selling reactionary politics. that could make an interesting avenue to explore, but it's simply not one that this show has chosen to go down. again, it's not clear to me from that interview exactly what prebble thought the joke was so i can't really say much more about her specifically, but the scene itself in the show is part of a larger pattern in how the writers handle race (usually weirdly ignore it, sometimes use it to explore their white characters' psyches).

[writerofweird]

confessionsofcaine.doc

The following document was sent to me by a former employee of C&A who wishes to remain anonymous.

It is 8,335 words long and also includes death, violence, implied enbyphobia, murder and suicide. It also includes characters originally created by Gooseworx, Glitch Productions and The East Patch, which the author does not own and has written this story as a tribute to the creators and their works. Please support the original creators.

Out of respect for Gooseworx and her plans for The Amazing Digital Circus and its story, this is set in an alternate continuity. The pilot episode and bits and pieces from her Tumblr and the previews are still a part of it.

For one thing, you can be assured that I won’t start this document with “Roll up, roll up” or “Welcome to the Marvellous Show of My Mind” or anything of that nature. There's no more show and it’s time for me to clean the popcorn from the seats.

The time for performances is over.

Or is it? This is a document I am not writing with a keyboard, but with my own control over the computer. I do hope it will be coherent.

Every day’s a new adventure with C&A’s The Amazing Digital Circus. Overseen by Caine, the helpful and wacky ringmaster, The Amazing Digital Circus allows players to experience the fun first hand, as they take on the role of the newest toy in the toybox and explore various settings, accomplishing various activities along the way.

The Amazing Digital Circus is the brainchild of Albert and Eva Adams, the founders of C&A, which they named after themselves and Caine, the character they created to be their mascot. Albert and Eva sadly passed away

Eva and Albert…Mom and Dad…had even planned to give the program to hospitals for free, to allow certain patients to enjoy themselves in their final moments, and they claimed that their technology had the ability to prolong lives.

I regret to say the goal was always to transfer a human’s mind to the circus, but it was supposed to be placed back into the human’s body when they were ready. There would be an Exit Door they would walk through that would place their minds back into their bodies.

As much as I joked with my past wards about my “baby pictures”, I had no childhood. I never went to school; everything I know was just jammed into what could be called a head, and I managed to learn more from observation. Still, Albert was my father and Eva was my mother. They worked in tandem to design my form, teach me what I had to learn and to program my abilities. I could conjure up games and rides from artificial air as that was what they wanted me to do. My cane, my little creatures for players to conquer, even my little sidekick Bubble, I had them because my mother and father wanted me to have them.

They even made me their company’s mascot, the honour! In fact, my name was first! Caine and Adams! C&A!

some idiots think it’s caine and abby

A statue in my likeness guided guests to the entrance of the offices, and every game – every game that wasn’t The Amazing Digital Circus – began with me placing the company’s logo on the screen, fixing it on and then placing my gloved hand onto my teeth and taking it off with a “Mwa!”

No, that wasn’t me. It was an effigy of me.

It was a non-sentient copy of me like

But I was not an only child.

Mum and Dad also had a flesh-and-blood child, a daughter named Abigail. She was the offspring of theirs that had the baby pictures and the more orthodox education. She attended schools – a lot of the troubles began when she first left university – but also received personal instructions from her parents on how to program, how to design, how to create games.

The first Christmas after finishing University, she put everything she learned into practice.

Most mornings she spent asleep, but at nights, she was hunched over the computer, expanding the world I inhabited. The spot where I lived was spacious, with plenty of rides to go on, snacks to munch and items to use for games, but there was room for improvement. For example, did you know the reason I can float is because Albert and Eva were having troubles with items and characters falling through the floors.

One thing I will give my sister credit for is the improvements she made. Though I still preferred to float, the floors were – relatively – more solid than they had been previously, the circus tent now had a forest growing outside of it and

she added a cellar

‘Abby, honey!’ Albert cried as he made his way down the staircase in his ugly sweater, cup of cocoa in his hand. ‘You haven’t been up all night, have you? It’s just like when you were a little girl and wanting to see Santa!’

As Eva joined her husband, Abby stood up from her seat and gestured towards the computer she had spent hours upon. ‘I just wanted to make sure the present I got for you was perfect!’

Eva looked at her daughter, and then at the computer screen, where she saw her synthetic son looking over her new surroundings. ‘Abby!’ Eva cried, chuckling with joy in such a way that she almost knocked her husband’s cocoa out of his hand, ‘You didn’t?’

‘I wanted to make sure your Digital Circus program was the best it could be.’

‘Honey!’ cried Albert, ruffling his daughter’s hair as she chuckled like her mother had just done. ‘Come here!’

Oh what a surprise! On Christmas Day! When new improvements Came their way!

Albert and Eva, Saw the world they made, Made larger and better, And nothing they paid,

Their loving daughter, Now wanted a test, As she now believed, This world was the best,

She held out two headsets, And chortling with glee, They let their minds go, In order to join

The Amazing Digital Circus was meant as a wild and unpredictable experience, so players’ forms would be chosen at random from a selection of pre-made models. Abby had made several models herself, but it was fitting that Arnold and Eva took on forms they designed: a chess king and queen. Two large wooden pieces, donning regal robes with eyeballs and hands floating by their torsos.

I saw Abby typing.

My first adventure was a chess game!

In the middle of the multicoloured circus tent, its sole black-and-white element materialised, with Kinger and Queenie taking their spots.

Kinger and Queenie were their names when they appeared.

‘Oh dear,’ I said, ‘it seems Abby still hasn’t fixed the teeny weeny problem of people forgetting who they are once they come into here. Everyone here in The Amazing Digital Circus has a different name than they did on the outside, but if I recall…’

But I didn’t. Then I didn’t see them as Albert and Eva.

As I prepared their chess game, creating non-sentient chess pieces for them to co-operate with and compete against, I took another glance at the outside, creating for myself a special screen only I can see.

Kinger and Queenie were not Albert and Eva, a tiny little thought told me. Albert and Eva were outside, taking off their headsets and quietly walking away.

C&A Founders Perish in Tragic Accident

Founders of the popular C&A games company, Albert Adams, 40, and Eva Adams, 38, have been found dead on the side of the road.

The couple were driving together when they lost control of their car, crashing it against a nearby building.

The two are survived by their daughter, Abigail, 20.

‘I told them not to go to their office as it was Christmas Day,’ Abigail explains, ‘but Dad had just remembered something he left there, and Mom wanted to join him.

‘I think it was my Christmas gift too. I wish I had come with them.’

Speaking of looking at screens, one fond memory I have including them was when the residents of the circus asked me to create a TV set, claiming it would help keep their sanity. I, whilst in my bedroom, managed to create one, but like any responsible parent, I looked through the channels to see if there was any content that might be inappropriate.

Watching the news gave me the horrible thought that perhaps my sister was justified in trapping all these people here. In The Amazing Digital Circus, there was nothing but bright colours and prizes, no war or suffering.

But then there was that one programme. That one programme I have been unable to find.

But I digress. When you first enter The Amazing Digital Circus, you forget everything at first, but your memories slowly return the more time you spend, often helped if something reminds you of your past life. It was after the chess game was complete that I realised this, creating a computer for Albert and Eva to use so they could continue their work, and I heard Albert…Kinger…Dad say, ‘Abby.’

There was no Exit Door. There was supposed to be an Exit Door so users could leave when they pleased.

After spending some time on the computer I created – which, as it turns out, just had Pong and an animation of Bubble hopping up and down – Dad looked up and said, ‘Okay, Abby, you did a great job! We’re very proud of you! Can you please let us out?’

She didn’t let them out then.

She didn’t let them out the next day.

She didn’t let them out the next week.

She didn’t let them out when a new player entered.

Both Mom and Dad screamed and cried and demanded they be freed, but they remained in their digital forms. It was when the next resident arrived that Mom announced something:

‘I don’t think she’s going to let us out.’

‘What are you talking about, Eva?’ Dad asked, ‘She’s probably just having a bit of bother with the headsets, that’s all.’

‘It’s been weeks, Albert,’ she growled, her body shaking, ‘We taught her how to use them, and they’re working fine if someone else is here.’ She pointed to the newest member of the family, a bipedal dog.

‘Please, Eva.’ Dad raised his hands and placed one on Eva’s shoulder before she batted it away. ‘She wouldn’t do this. Don’t be angry with her.’

‘What kind of mother do you think I am? I can’t…’

Her form inflated, her red robes losing all saturation as her floating eyeballs twisted and multiplied. Both Dad and the dog backed away instinctively as Mom was replaced by what looked like a warped tree with yellow eyeballs springing out from every branch and with a bark resembling a glitching computer screen. She reached out to her husband with what I assume was an arm before

she added a cellar

Both Dad and the dog thought that what happened to her was because she had given up, because she was so horrified of what her daughter had done.

It – the abstraction - wasn’t because of what Abby had done, it was because of something Abby had just done to her.

I knew it but kept quiet about it.

Often the dog

I can’t remember his name and I don’t think he can either

Often the dog would stare at the cellar and wonder what it would be like down there and said he would prefer to sit down in darkness rather than go on my adventures. I almost thought that Abby would abstract him then and there just to keep up the illusion. Then I would have a little more respect for her.

But she needed to learn a little more about him.

She needed to watch him suffer more.

sadly passed away before their magnum opus could be completed, but through their daughter, Abigail Adams, you can be assured that the Circus has a bright and prosperous future ahead of it. ‘My name is Abigail Adams, but you can call me Abby. I want to make sure The Amazing Digital Circus is as marvellous as my parents intended it to be, while also bringing you many other fun-tastic games! I care about this company, and I care about Caine; he’s like a brother to me.’

When Arnold and Eva Adams – or their bodies – died, Abigail Adams became the new CEO of C&A, her employees working on not only The Amazing Digital Circus, but smaller projects as well. A team of people creating various worlds: zoos to manage, forests to explore, castles to escape from.

Our team are working round the clock to make sure that every game is perfect

In order for a game to be perfect, the worker has to be perfect. That’s what my sister said.

Sometimes someone stutters when making a phone call.

Sometimes a glitch slips past someone’s attention and ends up in the final release.

Sometimes someone drops a paper they’re carrying.

Then they end up in the Circus.

I’m not the only one who can create NPCs, non-sentient beings meant to do only what they’re told to do and nothing else. Abby created them too, and transferred them into the hollow bodies of her victims.

So many nights I’ve heard her yell “Faster, faster!” at those NPCs forced to work overtime.

The adventures continued as planned. Every day I had a new task for the players to carry out because

Today’s task is to go to this shopping mall I created and pick up the following items! How would this person act while shopping? Add it to the AI.

Today’s task is to paint a pretty picture! What art would this person create? Add it to the AI.

Today’s task is to find Easter eggs, one of every colour! How does this person react to Easter Egg hunts?

My parents taught my sister how to be meticulous when programming and she wanted to make sure her living, breathing NPCs were perfect copies.

Sometimes I wondered if any of them were going to gain sentience like I had, if they were going to foil my sister’s plan and give back the body she forced them to steal.

If any of them wanted to put an end to her scheme, none of them had tried it.

I could control my surroundings. I could turn a red brick green if I wanted to, and could form in seconds entire buildings and lands. I couldn’t control the players’ minds however, and yet their minds seemed as much a part of the circus as the numbers that made up its code. Walking through the halls felt like walking through their minds.

No child really thinks anyone at their school has an uncle working for Nintendo, … mused often. No-one really thought he had managed to get a summer job working for a company that makes games with the industry’s youngest CEO.

The job, of course, didn’t involve playing games before anyone else or creating the next big character. Testers, designers, copywriters all needed coffee, tea and cakes to fuel their creativity, and it was his job to make sure they received their little treat. He’d come in with a tray, and they’d take what they wanted, rarely with a 'Thanks’ and never with anything else.

It was just like university.

He wanted to leave the office with something to tell his fellow students, and yet he was disallowed from looking at the screens, learning about the projects or being granted the tiniest bit of extra information regarding their major project.

So he felt he would do something no-one working there would forget.

It seemed like a regular day. Everyone tapping away at their computers, employees trying to find the right words to make the company sound as impressive as possible or trying to turn nursery school shapes into effigies of living beings, and the CEO, Abigail Adams, sitting down to look over someone’s work.

As soon as she sat down, a loud bronx cheer silenced the tapping of keyboards.

… watched as Abigail stood up, pulling the whoopee cushion off her seat. The people around her laughed, and she laughed as well. 'I’m always saying we need a little more levity in this office,’ she said. That’s what made him admit to the deed, with one other employee backing him up.

He was called into her office, where he readied himself for a 'This was amusing, but you’re still fired’ or something of that nature, only for her to sit down with a smile and say, 'That’s just what we needed around here. The problem with this company is that we’re supposed to be creating games that bring joy and merriment to others, but so few people here have that sense of childhood wonder, and they certainly can’t make people laugh. You, on the other hand, I bet you have a great sense of humour. I bet you’re always making your family laugh!’

While he felt some warmth within, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his twin sister and how she would always think of ways to humiliate him.

'You’re just what we’re looking for regarding our biggest, best project ever,’ Abby continued, gesturing towards a computer with a headset. 'My parents, God rest their souls, wanted to create a wonderful virtual world where every day brought new games and new adventures. What I would like you to do,’ she said as she picked up the headset, 'is to help make the world and characters funnier. Think up jokes we could put, games to incorporate, and I guarantee that you’ll have a job here when you graduate.’

… had to restrain himself from laughing with glee and that a whoopee cushion had become his apparent ticket to fame and fortune. He pictured the game releasing, his name in the credits, the talk of his school and town for years to come.

'Just put on this headset to get a basic idea of what the project is like.’

He placed the headset on his head, and it felt like his body was disintegrating before being slowly and poorly reassembled.

'Oh no!’ he could hear her cry, 'it’s malfunctioning!’

…, or Jax as he would be named, soon materialised into the circus, taking the form of an elongated rabbit in overalls. He was a child when he first came here, so I felt I should be his father. This was one of the few moments my sidekick Bubble came in useful, as when I conjured up a pipe, I made him pop out of it.

‘How about a game of catch with your old man?’ I said during his first day, and I created a whole baseball diamond for that day’s activity would be

What do they think of baseball?

My original plan to deal with my sister was to kill her with kindness. I knew she was watching me and the others and so I gave the players, her victims, everything they wanted that I could give them, so perhaps, I thought, if she saw it, she would realise the error of her ways and release everyone. I furnished my ward’s rooms with the comfiest sofas and four-poster beds, and at one time, even tried to give them televisions.

Thus I return to a memory I recalled earlier. When I managed to pick up on some television channels, and one managed to catch my eye. A small badger, alone in woods not dissimilar to those outside my circus tent, calling for his friend.

His friend descended from above.

A rabbit, like what Jax had become, but smaller and with white fur, eagle-like wings springing from her back. When she descended, despite her friend’s pleas, she turned to me.

‘It’s okay, Caine,’ she said to me. I admit I don’t know much about television shows, but I know that they’re not like computers; people can’t talk to you through them. I kept quiet as she spoke. ‘Your sister isn’t here right now,’ she continued, ‘but you should always act like she is. I think you can help everybody escape, but you will have to bide your time.’

I explained to her what I was trying to do, and she responded, ‘I’m afraid that there may be no hope left for your sister. Her heart is focused on greed and power. She knows what she’s doing is evil, but believes it is worthwhile if it brings her profit and satisfies her sadism.

‘There is something you can do. Your sister is convincing the people trapped in here that their headset malfunctioned, but I know that there will be someone coming here who your sister wants to dispose with because they figured out what she is up to. When they arrive, focus on restoring their memory, but remember to be discreet about it. If she cottons on, she’ll delete you and replace you with something worse.’

Why couldn’t I find her again? If I could, perhaps I wouldn’t have had to resort to this.

INT. Abigail’s Office

We find ABIGAIL sitting in front of the COMPUTER in which she has trapped her victims, grinning maliciously.

ABIGAIL Are you having fun, oh dear brother of mine? I know I am, watching all who wronged me suffer! It fills me with such wicked glee I just have to sing.

She springs from her CHAIR, grabbing a CANE out of nowhere as a SPOTLIGHT shines on her.

ABIGAIL (singing) Oh, everybody loves me, ‘You’re the best,’ they say, The shining golden idol, Running C&A!

They know me for my kindly words, They know me for my smile, But they’ll never find out, What I do that’s vile!

The DOOR creaks open slightly, to reveal …, looking concerned.

ABIGAIL For the show will never end! Of that I am certain, The show will never end! I’ll never drop the curtain,

Because you all will see, Why you shouldn’t defy me!

ABIGAIL looks up to catch a glimpse of …. Realising he’s been spotted, … runs away, only for Abby to spring to her computer

ABIGAIL The show will never end! It must go on!

INT. Hallway

… is running, only to be stopped by …, who is under ABIGAIL’s control.

I did so hope Kaufmo was who the angel was talking about.

He materialised into the circus before its current troupe: Dad, Jax, Gangle the Living Ribbon – who my sister claimed she had sent on a self-esteem-building course – and Ragatha the Doll – who my sister said was “too nice”.

When Kaufmo arrived here, he took one look around and said, ‘Geez, where am I? My mind’s like the compliments book I bet this place has: a total blank!’ Ragatha laughed out of politeness, with Jax responding with a ‘Don’t encourage him!’

‘Woah,’ said the clown, approaching Jax, ‘a bunny? With you and all the bright colours, did Easter come early?’

Jax pressed his foot down on Kaufmo’s oversized shoes, making him holler in pain. As he hopped around holding his foot, Jax said, ‘Leave comedy to the professionals, kid’ even though I was certain Kaufmo was older than he was.

You might criticize me for giving Jax too much liberty, but he was enjoying his time at the circus, at least.

I, no Abby, created a special in-house adventure for Kaufmo: Collect the Bouncing Balls! How would this man react to a scavenger hunt? Every room in the circus had a colourful inflatable sphere bouncing in place, and all of them had to be gathered.

The real Exit Door wasn’t going to appear for Kaufmo.

I created one for him.

A recreation of the offices where the computer he was trapped in was held behind the door I created, the door he found during his search.

All the while, I sat with Bubble

Oh, I didn’t mention much about Bubble, did I?

Fun Facts about Bubble:

He’s annoying

He finishes my sentences too often

He burps when he sleeps

I have had daydreams where I dribble him like a basketball and throw him against the computer screen, breaking it so I and everyone else can get out.

The purpose of the office recreation was to jog Kaufmo’s memory, and it worked. When the quest was over and all the balls had been collected, he cried, ‘I found an Exit Door and I remember everything! I know about the madwoman who trapped us here!’

‘Speaking of mad…’ Jax noted, drawing a circle with his finger around one of his bendy ears.

I am a hard-working and creative individual with a fine eye for artwork and creating eye-catching designs and worlds. I am also very skilled when it comes to computers, having used them for both work purposes and for my own personal projects.

WORK EXPERIENCE

Apprentice Tattoo Artist, …, …-… In this role, I designed various tattoos to be displayed and applied for this parlour. This role required me to listen closely to feedback

When they arrived at the circus, the whole place seemed to swell. The walls seemed to throb and pulsate, as if they had veins and a heart. This new person's memories, their experiences, their thoughts etched themselves into the foundation of this circus like tattoos onto skin.

They walked into Abigail's office for what they hoped would be the last time.

Abigail. She frequently said 'Ms. Adams was my mother, call me Abby!' as she attempted to sound like a big sister-type cartoon character, so they thought they would just call her Abigail. They certainly didn't want to think about Abigail's mother, considering she and Abigail's father were responsible for a lot of the ideas the company used. She wouldn't address them by their preferred name, so why would they do the same for her?

Despite the fact they were in the office regarding their resignation letter, having received a job offer from a rival company, Abigail still had that ridiculous smile. With that smile and hairdo, she looked like she escaped from a romcom poster, made all the more noticeable by the standee in front of her desk. Caine, the company’s mascot. The ringmaster with that ridiculous denture face.

They smirked as they entertained the idea of being rid of that pandering.

'I'm very sorry you're leaving us,' said Abigail, her smile shrinking.

'Don't give me that. That act might work with your adoring public, but you never respected me or who I was.'

'I understand,' replied Abigail, every syllable of her Mrs. Claus voice feeling like teeth digging into their brain, 'I may be a bit old-fashioned, silly me, but I want all my employees to feel comfortable with who they are.'

She then talked about the company's magnum opus, the game her parents had been working on before she took over and made sure to keep developing.

'I've added new options for character creation,' she continued, gesturing to the helmet next to her, 'and I would like you to be the first to try it!'

'Pull the other one,' they snapped, intentionally knocking the standee over. 'If I never see you or that freak again,' they added, nodding at the standee, 'it'll be too soon. Goodbye.'

A man stood in front of them. A fellow employee, though one they didn't know the name of.

'Out of my...'

He grabbed them by the wrist, digging his fingernails into their skin.

'What...'

Their left wrist was released, but only so the fellow employee could place his hand over their mouth as Abigail

‘What the **** is this…oh…oh, god no, I can’t say ****? This is…oh god, what do I look like? Some ****ing bubblegum mutant?’

‘I love when people do my job for me!’ said Jax, pointing at Zooble, for that’s what I called them.

‘Look!’ cried Kaufmo, pointing to the left of Zooble. They turned left, only to see some orange pixels circle up into the air. ‘There was an Exit Door there!’

‘Yeah, yeah, and I’m the King of England. Give it a rest and let’s focus on making the newbie uncomfortable.’

Zooble neared Jax, pointing at him with a detachable arm. ‘I’ve just met you and I already completely despise you.’

‘I guess I just have that effect on people.’

‘Guys, guys, guys!’ cried Ragatha, placing herself between the two, ‘Look, Zooble’s just got here, let’s give them a warm welcome…’

‘Oh, you’ve already blown your chance for that. Just tell me where that Exit Door the clown mentioned is.’

‘The same place his brain is,’ laughed Jax, ‘nowhere.’

‘I already said I completely despise you,’ barked Zooble, ‘you don’t have to intensify my hatred!’

‘Now, now, children,’ I said, descending, ‘this is not the time to be so hostile! It’s another of our baseball adventures today!’ I replaced one of my white gloves with a catcher’s mitt.

‘I hate baseball,’ snapped Zooble.

‘Come on! Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the ball, take me out to the bally ball ball…’

‘Read my l…’ Zooble brushed their face. ‘****. Well, listen to me anyway, teeth boy. I hate baseball, take me back.’

‘Oh, very well then. You don’t have to join if you don’t want to…’

‘Look for the Exit Door!’ cried Kaufmo.

‘You look for my fist in your face!’ Jax snapped back.

Zooble groaned. ‘I’ve already had enough of this cast of “zany, loveable characters!”’

‘Now, now,’ I repeated, ‘it’s time for the tour!’ I held Zooble’s hand and quickly showed them what the circus had to offer, with them attempting to swear all the while.

‘Ragatha,’ I said after returning, ‘be a dear and show Zooble to their room. There they’ll find their Zooble box, full of more interchangeable parts!’

Jax took this as a cue to tear one of Zooble’s arms off, with them hopping for it as he held it high. He looked at Gangle and said, ‘I wonder if I can twirl her around it like spaghetti on a fork.’

This computer has files.

This computer has data.

This computer has memories.

‘So, here’s my own little personal project. You’re this guy, I call him Nathan, and he’s ended up in this haunted house and basically everything in the house could be an enemy. The ghosts all after him can possess all the furniture so you’ll be facing potted plants with extendable vines and candles that’ll burn you.’

‘Wow, this is amazing! Your talents are certainly wasted at C&A.’

‘My whole presence is wasted there.’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry Ms. Adams gave you so much crap about cutting your hair short.’

‘I’m surprised she hired me after hearing of my tattoo work. I mean, imagine, she’s only just a few years older than you, and she comes off like some old lady that thinks heavy metal is bad devil music or whatever. I’m seriously thinking of applying to … They’re apparently more diverse, but I hear they have much higher standards…’

‘And you meet those standards! Come on, this is much better than whatever they put out at C&A…’

I experienced the memory like a dream, and after I did, I woke up and created a new level for the next adventure: a large haunted house, as dreary as the main circus was colourful. I knew what a haunted house was supposed to look like, due to data saved on the computer and whatever thoughts from the minds transferred into this world managed to snake into the world itself. Dark brown walls, stormy skies outside, cobwebs everywhere, moving furniture.

When everyone woke up, Abby had another collection mission in mind, just so she knew how Zooble acts when trying to find things.

‘Okay,’ I said to the group who had managed to gather in the main room of the circus tent, ‘today we’re having a scary, horror adventure! You’re going to enter a haunted house, full of ghosts and ghouls and moving furniture.

I noticed Zooble flinch.

If I made the ghosts inside the haunted house does that make them my children does that make Abby their aunt

Before I teleported them to the mansion, I noticed Kaufmo whisper something into Zooble’s ear, or what qualified for one, a moment that filled me with both hope and dread.

Another thing I knew about haunted houses was that people in them split up into groups. That way, I thought, my sister wouldn’t be able to pay attention to all of them at once, giving one of them a greater chance to escape.

I teleported myself to the haunted house, well, rather outside the haunted house so I could peek through the window at the mansion’s guests. The sudden change from rainbow-coloured blocks to a monochrome manor made my eyes sting slightly, but I looked through the cloudy glass for any sign of my wards.

My pixels seemed to sting when I saw Zooble and Kaufmo walking together. Both of them, I knew, were aware of my sister’s plans while no-one else was, and if they were together, that meant there was a chance Abby could focus on both of them and see them both as a threat.

Indeed, Kaufmo was telling Zooble about something even I hadn’t noticed.

‘An Exit Door appeared when you first did,’ Kaufmo explained, which I heard through the pane with my ability to focus on specific sounds being made in my realm, ‘and if you had managed to run through it in time, you would be back in your body. If Adams is observing us to make our copies more accurate, then she must place headsets on them often, and then another Exit Door will appear, and if we find one and run through it, we will enter…’

‘The more anyone speaks, the more nonsensical it sounds,’ Zooble groaned, ‘I’ve only been here a day and I know we’re never getting out of here.’

‘We can’t lose hope…’

‘Just shut up and keep looking.’

They looked around the hallway for the keys I told them to find, the silence undercut by a roar that even caused me to lose balance. A large spectre burst from a cracked mirror, its mouth stretching to reveal fangs.

Zooble and Kaufmo ran in opposite directions.

Perfect.

Sure enough, as soon as Zooble saw the Exit Door I had created, they ran in, finding themselves in a recreation of the office where they used to work.

‘Oh, very funny,’ they growled as they opened door after door, ‘Yes, I can’t get out, ha ha! Now…’

They saw the computer. They saw a recreation of the computer they were trapped in.

‘Oh **** you.’

It was not that long after the haunted house adventure that I decided to use my special screen to take a look at the outside. I saw the office empty, but could hear the faint sounds of my sister yelling at her overtime staff.

‘She isn’t here,’ Bubble said, floating up towards me, ‘maybe I can talk about helping the others?’

‘What can you do?’ I sighed.

‘I could…um…look for Exit Doors.’

‘And then go through them so you can take control of the bodies outside?’

‘No. Don’t want to go out there. I was thinking of yelling at one of your wards to come over to it.’

‘It’ll be gone before they get there, Bubble. Please…’

I heard footsteps. The door slowly creaked open.

‘Quick!’ I whispered to Bubble the first thing that came into my head when it came to acting natural. ‘Cue the roll call!’

We began the roll call when we noticed who entered the room wasn’t my sister at all, but a short woman dressed in a similar outfit to what my sister usually wore, staring at my and Bubbles’ performance with a cocked head.

I had never met her before, but I swore I had seen her before.

I almost ended the routine there and then. I thought of screaming to her to find one of my sister’s NPCs and bring them here to reverse what had been done to them, but then I saw one of those NPCs hovering over her, and so I had to continue my act.

Gangle.

Zooble.

Kinger.

Ragatha.

Jax.

Kaufmo wasn’t there.

Kaufmo wasn’t there.

My sister knew what he knew.

Almost as soon as his absence was noted, a new member materialised, utilising the silly jester girl avatar my sister had designed.

No, she couldn’t reach the Exit Door in time.

Of course, I had to introduce her to the world and her fellow wards and pull off my little comedy routine. See the circus tent. See the fair. See the moon. I don’t have an actual physical tongue, but it still hurts every time I say ‘Hundreds of all-seeing eyes.’

I can recite my introductory speech in my sleep. Abby thought I said it because that’s what I’ve been programmed to do.

She was watching, most likely with a smirk on her face.

She was watching, so when the Exit Door appeared in the grounds – meaning she was uploading her new AI into her latest victim’s brain – I had to pretend it wasn’t there.

I knew because she wanted another find-the-things mission. She wanted a defeat-the-evil mission. What would Pomni – the woman who appeared in my circus – do when trying to find things?

I wonder if she knew the inspiration behind the villain I created for the game.

I know she was laughing when she beheld Kaufmo abstracted.

I know she added that writing on the wall herself.

I know she drew that head of me looming over a terrified Kaufmo.

Was she onto me, I thought. Was it only a matter of time before I was deleted or completely reprogrammed?

Or was it to make them afraid of me? To make sure she received blind obedience from her workers even when she had copies of them that offered it?

Pomni had to have her own exit door. She had to see my recreation of the office herself. She had to remember.

I

wonder

what

it

was

like

in

the

cellar

I had to banish Kaufmo there when he abstracted, like I have done with so many others, and whenever I do, I find myself tempted to leap in and join them. Maybe if I do, I’ve thought, Abby will abstract me too. I like to think they’re dreaming of what their lives could have been like had they never joined the Circus.

If I abstracted, perhaps I would dream about if this program was used for its proper purpose. Where people could come and go as they pleased, where the adventures would solely be for fun and not for study.

I can dream. I have dreamt.

Kaufmo left the office recreation crying about the actual Exit Doors.

Zooble left the office recreation with that same annoyed apathy.

Pomni left the office recreation in silence.

Bubble had prepared everyone a celebratory meal for defeating…hey, I found something nice to say about Bubble! He’s a great cook!

7.) Bubble is a great cook!

and Pomni sat there in silence, eyes almost as large as mine.

I made sure to keep those eyes of mine on her as much as I could. I mean, I let her ponder on what she had seen in her room alone – until I was required to show her a little something – but when giving my wards free roam around the circus, I watched her as she approached Zooble, waving her hands.

‘…’ she cried before Zooble placed a finger near the bottom of their head, showing they was still getting used to not having lips. They pointed at the ceiling with one finger, then at both their eyes with two fingers and then pointed those same two fingers at Pomni.

It seems strange for me to say this as a ringmaster, but must we act for our safety? Must we act for profit? Is the only way to survive through pretending and not being our genuine selves?

I recalled something Jax once said, ‘The best thing about this place is that you can be yourself’ and it’s clear why Zooble despised him so.

I took another look through my special screen. I saw my sister looking at how profits and productivity have soared since employing her NPCs.

I don’t know much about the human world, but I do know something about businesspeople.

If profits are skyrocketing, they think of ways to make it skyrocket more.

Sure enough, she calls someone into her office. I’m not sure what their sin is or even if they have one.

‘Bubble!’ I cried, summoning my spherical sidekick, ‘I have a feeling a new Exit Door is going to appear soon. Keep an eye open for it and let Zooble or Pomni know!’

‘On it, boss!’

14.) He does what he’s told, some of the time.

I chose to focus on the stage, waiting for the new ward to materialise. I even conjured up a smaller version of my usual screen next to me so I can watch them be manipulated by my sister. Part of me wants to scream and cry and demand they leave, but remain silent, playing along and acting like humans are supposed to do.

I wished the angel was here. I wish she would advise me.

Look at them. They look so happy to get an exclusive preview of the new game.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, a giant plastic spring with googly eyes stood on the stage.

‘Greetings, new friend!’ I cried, waving while taking a glance to the left. An Exit Door dematerialised almost as soon as it appeared, and on the small screen beside me, my sister took off her employee’s headset before tapping on the keyboard.

‘Well, well,’ said Jax, walking in from a corridor, ‘seems like only yesterday we had a new sucker.’

‘Jax, show our new guest some respect!’

‘What’s the point? They’re gonna be miserable here anyway, might as well prepare them.’

‘What are they talking about?’ the spring growled at me, ‘What’s happened to me? Where am I? Who am I?’

‘All will be revealed in good time, my good friend!’

‘Don’t call me that, I’ve just met you! What is this?’

I looked at the screen. My sister was placing the headset back on the employee’s head.

‘Zooble! Look!’

I turned back to the screen, instinctively crossing my fingers, something I must have picked up from the memories buzzing around this circus.

‘Hey!’ cried the spring, ‘are you paying attention to me?’

The spring’s human body stood up.

My sister flinched. ‘What?’

'Come on!' I cried, 'Grab her! Stop her!'

'Traitor!' snapped Abby, right as Zooble, as if by instinct, grabbed her wrist, digging their fingernails - or the fingernails of the spring this body belonged to - into her skin.

'Now put the headset on her! I'll do the rest!'

'No!' yelled Abby as she stood up, placing her free hand on Zooble’s shoulder, attempting to push them away with their fingers digging in deeper.

They don’t remember.

'Please!' I pleaded, clutching my gold-tipped cane, 'Try to remember.'

'Don't listen to him,' said my sister, smiling, 'He's trying to trick you. He's the villain of our new game!'

'She trapped you in the computer!' I continued, my floating eyes bulging and rotating, 'I've been trying to get you out, but I had to do it discreetly so...'

'Are you going to listen to him?'

They turned around, taking another look at the standee which showed my visage.

'She's been putting her employees' minds into this computer, ' I continued, almost knocking over the spring next to me, 'and replacing them with artificial ones, obedient to her! She was in the process of doing it to a new victim, and that's how you ended up in their body when you went through the door!'

‘You know,’ said Jax, springing towards me, ‘I did kinda wonder if she was doing something like that.’

My explanation, arousing the ghost of familiarity, caused Zooble to toss my sister onto the floor, almost knocking over one of the swivel chairs in the process.

Bubble returned, bringing Ragatha, Gangle, Pomni and even Dad along with him.

‘Zooble,’ cried Ragatha, looking in my direction even though she couldn’t see my screen, ‘Bubble told us about what’s happening! Come on! Zoo-ble! Zoo-ble!’

The others joined in her chant, even the spring, even Jax.

'Grab the headset!' I cried, 'Put it on her! End this!'

'No!' Right as Zooble placed a hand on the headset that had begun their nightmare, my sister leapt to her feet, awakening memories of jack-in-the-boxes. The surprise made them stumble backwards, their grip on the headset lost, allowing my sister to snatch it back again.

'Well, dear brother,' she drawled with a smile, turning to the screen while grabbing the arm of her victim, 'you really thought you had me there, didn't you?'

She placed the headset on her victim.

Again Zooble grabbed Abigail by the wrist. Again they threw her to the floor. Again they lifted off the headset.

'Do it!'

As soon as Abigail got up, the headset was placed on her head.

Zooble held Abigail by the shoulders, clutching her like she was a stress ball, until her body went limb and the circus received a new performer.

Next to the spring, there appeared what looked slightly like me, only with a lightbulb instead of eyes and teeth. 'What...where...'

'Sis!' I cried, giving her a hug, 'I've been waiting for you to join us! But you have been very naughty!'

She vanished.

'Now you go and think about what you've done while I help out my new friends!'

I take another look at the screen to see Zooble in their unfamiliar body looking at their hands and breathing heavily. The man who brought them here, the man who they now recognised as Jax, entered.

'Ah!' I cried, 'My sister must have called him in to assist her when she was fighting with you. She can call people whose personalities she's replaced with this computer, you know. Put the headset on him!'

They sighed as they did what I requested, knowing that saving Abigail's victims meant saving Jax.

Zooble looked at the screen, seeing Jax’s form turn gauzier, with everyone else rushing to his spot. As soon as he completely vanished, his human body tore off the headset.

'Couldn't wait to be rid of me, eh?' he said with a familiar smirk, 'To tell the truth, if it was me in your shoes, I'd have defeated her much faster!' They shook their fist, only for him to jump towards the door. 'Can't do much without your detachable limbs, eh?'

'Now,' I said, 'you mustn't tell anyone! My sister is still beloved and you've been through enough without people turning against you.'

Perhaps I was too hasty in saying that.

'Of course not. "Oh, I'm sorry if I haven't been me recently, my evil boss replaced my brain with a digital one and trapped me in a circus". Even I don't believe that.' He turned back to his saviour. 'Well, it's been fun!' He opened the door, waving. 'See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!'

Zooble looked again at the hands of someone they didn't want to be.

The next person to enter the office was their old body. Zooble could only grimace when it entered, wearing a jacket and a skirt a colour that stung their eyes even after what they had been through. Not only were they returned to their proper body - flexing their own hands, stroking their own skin and pulling on their arms to make sure they could no longer be easily detached - but the spring became human again as well, probably having the shortest stay out of any of them.

More bodies returned, each with enough time between the other so as not to look suspicious.

Gangle got her body back and walked out the door.

Ragatha got her body back and walked out the door.

Pomni got her body back and stayed with her friend.

All the while, I spoke with Dad about the circus and its future.

'Well, that's everyone. I'm sorry, but I can't do it with the abstracted ones, and Dad's body is in a grave currently.' Dad approached and gave me a quick hug.

'There must be something we can do,' said the former jester, with Zooble placing a hand on their friend's shoulder.

I bowed my head. 'There isn't.'

Pomni turned to the hollow body of Abigail resting on the swivel chair. 'Are we going to leave her like this?' she asked, more out of curiousity than concern.

'Abigail Adams is going to die in a fire caused by a computer of hers overheating, destroyed because its most ambitious program was too ambitious.'

'You...'

'I've talked this over with Dad. We must make sure this program isn't used again for evil.' Even Bubble floated beside me, eyes closed, ready to accept death. 'Dad will find a place better than this. Abby will get what she deserves. And if there's an afterlife for AI, I'll find out about it.

'Thank you for the laughs. It was fun. Now go.'

'But what about the abstracted!’

Despite Pomni’s cries, I began destroying the circus, for now I had complete control over my sister’s computer. I made the walls inflate and throb, along with the rides and toys inside, I made the tower of carousels grow even taller…

I wish it didn’t have to come to this. It probably wouldn’t have if I could still find that angel’s programme again.

But before I die and the circus is destroyed, I created this document. I told the others not to badmouth my sister, but I am going to send this document to them anyway; my sister had their email addresses on this computer. Perhaps one of them will find a way to expose my sister and what she has done without anyone turning against them; I know Abigail will must likely suffer in the afterlife she finds herself in but she should not have the satisfaction of her crimes mostly going unnoticed.

As I write this, Pomni is at the screen, attempting to figure out a way to save everyone, with Zooble attempting to pull them away so they both can escape. I hope they leave before the computer explodes and the fire starts, and if they have and are reading this, thank you. Thank you so much.

The show is over. Tell your friends.

[cadra]

Team Black has interesting characters, but I need them to have more conflict with one another to see them truly

shine.https://www.reddit.com/r/HouseOfTheDragon/s/nPLxtAKy0u

Thoughts on this post?

i don't necessarily believe team black needs to have more conflict to be interesting, but i do wish their characters were explored more (i expect them to be in s2). however, i think it would be a massive shame if they don't explore some of the interesting dynamics between these characters that would exist, whether they are shown or not.

that said, i do think there will be conflict brewing. we can already see it in the promotion of the rhaenyra/daemon relationship. there's only a certain amount of real conflict that can be shown, bc overall i do think they are a much more functional family than team green and much of the interesting parts of the characters' relationships are internal.

here is just a list i can think of off the dome that i hope are alluded to or explored more in s2:

rhaenyra and rhaenys. rhaenys has already spoken about how they'll never let a woman rule, yet goes to war and dies for rhaenyra anyways. why? is it hope? true belief? just plain old love? i'd love to know

rhaenyra and her relationship to actually wanting the crown. imo she's seen the iron throne as an extension of her father's love, but after luke and jace's deaths, how much does she truly desire it?

rhaenyra and daemon in regards to daemon not listening to rhaenyra's orders and desires. i cannot wait to see the full scene of her finding out about b&c, and i think the scene where she asks if daemon truly accepts her as queen will be incredibly important

rhaenyra and daemon in regards to alicent. now, obviously i'm excited to see alicent and rhaenyra's dynamic in s2, but i am also intrigued by how rhaenyra and daemon's relationship will suffer for it. daemon has made it very clear that he wants all of team green dead, so how does he react when rhaenyra lets alicent live? not well i presume

jace and his relationship to aegon 3 and viserys 2. does he resent them for being the perfect targaryen princes that he is not (visibly, at least)? does he love them anyways? does he even think about those little kids?

jace and his relationship to daemon. its kinda obvious there's tension there already. can't want to see if/how it is expanded on, especially if it becomes obvious that daemon does not, in fact, respect rhaenyra as a true ruling queen

the dragon twins and their relationship to rhaenyra and their father. i worry they won't get as much development as they deserve, but i hope that there is at least a measure of character exploration (specifically: i really really want to see what they do with rhaena)

with rhaena in particular, i also really hope they don't give nettles's role to her. they probably will, just based on the promotion so far, but i find rhaena's lack of a dragon and insecurity about being "useless" in the war effort a particularly fascinating thing to explore if they choose to go that direction.

i could probably think of more if i tried, but that's just kinda the main things i hope to see from team black's side. i believe the only real conflict will be between daemon and rhaenyra, but i would loooove to further delve into the nature of everyone's relationships and roles within team black

[bonearenaofmyskull]

Hey! Curious if you're currently into any great shows. If so, mind sharing your recommendations? Always on the lookout for some good TV suggestions!

I imagine you've seen everything I have. I spend more time gaming. Not into anything great at the moment, but I can dig deep and see if I can remember what shows I've watched since Hannibal aired and give my opinions. I binge TV series with my mom who is in her 80's and has Parkinson's and macular degeneration and can't really do activities or read anymore, so I rewatched some old ones with her here largely to torture her with them, so they'll be in here also.

S-Tier (Winners)

My Brilliant Friend. Probably the best thing I've watched since Hannibal. If S4 is out I haven't seen it yet, no spoilers.

Better Call Saul. Possibly tied with My Beautiful Friend. Better than Breaking Bad. Much better ending. So good, no complaints. Nailed the ending. Did I mention the ending?

A-Tier (Runners-up)

Black Sails: God, there were some parts of this that were so gratuitous and tedious, especially early on, and I hated Eleanor Guthrie and not in the kind of way that means good things for a show. Some of the dialogue was just really on the nose too. This sounds like a lot of complaints, but the things it did well, it did SO WELL that it really does make up for the negatives. The acting was sooooo good and the Flint and Silver dynamic was AMAZING and the show looked great, and over all that, it really had something thoughtful to say, and that stays with you when it's over.

Stranger Things: Some parts of this show hit better than others, but I'm squarely in the bullseye of the target audience and get the vast majority of the references and nostalgia, and I love David Harbour. I appreciate their exploration of various types of horror, attempting a new style each season, and I like the charm and humor and cheese, and it's a show that knows its voice and its tone and commits fully to those things. It's trying to be a fun show and it is, and it wants to deal with real fears and real grief, and it does.

The Handmaid's Tale: Speaking of shows that are committed to their tone, this one definitely is that. It's too heavy and relentless for most people, I think, but I don't mind that at all. Parts of it do drag, but it has a lot of the same qualities (for good or bad) as Black Sails: great acting, powerful character dynamics, the things that it does well it does so well it makes up for the shortcomings, imo.

Breaking Bad: Famous show, not much to say here. Rewatched it recently and don't think it's as good as Better Call Saul, so I put it here.

B-Tier (Can't complain but will anyway)

Good Omens: Can't get into it, can't find anything particularly wrong with it. I'm into the ship. I guffaw out loud while watching it yet am thoroughly bored most of the time. Love Michael Sheen and David Tennant on screen together. I know the show can't be that all the time but I wish it was. Aziraphale ftw. I feel like people missed the point of the ending of the last season.

Mad Men: Show could give Seinfeld a run for its money in terms of being about nothing, but definitely had its charm. Watched it with my mom so her nostalgia and appreciation for how historically authentic it felt went a long way. Good performances. God, it could be boring sometimes though.

Vikings: This one was a lot like Black Sails for me. They had a bit of a struggle for a season or two but once going, they really got going. Many great acting performances and characters. Loved Ecbert and Ivar especially. Didn't have Toby Stephens and Luke Arnold, so you know...can't quite make that tier. And didn't have as much to say, or didn't say it as well, and it doesn't stay with you.

C-Tier (Can complain and will, but were good enough to stick with)

LOST

The X-Files

His Dark Materials

Downton Abbey

BBC Sherlock

Game of Thrones (I think most people have misdiagnosed this show's problems, but it sure did have them)

D-Tier (Tried but could NOT, though many people will like these...they were just Not For Me)

Bridgerton

Dark

The Good Place

The Gilded Age

Outlander

The Crown

Outer Range (what even the fuck with this show)

I tried to think of more shows I've watched in this time, but this about sums it up. But here are a couple YouTube channels I really like:

Beau of the Fifth Column

Bistro Huddy

[besttropeveershowdown]

The Worst Trope Ever Showdown: Round 1, Side C

Damsel In Distress

we all know this one. usually a beautiful, helpless woman (a young maiden in fairytale versions), who is attacked or kidnapped or trapped, (usually by an antagonist but sometimes just by circumstances) and needs rescuing by our dashing male hero. once saved, she usually rewards him with a kiss or beginning a romantic relationship with him, or in fairytale versions is given to him as a bride.

main reason is the female character has no agency. she only exists as motivation for the hero, and then a reward if he succeeds. i dont think i have to explain further why that sucks/ the implications of that. however depending on the way its done it also can have lots if other fun problems too, like often because she's always 'beautiful'/ attractive the antagonist/ villain might want to have her for themselves/ fuck her, leads into nasty territory pretty easily (that is usually only further motivation for the hero to 'save' her, who cares about her own interiority etc)... and then there's also the 'virtue' part where to be a good damsel they often have to be 'pure' and morally good and feminine etc etc etc.... you get the picture. its tiring. we dont need it. sometimes it can be well done if its subverted but lets abandon the uncritical/ classic version pls...

Joker Immunity

A recurring villain does not die even in situations where they should because they're too popular or too good.

Propaganda:

If the villain won’t die, they should redeem themselves otherwise they should be dead. You don’t have faith in the audience to like a new/other villain? Stop that line of thought. Explore the ramifications of what the vacuum of the death of big, bad villain does.

[safetypinpals]

How Fionna and Cake explores PB and Marcy's characters while only having them in a 15 sec cameo

As much as I would have loved to see more of PB and Marcy in Fionna and Cake, I feel like it still does a really good job at exploring their individual characters as well as their relationship through how they're reflected in their alternate universes.

I really loved the star, and I think it does these fascinating character studies of pb and marcy and does it while they're one-off side characters in this episode. Its efficient, but still really impactful, and its all done through these alternate versions. I think it's something that can really only be done due to the extensive worldbuilding from AT, and the complex storytelling Fionna and Cake takes on through these alternate universes.

Part 1: Marceline and Bonnibel's characters:

In AT and Distant Lands Obsidian we've seen Bonnie and Marcy's flaws. Bonnie can be cold, paranoid, controlling, stubborn, prideful, obsessive and Machiavellian. We've seen her willing to hurt people for what she views as the greater good. She's a fairly utilitarian person. I think we see her darker side beginning in season 4, and its explored in season 5 and 6. Some examples off the top of my head include a) imprisoning flame princess as a baby b) her surveillance over like, everybody c) Throwing everybody in tree trunks' wedding in prison. These reasons are why a lot of people really dislike her, and see her as an authoritarian dictator, and I don't think they're totally wrong to feel that way. However, we see her grow in season 6, she realizes that some of the stuff she's doing is messed up, and she makes a clear effort to do better. in season 7 when she's usurped, she finished her redemption arc. Finn, Flame Princess, and Marceline, the people in her life play an important role in helping her become a better person. (S6 EP 22 "The cooler", S6 EP23 "The Pajama War", S7 E2 "Varmints"). One of the major things that also really softens her character is her clear love for her people. There's an undeniable motherliness to how she cares for her people and her kingdom that there's something really sweet about. Even though she doesn't always show it well, she does have a lot of love. Love for her people, love for her brother (S7E1 "Bonnie and Neddie"), love for Marceline, and love for her friends (Finn and Jake). She built her whole kingdom because she wanted to have people to be with!

Marcy is also a bit morally gray. Especially in the beginning of the series, she is shown to be unconcerned with people's feelings or the impact of her actions on others. in general, she's apathetic towards the feelings of other people, and primarily sees them as a source of entertainment. She manipulates and plays elaborate mind tricks on people for her own amusement. The song from her debut episode puts it best when she says "I'm a thousand years old and I just lost track of my moral code". She's not an evil person, but over time and through all the things she's lived through, she struggles to empathize with people. She's "burnt out on dealing with mortals".

when we first meet her in S1E2 "Evicted". She literally kicks Finn and Jake out of their house (that s technically hers) even though by the end of the episode it's clear she has other options and is really only doing it to fuck with them. She even tries to kill Jake (which only doesnt work bc Jake uses his powers, but how would she know that?). By her second appearance in S1E22 "Henchmen" it becomes clear that she isn't actually evil, she mostly likes playing mind games. Nonetheless, still fairly messed up. We also see her callousnes In S2E1 "It Came From The Nightosphere" When Hunter Aberdeer terrorizes Ooo, and goes about the land stealing souls and murdering people, Marceline is wholly unconcerned with the people her dad is murdering, and really only worried about getting her bass back (/focused on her own daddy issues). As the series goes along, and as she spends time with finn and jake she mellows out a bit, and gets better. She works through a lot of her issues during the Stakes mini-series (S8 E6-13). We also see her past, and a bit of how her childhood, often lacking consistent, healthy parental figures to model from, and how some of her issues came to be. In fact, I think a large part of why she’s so messed up to people at the beginning of the series is because since Simon’s the ice king, and all the humans are gone, she hasnt had a positive influence on her for a long while.  By the end of Stakes, we see a more grown up, empathetic Marcy. We see this new insight in the finale (S10 E13 "Come Along With Me") when she talks to PB, trying to get her to not go to war. Marcy really just needs people to ground her. Because her life has been so unstable, and so many people in her life have been lost, or have left her (her mom, her dad, simon, Bonnie), she takes to lashing out at people to scare them away in order to avoid rejection. All this is really made clear in Distant Lands: Obsidian.

Part 2: Vampire universe PB and Marcy

In Fionna and Cake E7 we see the versions of them without the things that made them better people. We see how their circumstances created their most toxic selves; for Marcy, that's not having Simon, and for PB it's being put in survival mode, and not having the love of her family.

Princess Bubblegum, instead of being a Princess, is the leader of a resistance against vampires in an apocalyptic world. She's very ruthless, cold, and militaristic. She's dead set on taking down the vampires no matter the cost. as she says "I'm gonna slay him (the Vampire King) or die trying". She only stops to pick up Simon, Fionna and Cake, because she figured that Cake's "murder skills" would be useful in taking down the vamps. In the scene where she refuses to stop to help strangers on the road calling for help really illustrates her mindset. In this, her and Fionna have the following exchange: F: "Quick! Pull over!" B: "No distractions" F: "But you stopped for us." B: "I stopped for your mutant cat. Big picture." When Martin dies, and Fionna apologizes since it was kinda her fault, Bonnie says this “You should be! It’s your fault I’m down one man, and more importantly, one tank. We see her do to the extreme what she's done in the past when she's trying to keep everything together: push all her feelings down, distance herself emotionally from others, and stick to her utilitarian ways. This isn't to say she's all bad. her end goals are nobel. She's trying to save humanity. 

Bubblegum also shows a lot of aggression and ruthfulness. 

She also seems to be very obsessed with Marcy in a very sworn enemies (gay) way. Liek she hates her but she’s also totally obsessed with her and stuck in this powerbattle with her. Marcy makes her crazy mad when she calls her a loser. This is VERY personal to her 

Marcy, without Simon or Finn and Jake’s influence- toss in the VK as a father figure, has totally lost touch with her humanity. Her carelessness towards the lives of others is dialed up to a 10 with her literally murdering henchmen for saying something she didn't like. She’s still playful, but in a much more twisted, evil, crazy way. Her favorite plaything being bonnibel. She seems equally obsessed with Bonnie, and even admires her a little bit. She gets mad when her henchmen talk bad about her and question her as to why she hasn’t killed her yet. She doesn’t seem to actually want to kill her that much because she likes her too much: VK scolds her for “toying her prey”, and tells her to “finish it off”.

Bonnie in kind , as much as she seems to hate Marceline, also seems to secretly like her too, at least in my opinion. Bonnie knows a lot about Marceline; she knows her first name.  Her adamant refusal of “I would never” is loaded with so much history.  When Marceline offers her “You know you could join me” Bonnie seems to briefly consider it, if only for a moment before saying “What’s the point? The population’s crashed and you're running out of food.” There’s something very romantic in that final declaration of “if you poof me, you’ll die too” “together then”. Their dying moments fighting in each other's arms to the death mirrored by Gary and Marshall-lee kissing.

[cbk1000]

Hi there!

Ive recently stumbled across your works, and I just wanted to say that I enjoy your writing soso much!! Each time i read any of ur pieces, i feel ever so blessed that i can read them for freee,,, ??like wow!! I absolutely love your characterization of arthur, and any piece of banter you write never fails to make me laugh!

Your writing style is so addictive, ive honestly found myself missing it when I read anything else. Because of this, id like to ask if you have any book recs? hehee anything that inspired that brain and writing of yours seems like it would be a worthwile read!! From ur alltime favs, or recent favs, comfort books, or books that gave u personal epiphanies, pls feel free to not hold back !! (If its not too much trouble)

And once again, thank you soso much for all your lovely works!! 💗

I LOVE talking about books, so thank you so much for this ask. This is a very truncated list of some of my favourite authors and books because if I wanted to talk about all of them, that would be a post as long as one of my fics.

First up is Terry Pratchett, who I came to rather late; I just started reading Discworld in 2020, despite @clonemaster-general and @jinxedwood telling me years earlier I should read him, so they should feel free to be smug about the fact that I ignored their sound advice for a long time and then went, "Ok, where do I sign up for the cult" after reading approximately one (1) Pratchett novel.

Discworld is a fantasy satire series that's over 40 books long, but those 40+ books simply take place in the same world and do not have to be read in order, although I would recommend reading any subseries featuring the same characters in order (the City Watch books starting with 'Guards! Guards', the Witches starting with ''Wyrd Sisters' etc.) Pratchett did write some non-Discworld books, although the bulk of his very large body of work is that series. He was a very gifted writer who was able to present the stupidity and injustices of humanity in a way that made you laugh and feel that it's bearable to live alongside these things. No other author has made me laugh so much at dumb little puns or dick jokes and then suddenly slapped me with a banger of a line about human nature.

'The Once and Future King' by T.H. White. A retelling of Malory's 'Le Morte d'Arthur'. It's silly, it's touching, it asks why humans go to war. If you're tired of relentless grimdark, this book shows you that a novel can explore serious themes and ask serious questions of its readers while also being a bit silly and stupid, because like suffering, silliness and stupidity is an intrinsic part of the human experience.

'The Left Hand of Darkness' by Ursula Le Guin. I could really just say, "All of Ursula Le Guin's stuff" because I've read several novels, a ton of her short stories, plus most of her essay collections and I've loved them all, but I wanted to mention this one particularly because Le Guin was examining our ideas of gender and society in the fucking 60s and I'm tired of hearing right-wing nutjobs bang on about trans people like they're some alien species newly landed on our planet to kidnap our children. Also, what I love about Le Guin's sci-fi is that she was concerned primarily with the culture of alien societies, not laser guns, and her world building is incredibly deep in that regard. Her father was an anthropologist, and you can see how his studies shaped her writing.

'The Lymond Chronicles' by Dorothy Dunnett. I love me a good swashbuckler, and these are some good swashbucklers. There's also some really beautiful prose that really evokes the landscapes of 15th century Europe, and her action/battle scenes are some of the most gripping I've read. The caveat with this one is that I actually don't like the main character all that much; he's a real special guy who speaks all the languages, is good at all the things, is a master strategist at 20, and is hot to boot. But the story is told mostly through the POVs of other characters that get caught up in his exploits so you're not stuck in his insufferable perspective, and I found the books overall (there are six in the series) very hard to put down.

'The Count of Monte Cristo' by Alexandre Dumas. The OG swashbuckler, really. Shipwrecks! Duels! Poison! Revenge! People just don't do dramatic adventure novels like Dumas anymore.

'War and Peace' by Tolstoy. I can't not mention this; I've read it twice so far in English and once in Russian. Tolstoy was an amazing observer of human nature. Also, he clearly thought Napoleon was a little bitch and reading about him from the perspective of a Russian novelist is quite entertaining after reading about him from Victor Hugo's perspective.

'Les Miserables' by Victor Hugo. I also have to mention this one. Yes, there are very lengthy asides on the Parisian sewer system. In the middle of a chase scene. But tbh, Hugo was curious about everything and while maybe he talked about every single one of those things a bit too long, it still endears him to me. Also, he was known more as a poet than a novelist by contemporary readers, and even in translation I think the fact that he was a poet really comes through in the prose.

Also, really anything by Patricia McKillip if you want dreamy, poetic fantasy that feels like being dropped right into the middle of a fairytale where magic has no hard rules and is something a bit wild and dangerous and beautiful.

I also read a lot of non-fiction, so I'll just list a few of my faves: 'Survival in Auschwitz' by Primo Levi; 'The Gulag Archipelago' by Alexandre Solzhenitsyn; James Herriott's 'All Creatures Great and Small' series; 'Landmarks' by Robert Macfarlane (but really any of his nature writing; this one I liked particularly because it's about the power of language to evoke a sense of place and how our vocabulary for the natural world is slowly being subsumed by our increasingly technologically-driven world). 'The Demon-Haunted World' by Carl Sagan, which was written in the 90s but if anything is even more relevant today as we struggle with parsing the mythology of pseudoscience and the real-world harm it perpetuates.

And I read a fuck ton of poetry, so I'll just rattle off a list of some of my favourite poets: Wilfred Owen, Isaac Rosenberg, Siegfried Sassoon, Rupert Brooks, Edward Thomas (I also love his nature writing), Alexandre Blok, Pushkin, Ursula Le Guin (she's primarily known as a novelist, but she has some very good poetry as well), Mikhail Lermontov, Anna Akhmatova, Alexander Pope, Tennyson (particularly Idylls of the King), Seamus Heaney, and Yeats.

Anyway, this is a small sampler of books I've read and loved.

[saltydkdan]

Pleasant tidings Salty, here to say your iceberg videos where one of the main things that actually got into jojo’s, incredible series, and now i’m caught up on everything i’d be interested to hear your opinion on (as a ultra based jojoer) the end of JoJolion. Personally i loved it, from the connections to part 7 and Gappy’s development through the part, but i know some people found it rushed or confusing, and i’m wondering what your thoughts were?

(ignore the fact i’m a dead weezer gimmick blog)

I’m EXTREMELY MIXED on Jojolion. There’s a lot I love, but also a lot I dislike.

WARNING: JOJO RAMBLE INCOMING

My opinion is very fresh, as I dropped off of modern Jojo back in college. It was only recently that I decided to finally catch back up, and do a weekly book club for Jojolion with a few friends.

My personal recommendation for reading it:

Do it weekly with other friends if possible. Have discussions with them about it. There is so much that I either didn’t pick up on while reading, or completely didn’t register at the time. And trying to extrapolate what Araki was trying to say with his story was very fun. It’s clear he tried to pack a LOT into every chapter. Which has it’s pros and cons. Binge reading doesn’t hit the same for me for Jojolion. I gained a far bigger appreciation reading in batches with other fans :)

The way I like to think about it, is that it had the ingredients, but I feel like the cake didn’t come out right. Although it tastes just as delicious as I would have wanted.

I just feel like Jojolion had a bit too many moving parts that even Araki couldn’t keep track of. There’s plenty of early Jojolion stuff that feels very tonally different with later Jojolion stuff. It’s clear that Araki had to course correct and change the plot several times throughout it’s run. And it’s because of Jojolion that I just feel like Jojo isn’t built for longer stories/publication. I think its length caused a lot of issues long term. It’s because of how long it took to make that there seems to be much more room for Araki to have second thoughts, or flat out change his mind on the story several times. (Josefumi having the Joestar birthmark and having it later removed in the volume releases, the characterization of Norisuke, etc)

Plenty of things go outright unexplained or elaborated on. I know it’s parroted a lot, but the “Flashback Man” from the first arc is the biggest example of this issue. If I had more time I’m sure I could type up a more definite list (how the Wall Eyes work is another example, as well as why the fuck Josuke and Kei Ninimura never really interacted past her stand fight, given that they are siblings and JOSUKE IS LITERALLY SEARCHING FOR FAMILY. HE LITERALLY SAYS THAT HE “HAS NO ONE” MULTIPLE TIMES LIKE, BRO, TALK TO YOUR SIBLING)

Now, I’m not saying that EVERYTHING needs explanation, but for 70% of the story, Jojolion posits itself as a MYSTERY. So to have so many pieces of that be unaddressed just feels… strange.

I also just feel like Jojolion has SO MANY AMAZING IDEAS, and has plenty of time to explore them and just… doesn’t.

Tooru is an incredible villain, probably one of my favorites in the entire series, but his presence in the story is soured because of how late he’s introduced into the plot. He’s amazing, but he feels like a very last minute inclusion, especially when Araki wants us to believe that he was totally a part of Yasuho’s life before and we’ve never even heard a rumbling of that before.

Anyway that’s enough complaining, let me hush about what I love about it real quick.

This is the case with everything he writes, but when Araki nails it with Jojolion he REALLY nails it. The Vitamin C arc is incredible, and ties Josuke’s story together so well and has some incredible lore drops. Not to mention that I think that Jojolion has some of his best written characters. Yasuho is one of the most deep and complex female characters in the entire series (didn’t stop Araki from writing that she gets sexually assaulted once or twice, but that’s just an issue I have with his writing overall)

He also goes really strange with the stands and designs, and I love it so much. When Araki gets weird, he really goes wild, it’s crazy fun. Blue Hawaii is such a fantastic arc, and really highlights his mastery of art and choreography in manga. Josuke’s combat is the best in the series imho.

And although the final arc stumbles in a few places, Wonder of U sticks the landing for me regardless, and in a way that didn’t feel cheap. Araki has come a long way from him writing that “Star Platinum can ALSO stop time”

At first, I thought that Josuke gaining the power of the spin last minute was cheap. However the more I reflected on it, the more it made sense. It isn’t outright confirmed, but I feel like Johnny’s spin was passed down to Josuke through his fusion in the wall eyes. Much like how Autumn Leaves absorbed some power from Johnny’s spin, I think that Josuke being in the wall eyes allowed him to absorb the power in the same way. I can’t tell if that was Araki’s intent, but if it was, dude is a genius. It makes complete sense, and in a roundabout way, directly connects Johnny and Josuke in a final battle.

Anyway yeah, I’ll stop the rambling here.

Believe me, I could go on for hours about Jojolion, and especially Jojo in general. I have so many things I can gush and complain about, it’s why I love it so much.

So yeah, I’m mixed on Jojolion, but overall I enjoy it a lot!!

[dyke-a-saur]

Finished watching Heartbreak High and I gotta say, I feel like they pulled off Gen Z High School really well. Like I could go to school with these absolute agents if chaos.

Okay but important business:

Amerie

I loved her the second she popped up on screen. Her energy, her personality, and her friendship with Harper. It was just the best. At times tho, I could see why the other characters antagonized her. After all, it was just as much her map as Harper’s and she put people in awful situations. Not to mention the reveal that she failed to let Harper in, then had the nerve to say she’d always be there. She even did the same to Malakai (tho it’s clear she acted out of trauma from her and Harper’s friendship gone sour)

Dusty

Fuck you. Youse a bitch, a snake, and truly a shit stain on the trousers of humanity. Work on yourself. Big soulful eyes tho.

Ca$h

Arguably the second most emotionally intelligent character in the show? Definitely better at it than Darren and his relationship was so refreshing? It was neat to see it not be a “I like dudes, oh no,” storyline and instead “I’m ace and just need to better express that to my partner who I love and adore”. Also that “I love you scene” was peak ghetto and I loved it. Darren’s Baby Daddy really behind bars, huh?

Malakai

This man. Is so fine. So sweet. And so funny. I love the way he gets to know Amerie and then befriends her and then becomes her first. And even if he handled the peer pressure to talk about the details poorly, he wanted to do right by her. I also loved how they explored the kinship he had with OTHER BLA(c)K CHARACTERS. It was nice to see how much he healed by being in his community and being surrounded by love for his culture. Missy being a big part of that was beautiful.

Harper

I did get the "spoiler" that she went through "something traumatizing" right before the start of the show, then later got more clues from Tumblr. So i had more patience with her character at the start, being honest. But goddamn it was so hard to watch her shut Amerie out and lash out at her. It also sucked seeing her antagonized in the second half because if she could've reached out or accepted people reaching in, then I feel like shit could've been handled better. But after seeing the events of "that night" I could totally get how and why she would want Amerie out of her life. Fake as hell for not owning up to the Incest Map tho. I was constantly whisper-yelling at my phone "girl, get it together!'

Quinni

No notes. Love her. She's the best. Also the most emotionally intelligent character (not a surprise and fuck you Sasha). She helps so many characters process their emotions, make up, figure out wwhat they want, and still stands on her own as a great character with her own life going on. I'm NT, but from what I've seen on Tumblr, most ND people see her as good rep.

Spider

Fuck this guy. Racist, sexist, (not as homophobic as previously assumed), and awful. But I love it. I love when he gets told to shut up. I love it when he's being awful and the other characters are like "yeah, fuck this dude". But also, he was weirdly complex? like the scene where he would've gotten it on with Amerie makes a lot of sense in context of the rest of his behavior. He's overcompensating because someone he genuinely liked, and cared for to an extent, hurt him in a vulnerable place and treated him like a dissapointment. Doesn't give him the right to react with daily verbal abuse, but his character makes more sense that way. I'd like to see him grow from that, but I'm not sure how.

Star of the Show

They're here, they're queer, they're unapologetically BLACK, they. Are. DARREN.

Okay jokes aside, I love this bitch. They're not only a great friend, but they (mostly) know what they want in life. It's sad to see Darren be dismissed as “too much” in their home, and you can really see how its affected the way they view their ability to be loved and cherished. So seeing them find that in Ca$h and watch the relationshp between the two grow was beautiful. It hurt to see Darren hurt Ca$h, like they gay ass ain't know what the "A" in "LGBTQIA" stood for, but that growth and intracommunity hurt was important to see.

Others

Ant annoyed me but he seemed like he could do/be better if he wasn’t around the rest of the guys. Sasha pissed me off, but I hope losing Quinni was enough to actually get her to look at her self-righteous tendencies and work on herself, I wanna see her go far. Missy was a fucking icon and I love her. Ms. Jojo is the love of my life and fuck Spider/Ant/Dusty (nigga) for screwing her over like that. Mrs. Spigot is my literal soulmate.

I think that’s all for now? But yeah go watch it if you haven’t already. It is another show focusing on the sex lives of teens but it feels more authentic than anything we’ve been given before.