#Binary adding machine

[brotherblaze]

doloroso ii —robert "bob" reynolds

—summary: You invite Bob to a makeshift picnic on the building helipad (sometimes makeshift patio) when everyone else is away. He realizes he doesn't know much about you. So, he decides to start somewhere.

—word count: 2,9k

—warnings: n/a

—a/n: bucky gets a b-plot because hey maybe I want to make a spinoff for bucky and reader's previous incarnation

—part 1 | AO3

Bob is improving. Slowly, but progress is progress. He keeps to his schedule and he takes his pills like a champ. He mingles with the team even when they bicker and threaten to throw each other from the top of the building. They have a fascinating dynamic and something inside you stirs every time you see them argue, see them help each other, see them sitting in silence in the same room, doing their own thing.

At times, they work like a well-oiled machine, other times they’re like a trainwreck in action. Try as you might, you cannot look away from them. Hard-headed, all of them, kind of assholes at times, but they make it work. There is so much care between them, so much reassurance buried under retorts with a soft bite to them. They orbit each other like binary stars.

Complete silence in the Watchtower feels foreign. The TV has been on for most of the day to project some artificial life into the place. It has done little to help.

You flip through the channels on the oversized TV (this thing could probably fit inside a movie theater). The collapse of cable TV really is a sight to behold; ads upon ads upon ads shoved down your throat at every turn, every chance. It's almost infuriating how they finesse product placements into shows and movies in a way that’s so incredibly unnatural. You turn it off in a huff.

“Wow, cable really went to shit.” Bob is standing at what should be the doorway if the open kitchen wasn't so open. He has a bowl in his hand. It smells sweet.

“I'm suddenly so glad I don't have a TV at home.”

“Seriously?” He lifts a spoonful to his mouth. Whatever it is, it crunches as he chews. “Bucky said they didn’t have ads back in the day. You paid for a subscription to see the channels.”

“Oh, so they’re double-dipping. You're gonna ruin your appetite, by the way,” you tell him as you stand, smoothing out the wrinkles on your pants. “I ordered takeout. I think it’s for the best.”

“I tried to cook once when they were away,” Bob pauses, scraping the spoon in his hand against the side of the bowl — how is he finishing that bowl already? — “and John almost suplexed me for messing up his spice cabinet.”

You snort and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. “Sorry. Any word on when they’ll be back?”

“Not yet,” Bob says. He shrugs. “It’s normal for them to be gone for several days at a time. Spy stuff, I guess.”

“And you’re alone here?” Your frown slightly, brows furrowed. “Isn’t it lonely?”

“Not — I mean, maybe. Sometimes.” Your eyes meet his from across the room. “But it’s fine, y’know. I’m not ready to go out there and they — they have their job to do.”

You hold his gaze and — he cannot look away. He should look away but there’s something about you that pulls him in like a whirlpool and he’s trapped and he’s trapped and he’s trapped like a rat in a maze. The feeling is all too familiar but he can’t place it. Then again, he remembers very little from after he got jabbed for his blood and waking up in OXE’s vault.

The ping of your phone breaks whatever spell you have on him. You look away first, pull your phone from your pocket and scroll through the notifications. “Food’s here.” You grab the throw blanket from the couch and fold it over your arm. “Can you grab it? They don’t deliver up here, right?”

Bob’s racing thoughts come to a screeching halt and he tries to ground himself back into his body, wiggling his fingers and toes. All in one piece. He wipes the corner of his mouth against his shirt sleeve and immediately cringes. “Sorry. Yeah — yeah, I’ll go grab it.” He leaves his bowl in the sink and rushes over to the elevator.

It takes longer than he would like to get the food. Not only does the delivery driver seem to wilt when Bob shows up, but he doesn’t want to hand over the food. Because the picture in the app is of you and not him. There’s something akin to disbelief that the driver doesn’t recognize Bob, that bubbles in his chest and then immediately this crushing weight pressing against his lungs. Because he’s a nobody next to the team, isn’t he? That’s what the driver was probably hoping for, to see Bucky or John or Yelena and not him. Just Bob.

The driver taps something on his phone and raises it to his ear and Bob fruitlessly tries to get a word in. The man confirms the address on the phone and then — his eyes gloss over. Somewhere in Bob’s mind, it pings as wrong and he simultaneously needs to flee, needs to get out of here right at this second, and grab the man by the shoulders to shake him awake, food be damned. The delivery driver thrusts the paper bag into his chest and turns around, stiff like a puppet on strings, and walks off.

Bob retreats into the elevator, finger spamming the button to the top floor until the doors close and the elevator begins its climb. There’s a jitter in his veins, blood rushing in his ears. He should’ve done something, he should’ve grabbed the man and shaken him awake. That’s what heroes do, right? But he’s Bob, just Bob, not what the rest of his team — his friends — are. Pain pulses behind his eyes and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to will it away.

When the elevator dings and the doors slide open he nearly sprints out of the small confined metal trap. He doesn’t spot you at first glance.

“Patio!”

He scrambles across the room towards the sound of your voice, so alluring and the weight constricting his chest eases.

There’s a large candle on the center of the patio table. He can faintly smell citrus. You’re fussing with the throw blankets from the couch, draping them over the patio chairs and then folding the edges so they don’t touch the floor. You wave him over with a smile and Bob mutters a quiet apology for taking so long. He doesn’t want to go into the details, doesn’t want to go back to spiraling about being just Bob, so he just unpacks the food, trying to make out what’s in each container.

You sit and pull the throw blanket onto your shoulders, reaching for the closest container. Whatever’s in it, seems to be fine and you pop it open.

The sun has set. The city is alight even when the sky's still blue. Could the team get out of the city for the summer solstice? He makes a mental note to ask for their opinion once they get back. The two of you don’t make conversation as you eat but it doesn’t feel empty or awkward. He actually sort of enjoys it. The people below on the street are like small ants, all of them rushing somewhere, organized and disorganized at the same time. Cars honk. The billboards glare reds and greens and whites in flashing advertisements. Despite everything, Bob feels calm.

“I never realized NYC has so much light pollution. And noise pollution." Okay, so you’re not a fan. Bob can’t help but chuckle. When he realizes, he splutters, coughs. Like he’s trying to hide his transgression. You think back to the rooms you’d dragged him through.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he rushes to say, a string of apologies ready on his tongue but you don’t look at him like he’s managed to piss you off. The corner of your mouth is curled upwards, eyebrows raised slightly. He takes a moment to recalibrate. Different environment, different people, he reminds himself. “You’re uh… not from around here, huh?”

“Ha.” It’s something between a laugh and a snide comment and yet there’s no actual malice contorting your features. “No, I have a farm. Well, a sort of farm. Not far from a little seaside town.”

“A farm? Wow.” It dawns on him that he knows very little about you. You’re so proactive in conversations that the topic smoothly gets steered away from you every time. He turns his body towards you slightly. You mirror him. “Like, with cows?”

“Dogs.” You take a sip of your water. Your lipstick smudges against the rim on the glass. It catches Bob's eye. “I rescue them. Mostly from dog fighting rings. I have a whole network set up. Someone discovers it and if a case is bad enough, like, if they can’t get rehomed because they’re continuously aggressive and don’t respond to training, they come to stay with me.”

“So, they have retirement homes for dogs?”

You giggle, a hand covering your mouth. Bob’s ears flush. “Sort of. Yeah, I guess it’s technically retirement. There’s a lot of land for them to roam around. In the summer I usually take them to the sea to swim and in the winter we’ll go sledding on the ice if the ice is thick enough.”

“Oh, so you have seasonal activities,” he jokes and he doesn't even know where it came from but you laugh again and something in his chest flutters. He takes a bite from his kebab before he says anything stupid again. “So,” he starts again when a thought strikes him and immediately places his hand over his mouth. He forces the lump of food down his throat half-chewed because you’re looking at him like that again, with that small smile. He clears his throat once and washes everything down with water. Only then does he dare to speak again. “Is it a… passion? Rehabilitating dogs?”

“More like easy. Dogs are much more susceptible to being dominated than humans are. It’s easy for me to correct their behavior because of what I am. I figured why not give it a shot? Sometimes it’s good to be responsible for someone else; makes you get out of bed in the morning because you need to provide,” you say. “I know pet ownership isn't for everyone but…” you gently jab your elbow against his ribs, “I think it would do you a lot of good.”

“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head slightly. His curls bounce. “Sometimes it feels like…” his expression fractures for a fleeting moment before he composes himself and gives you a wavering smile. “I can’t even manage myself, y’know?”

You don’t know. There it is again, that feeling in your chest, stirring, slithering, coiling around your organs. Something is missing. Something is wrong with you. So, you steer the conversation.

“Y’know, they make robot dogs now.” There’s a glint in your eye when you say it. He should rebut, refuse, thank you for the food and stand up and go crawl into his soft bed but the way you smile at him… “Those tiny ones with batteries, not the big ones they use for research and in the army — those are kind of creepy.”

“Oh, you mean the small purse robot dogs?”

“Exactly. Walker’s little hat is just the right size to carry one around.”

He laughs. He actually laughs and it feels good. He feels light and warm despite not picking up the throw blanket.

And then it’s silent between you again. A good silence. His nearly-finished kebab tastes better all of a sudden. He reaches for another one. You refill your water glass and then his, too. He mumbles a thank you between chewing.

When the food is gone and he feels full and fulfilled and so warm, sitting there on the patio with you, and you sit up to reach for something on the table, he catches the end of your throw blanket before it slides off your shoulders. He gently tugs it back up. Your fingers brush his as you grasp the two ends together in front of you. His entire face is on fire now. Maybe you won’t notice it in the dim summer night.

“The file Bucky sent on you,” you say. Bob’s thoughts screech to a halt and start racing, all at the same time. If the weight in his chest weren’t so crushing, he’d laugh at how you manage to make his thoughts mimic an episode of Looney Tunes. You read his file? There was enough for Bucky to put together a file on him and send it to someone? Wait, of course there was. He recounts his juvenile record, his involvement in OXE’s Project Sentry, his psychological evaluations pre-OXE and those more recent — that file must be thick. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “You traveled South-East Asia?”

That’s probably the last question he expected from you. There it is again; his need to recalibrate his thoughts and his presence and his existence in his own body. He rubs his palms together, taps the fingers on his right hand to his left to count them.

“Uh — yeah. Mostly looking for drugs.”

“Were the constellations really that different?”

“A little. The big ones are the same, just flipped.” He glances at the sky, and this is probably the darkest it’ll get. Not enough to reveal the stars. “Too bad you can’t see most of them in the city.”

“North Star,” you say, pointing to a star in the distance.

“That’s…” he considers if he wants to correct you (he really doesn’t) but you turn to look at him, head cocked to the side slightly. Like a curious dog. Maybe it is true that owners take after their pets but he wouldn’t know. “That’s actually Dubhe. Second brightest in the Ursa Major. That,” He reaches his finger out and attempts to draw the constellation, “is the North Star”. Your eyes follow his movements and then trace the sky again in that pattern, as if you’re actually able to see the stars that aren’t there in this light.

“North Star is the brightest one in the sky, right?”

“It’s the brightest star in the Ursa Major, but there are brighter stars out there.”

Your eyes meet his and there it is again, a crushing weight on his chest and his blood roaring in his ears. And then you blink once, twice, and the feeling eases, not as oppressive but still present and he can hear the sounds of the city again. You smile at him, tightening the blanket around your shoulders.

“Do you know any other constellations?”

Bucky stares at the locker. The steel is faded and scratched, the door bent. Someone has tried to put their fist through it. He pulls off his glove, traces his fingertips across the dumps and dents on the door. The padlock on it is rusted. It crumbles in his hand with ease.

The hinges on the door creak.

He never came in here with a specific plan. But he saw the sign next to the door and his body moved on its own accord. And now he’s here and he’s looting through a dead woman’s belongings. Truly, how low can he go?

There’s a half-empty bottle of perfume on the top shelf. He picks it up and lifts it to his nose. The rational part of him knows it’s gone stale and disgusting but the irrational part, the part that longs for a soft and warm hand of the very worst and simultaneously very best Handler he’s ever had, overrides it. He scrunches his nose when the smell does not jog a memory, does not bring comfort. Of course it doesn’t and his own thoughts jeer at his actions. Of a dog, pitiful and weak and utterly loyal.

He caps the bottle and places it back on the shelf. His fingers bump against something small and round. He reaches further into the locker, feels around the dust and cobwebs until he finds it. Small, cylindrical. Lipstick, he realizes. He stares at it, debates, wars with himself. He should leave it where he found it, not keep mementos like some sort of psychopath. He should burn this place to the ground and scrub his skin clean, shove his head back into that machine to powerwash his brain and scramble the lingering sentiment towards his Handler. Instead, he slides the tube of lipstick into his left chest pocket.

Her coat is still there. It’s not the one she was wearing when he… Bucky grits his teeth. Her mouth was always so warm. Even with his metal and flesh fingers prying her jaw apart.

He feels the softness of the fur coat between his fingertips. He recalls how much she loved velvet. She always wore velvet coats, no matter how impractical. Fur coats, though, were reserved for special occasions. Maybe she had plans that day he ripped her into pieces.

He takes care to fold the dusty coat over his flesh arm, turns and leaves.

He makes it out before the others. The summer air is stuffy this far inland and the heat of the day lingers. Still, it's better than the stale air of rot and death inside the bunker. The sky is littered with stars. Bucky traces the constellations with his eyes. Ursa Minor. Ursa Major. It feels like they’re laughing at him, at the way he clings to his goddamn Handler.

“Hey.”

Yelena stops next to him. She looks into the sky like he does, squints at the stars. If she notices the coat slung over his arm (of course hse notices, he chastises his thoughts), she doesn’t say anything.

“All done?” He asks.

“We should leave before Alexei loots someone’s skull to display on the fake fireplace at home.”

“What, you not a fan of his interior decorating choices?”

Yelena snorts.

banners by @/cafekitsune

[butterfly-stitches]

INSTINCT.

[ Explicit ] // MDNI

AO3

Pairings: Russell Adler x Bell, Frank Woods x Bell Ensemble: Russell Adler, Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Reader, Bell (Implied Fem!Bell), Helen A. Park, Eleazar "Lazar" Azoulay, Lawrence Sims, Jason Hudson

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Military Inaccuracies, Medical Inaccuracies, A/B/O Prejudice, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medical Experimentation, Accidental Knotting, Knotting, Claiming Bites, Animal Instincts, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Older Man/Younger Woman, Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Second Person, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Betrayed by your own and left for dead, you were captured and interrogated by the enemy. But you gave them nothing. Desperate times call for desperate measures as the saying went. And by it, the use of MK-Ultra. Melding you into something more manageable. Making you believe that you work alongside the CIA and have known Adler for many years. But what your capturers didn’t expect was the byproduct of transmutation in the after process of menticide. Turning you, an alpha, into an omega. Now Adler and the rest of the team must learn to adapt and adjust to an omega in their military pack. All while trying to stop the puppeteering machinations of a once dormant Soviet spy network led by a man, and your old pack alpha, known only as Perseus.

But having an omega on the team only makes things more complicated than necessary. Especially one so unpredictable and so fresh out of MK-Ultra. An alpha and an omega naturally gravitate towards each other like a binary black hole. And no one, not even a highly desensitized alpha like Adler, can deny their instincts forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: variable.

Words: 2,272 Summary: In which you are remolded …

“You’re sure?” 

Outside a bright white lab room, in a just as bright hallway, two figures watched from behind a one-way glass window. The tall one had a cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth, puffing away leisurely despite the building being a smoke-free area. It was well-ventilated enough was his reasoning, stress was another. But the woman next to him didn’t complain nor comment, being an avid smoker herself. 

Nonetheless, the woman beside him nodded at the question.

“I am.” 

The man inhaled, his cigarette glowing brighter at the end with his deep intake. The woman next to him’s answer slowly seeped in his head. It was a heavy thing to process. His fatigue-addled brain only made it harder for him to come to terms with it and the situation that would follow. 

Smoke fell from the man’s marred lips.

“Run those tests again.”

But the woman right beside him didn’t move, shifting the clipboard that she cradled in her arms instead. Pages and pages of test results from various trials, medical and psych evaluations, were fastened to it. But she didn’t need to look them over again to double check and verify what they all indicated. She knew.

“Already done — they all came to the same conclusion.”

The man next to her was silent once more. His cigarette burned idly between his fingers as a thin smoky thread swirled away from the smoldering end. The woman handed him the clipboard, giving him a glance here and there as he flipped through the pages meticulously. Cigarette clamped between his lips as he read through the results. But the man found that it was as she claimed it to be. The test results were indicating the same thing; the subject’s designation status had indeed regressed. 

Wordlessly, the man handed back the clipboard. Pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew out the smoke with a long exhale, processing it with a newfound clarity. Still staring into the windowed wall from behind his dark aviators. Eyes still dead set on the coroner gurney in the far center of the room.

An alpha turned omega…

Well, that definitely threw a wrench into the works. 

Such a phenomenon wasn't empirically impossible – just extremely rare; intermittent and indeterminable. An idiopathic etiology of menticide in theory. Although not unprecedented. Alex Mason, another hapless guinea pig of MK-Ultra, had suffered the same thing. Over time, throughout the process, Mason’s designation status had wholly changed too. At the flip of a switch, his biology had altered entirely in order to adapt to his new status. As well as the entire rewiring of an already broken brain. But Mason's biological transmutation had not been as drastic as the subject’s. Not as non-sequential; Having only turned from being an alpha to a beta. 

Even the man’s own brief employment with the Advanced Technologies and Applications program in Eastern Kentucky couldn’t replicate or even culminate such results in their human trials and experimentations. Yet he was used to things not all going according to plan, adapting and thinking on your feet was a part of the job. But this… this was more of a major setback than he preferred. Omegas only made things more complex than necessary.

“Adler?” The woman next to him lifted her thin brow at him as he brewed in his thoughts. Concerned by his prolonged silence. But his eyes didn't move to meet her inquisitive look. 

“This doesn’t change our mission.” He informed her. 

“Clearly,” She said, turning back around to view the bright room in front of them. Just like the older man next to her. “But it does make things quite difficult, however.”

Adler exhaled a smoky breath. And, after a moment, asked. “How do you think we should approach this then, Park?”

The woman next to him audibly hummed. Lips pursed in thought as her manicured fingernails drummed on the back of the clipboard. “Well, I suppose we still stick to the plan. With minor adjustments of course.”

“Minor adjustments?” 

Agent Park nodded. “And more precautions, yes. The subject will need a lot more necessities than before. More support, more monitoring. Omegas can be quite… ”

“Needy.” He finished her sentence. 

Park, in turn, gave Adler a look, sharp eyes narrowing. Sensing his surly mood. “ Sensitive . Omegas can easily go into distress if their needs aren’t met, especially if they can’t adjust to new territory. Let alone a new pack. No matter how temporary it will be.”

Adler went quiet again. Half cigarette burned idly between his fingers. He felt the fatigue weigh down on him even more now. The caffeinated surge of energy from his dark roast coffee prior was starting to wear off. And another cigarette wouldn’t hurt as well. 

“Didn’t take you for such an advocate, Park.”

“Only when necessary. It's effective when I encounter stubborn men too set in their ways.”

The beta woman’s goading was lighthearted, he knew. An attempt to nullify the sullenness that was growing palpable in the air. But he brushed it off nonetheless, like a piece of lint on his shirt.

Park eyed Adler. Watched as he pulled his aviators off and rubbed a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Massaging at the stress gathered there, where his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Adler blew out a harsh smoke-filled sigh, hanging his aviators on his woolen vest. The bright fluorescent lighting was starting to make his head throb. 

“Adler. There’s no other contingency plan to fall back onto. In order to get what we need and when we need it, accommodations are necessary whether we like it or not. This is the only way.”

But Adler knew Park was right. To try and construct another course of action would only be detrimental in the long run. Time was going without a hitch or a hurdle. And who was he to ask it to change its nature? Results needed to be made and progress needed to be set into motion. 

“Guess, you’re right. We have no choice but to stick with the plan.” 

“With adjustments, of course.” Park added on.

Adler shifted forward, leaning his weight on the narrow windowsill. His aviators on the collar of his wool sweater vest clunked against the high clearance badge on his lanyard. They both stood there stationary, both occupied with their own thoughts.

“Hudson might burst a blood vessel over this.” Adler then said, breaking the silence between them. 

With a sardonic curl of her oxblood lips, Park only snickered. “Let’s hope so. It beats having him breathing down our necks for once.”

Adler didn’t say much more after that. Only stared into the lab room towards you – the sedated subject strapped to the gurney in the far center. A shallow crease soon appeared between his brows, tongue running across gritted teeth, tracing along pointed canines. 

An alpha turned omega…

How pathetic. 

It was almost pitiful. To witness how far the mighty had fallen. Not just for a Russian loyalist so high on Perseus’ totem pole, but as an alpha. For one’s very nature, one’s entire being to up and change. To crack and crumble under deceit and pressure. From a great redwood that stood tall against the gales only to be felled; whittled down until you were nothing but splinters of firewood. 

Admittedly, he had been impressed at first; Alpha to Alpha, face to face. Understanding of your disposition. Your stubbornness, your aggression, your loyalty to your pack’s idealism. Your piety to your pack alpha: Perseus. Even for a person betrayed by one of your own. Resilient to any traditional methods in their arsenal. Unbroken, unbridled. Even throughout the long hours of interrogation and torture. How shameful you were now. Pliant and pacified. An inferiority before him now. Adler supposed that you were never a true alpha in the end. There was always a weakness inside you it seemed. And such weakness needed to be culled.

But those grievances were more idiosyncratic, a disgraceful thing to his inner alpha. Your subjugation from MK-Ultra made you more useful now. Even if your brain was nothing but pulp and rind in the end. Omega or not, you were a vital asset now more than ever. 

And Adler would make sure to get use out of you. 

He was growing restive. 

Stuck in the office, sitting around all day, and doing nothing but paperwork. For a man of action like Adler, it was a fate worse than death. Like an addict, he was feening; an adrenaline junkie without an arrant dosage of the rush that came naturally within his line of work. What was supposedly a short-term position, lasting no longer than a few days, turned into a week of doing nothing but paperwork. He was a workaholic. But a white-collar worker was an antithesis to his very being. Being idle for so long was eating away at his composure and his patience wore paper thin.

But orders were orders. And protocol preceded him.

Adler had just finished up his tedious workload, eyes stinging from staring at papers all day, when there came a knocking on his office door. He turned just as Park opened the door, giving her a nod as she entered inside his space. The sterile scent of antiseptic and bleach clung to her, overpowering the stench of stale smoke and coffee in the room. A concentrated contrast that made Adler crinkle his nose at it. Feeling an urge to sneeze in order to clear his sinuses.

He watched as Park settled herself across the room, leaning against the filing cabinets in front of the desk. But even from afar, Adler could see her exhaustion. The droop in her usual head-held-up-high posture. Dark bags under her eyes, the blanch of her skin. Noticeable no matter how much Park tried to hide it with concealer and blush.

Adler leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at her. “Any updates?” 

“Yes. The sedation was a success and the subject is recovering fairly well. Just a bit of sickness from being under sedation, largely for longer than was anticipated. But a full recovery is to be expected.”

He hummed. “It lasted longer than I thought.” 

The undercurrent of disgruntlement wasn’t lost on Park, especially as beta. So biologically intuited with the influx of emotions, even the slightest change. The beta woman adjusted the reading glasses on her face. 

“Unsurprisingly. First heats are unpredictable in how long they last. Some last a few days, even weeks. But even after, the heats that follow remain irregular. It takes months before they start to stabilize. Especially without an alpha to help.”

Adler made an interested noise. Mindlessly taking a sip of coffee that had long grown cold. “Seems intricate.”

“Quite so.” The beta woman let out a soft sigh, “But for the subject’s first heat to come so suddenly after MK-Ultra well …” Park paused then shook her head as if to stop her overthinking, “Well, no need to dwell on it further. It’s one less thing to worry about in Berlin. I suppose we were lucky in that regard.” 

“Hm, some are luckier than others.”

Park crossed her arms, eyeing Adler. 

“I suppose so.” She said, “But you know the procedures. You can’t be anywhere near the lab. You’re lucky you were even allowed to work, let alone be at the facility.”

“I can control myself.” He fished out a cigarette carton from the pocket of his leather jacket hanging off the coat rack next to him. “But filling out paperwork and filing it away all day’s not what I signed up for. S’not my job.”

Park smiled. “I think it quite suits you actually.”

Adler’s lips pressed tight, tapping the carton against his hand until a cigarette slid out onto his palm. “Do I have clearance, Park?”

She regarded him for a moment. “You do.”

“Good.” Adler settled the cigarette between his lips. “About time.” 

“You know patience is a virtue. Has anyone told you that, Adler?” Park exhaled out.

“All the time.” He mumbled behind his teeth, thumbing at his lighter. The cigarette in his mouth smoldered, catching the flame. And Adler inhaled. Then blew smoke out in a slow and steady exhale of breath. “But in my experience, patience is nothing but passivity and a goddamn waste of time.”

“As I said: stubborn men too set in their ways.”

Adler only huffed on his cigarette, lip curled at the edge. 

“We leave in a week. The subject will be ready before then.”

Park turned to leave but stopped herself, turning on her heel as she looked at the man quietly. “And Adler?”

He canted his head to the side towards Park standing right in the doorway. Cigarette resting between his blunt fingertips, simmering low. Lips pressed into a fine line. 

“Happy Birthday.”

She then left with the shut of the door and the click of heels fading down the hallway. Leaving the pristine smell of the lab lingering in the office. Despite its strong scent, Adler found some relief with it. Back on the job and back on the hunt for an entity that had eluded him for decades. He lifted a hand up his face and over his scarred cheek. Delicately, calloused fingers ghosted over the plunging trenches of the Lichtenberg-like scar; a lightning strike incised into flesh. Jagged and complex. Starting from his chin, the rough terrain of his scars branched through his lips and across his left buccal plane like a tree canopy. 

A reminder carved deep into the skin; a failure that Adler would not repeat twice.

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A/N:

Critique welcomed and encouraged as long as it is constructive and polite (don't be rude/mean pretty please ◡̈ ).

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[commodorez]

Random questions that I never thought to ask when I was working on my computer science degree:

Who devised the concept of a sign bit for representing negative numbers in binary?

Where did 2's compliment subtraction come from?

And when dealing with base 10, where did 1's compliment come from for the sake of using mechanical adding machines?

Are there other "X's compliment" methods for achieving different calculations with limited equipment?

Do any of them serve functions beyond the aforementioned subtraction?

Where's a mathematician when I need one? So many of these things feel like there's an important discovery and development process involved that may be over my head, but I kinda still want to hear it.

[goo34ter]

Take The Bridge Back to Me

short series that takes place during season one of Arcane when Viktor begins to become consumed with discovering the mystery of the Hex Core. where you, the reader ,worry for his health but also the path he is paving, trying time and time again to extend an olive branch of desire asking him to slow down and step back.

An argument ensues when emotions come to a head, but we center around the aftermath and self discovery that follows the storm. Slowly but surely you gravitate towards one another once more, like a binary star system and unescapable orbiting, walking the delicate bridge back to one another.

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Damaged Buttresses

The night of your unwarranted fight with Viktor did not aid in your ever present and recent struggle with sleep. Only adding to the plethora of reasons you should be awake, mind swarming with guilty phrases, accusing you of being horrible and venomous. Then your mind wormed a thought so devastating after your fight, that you believed you were the worst person to walk Runeterra." Will I ever see his figure full of life again? Will the next time I see him be in a hospital bed? Will he die with my venomous words and sour accusations in his mind?” The coming few days after didn't fair smoothly either, brain addled with guilt and worry, but heart too stubborn and broken to be the first to reach out, but nor did Viktor. You had suspected as much, that a man with such pride and perseverance as himself, Viktor would elongate your time apart. Stewing on his emotions, blinding himself with work as a repercussion. But was it such a repercussion when it was his obsession? His sustenance for life, his reason for living? 

Perhaps, such a love for science and machines has delved into that of an obsession, all consuming and devouring, festering in the brain, tempting and itching till relief comes in the form of answers and discoveries. But what lengths does he go to quell the bubbling urges? Will he leave a bloody trail sodden with not only his own but the people’s around him? Will there be anything left once he decides it's enough, that he is satiated and full. Will he ever be satisfied? With so many unanswered questions you can't help but think there's more harm than good with the road he's chosen to walk. But sacrifices must be made for the efforts of success and progress, simply, they should not be the livelihood and health of the man you love. 

By the time you've racked up such a list of unanswered questions you have reached the third day with no contact with Viktor, both parties riddled with avoidance and a wounded pride, raw with vulnerability, emotions laid bare on the table for each other to examine, to scrutinize. Yet your each passing thought is of the Man, always circling back,;to the hurt in his eyes when you insulted his pride, the angry slam of his cane, his shock when you screamed your concerns. 

He's never seen you so angry, you realize, always practicing the action of letting emotions wash over you to remain steady with honesty passionately, rather than angrily. His reactions to your words may not have simply been because they upset him, but because this uncategorized eruption of an emotion was thrown in his face, leaving him unprepared while already riddled with exhaustion and fatigue. Despite his many ethereal traits and capabilities, he is human too, and possesses the fragility of the human heart, so easily wounded.

As you think about this man, so deeply affected by his soul, the third night without him, you stand in the small kitchen of your one shared apartment. Gaze occasionally shifting to the worn down couch in the living area, expecting a familiar figure to be stretched out along its cushions, lazily poised while reading a book or jotting down thoughts. Yet, each glance is only met with the emptiness of the couch cushions bare of any figure or weight, merely an outline of what should be. shifting your body weight to your left, hip jutting out to support your shift of balance as you stand, It's evening, you realize, the day seemed to slip through your grasp so effortlessly the remembrance of work seems more like a feverish dream rather than reality.

Similarly, Viktor had been struggling along the three days since your painful dispute. The first night when he had left, he had wanted to open the bedroom door, kneel at your feet and hug your knees, pleading for forgiveness, a crumb of salvation to his tormented and overworked mind. Viktor is no fool, but has many flaws, much like the rest of mankind he too possesses the ability of incapability. He can become consumed, in thought, in work, in wonder, in discovery, and in creation, that it widdles him down to nothing; leaving you to pick up the pieces and build him up from the skeleton he has left behind. A habit he deems, though, it is more a trait. It's not like the clicking of your heels before leaving home, or twirling of hair as you think, more embedded within his soul, hard to shake as it is part of him. Yet, he is capable of reflection, though you have so colorfully informed him he does no such thing; Reflecting on his actions towards you and himself he can observe where his errors lay. 

The Hexcore has consumed him, his thoughts, his time, and his attention, leaving nothing for you in return. He’s close to a discovery he knows, but it's as if the moment he solves one puzzle the Hexcore presents him with another, so tempting like a juicy steak after months of starvation, he cannot resist himself. Temptation made obsession he realizes, instead of simply being tempted to discover the possibilities of the Hex Core, what he might be able to achieve, what it might lead them to do, he has allowed himself to obsess over its every capability. But you had been wrong too, very little of his health did you know about, he made sure of that. He is the one in his body, aware of its deterioration, does not need the person he loves most pointing out something so plainly obvious. Oh but he kept you in the dark about his health. He simply wanted to bask in ignorance a little while longer, pretend his health wasn't an issue, coming home to you after a long night at work like a dog deserving of treat.Though if you pushed a little more, inquired a few more times, Viktor would have taken you with him to his next visit. Allowed the Doctors to lay out every unfixable ailment, finally allowing you to bear witness to the ugly truth.

Through thought, Viktor leans to his right, seated at his desk in the laboratory, Hex core in his peripheral. He assumes the position of the thinker, resting his elbow on the table instead of knee, the damn joint never seems to stop aching these days, much like the rest of him. He glares, not at anything in particular, but glares none the less. Frustration needing somewhere to escape, somewhere to be expressed. The only action he can think of that uses the least amount of energy is the knotting of brows and an intense stare. Then when an ache forms between his brows, he shifts his focus to the papers in his line of sight, eyes straining to read equations and diagrams. When had it become so hard to see? Ah, its evening, room no longer lit by the harsh sun, instead what little light produced by distant terrestrial bodies bleeds in languidly. Like they're not in a hurry to provide him with the ability to see, unlike the sun that seems ever eager to provide him with sight.

What must be done to right his wrongs? Leave the hexcore behind sure, but he's so close to discovering how it can rejuvenate life, it could be utilized for so much more, to heal disease, injury, himself. He can't stop now. But then there's you, sweet decadent you, deserving of the world, laid on a golden platter for your every whim and plea. He can't split himself in two, though at this moment he wishes he could. Sending his better half to your door and embracing your figure with a reverence to make even the gods jealous. No, what would he say to you? He needs more time to think, to reflect, to formulate the correct phrase of words that would soothe a balm over your broken heart. One more day over obsessing on the Hex core couldn't hurt.

 But as Viktor works, he finds himself more focused on you, your scream of what could almost be described as agony during the argument, the fisting of your lovely hair he's sure hurt and stung like venom. What would he say? Very few times has he found it hard to find phrases, oftentimes having to shorten their length or hold his tongue. But now, he finds himself lost in how to begin, in where to start, maybe actions are better? But then what would he do, how would he do it? Too many questions left unanswered, think, think! As if to mock him the Hexcore spins and pulses in a flurry of movements, as if responding to his inner turmoil. At this insulting reaction from the Hex Core, Viktor thinks back to the conversation he had with Jayce later this afternoon, and their disagreement with Hiemerdinger. The yordle had demanded they destroy the Hex Core, deeming it nothing more than a destructive bad omen for Piltover. Infuriating, how could someone as old as him see past the potential of such a device, what humanity could accomplish? But it was his selfish desires to continue living that made him more sour towards the professor. And it was with Jayce's urgings that led him to pull himself up from his desk, “do what you have to” the words rattled in his mind like an echoing voice in a cave with nowhere to go. He knew just the person to inquire about this struggle, now, understood the drive for blind pursuit. 

Love, and desperation. Truly an ugly mix.

[mesyakee]

Between Classes And Glances (CHAPTER2)

Characters: Prof!levi x f!reader, prof!hange, prof!erwin, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Annie, Reiner, Bertolt, Jean, Connie, Sasha

Content & Warnings: Age gap (reader is 20, levi is 25), cursing, slowburn, tensions for the giggles, in denial (both levi and reader), Hange's pronounce are they/them following because their canonically non-binary

A/N: THIS IS WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON FOR BOTH POVS! okay so I decided to do another chapter because i was bored out of my mind, i might also upload this on wattpad

WC: 18k — part 1, part 2

Morning hit like a brick

The blaring sound of Sasha’s alarm—something that sounded suspiciously like a chicken clucking—jerked all three of us awake.

I groaned and reached blindly for my phone. “Why is your alarm like that?”

Sasha, still half-buried under her blanket, muttered, “It’s the only thing that makes me get up. Reminds me of the farm”

Mikasa was already sitting up, stretching with her usual grace and calm. “Hange’s class is in an hour,” she said simply, slipping off her bed and heading straight for the bathroom with a towel slung over her shoulder.

I sat up, hair a mess, and blinked around the dorm. “I’ve got Erwin first.” I yawned. “Which means I have to mentally prepare myself to rethink my life decisions”

Sasha rolled over dramatically. “I have class in another building. Why did I do this to myself? Why?!”

“Because you heard their vending machine has three types of kitkats,” Mikasa said through the door, already brushing her teeth.

“I stand by my choices,” Sasha mumbled.

Eventually, we all shuffled through our morning rituals. I took a hot shower, letting the steam wake me up properly, and pulled on a pair of beige baggy pants and a white button up. Practical, comfortable—ready to face whatever Erwin or Levi threw my way or not. I threw my hair up in a loose ponytail, barely bothering to do anything fancy.

Mikasa came out dressed in clean, dark jeans and a fitted long-sleeve button up shirt, with her jacket draped over her arm. Her hair was clamped back. Efficient, as always.

Sasha went for a white hoodie with a strawberry design on it, jeans, and sneakers—the kind of outfit that said “I will definitely nap in the library later.”

Once ready, we sat together for a quick breakfast—instant noodles, apples, and whatever snacks were left from yesterday’s stash. Mikasa quietly sipped coffee. Sasha double-fisted a juice box and a granola bar.

“Alright,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Erwin first, Levi second.”

“Hange first,” Mikasa said, nodding.

“Pudding machine first,” Sasha added with a salute.

We left the dorm together, the morning sun peeking through the windows as we stepped into the flow of students heading to their classes.

Another day, another mental battle

The morning air was cool and a little crisp. The courtyard between buildings buzzed faintly with other students heading off in every direction. As we reached the walkway, Connie and Jean came jogging over, both looking half-awake.

“Morning brochacho's,” Connie greeted jokingly

Jean rubbed his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Someone tell me why I’m awake before nine again?”

“Because, you chose humanities and regret it now,” Mikasa answered flatly.

We all turned the corner together just as Eren and Armin joined from the path that led around the main quad.

“You guys are slow,” Eren said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You’re early,” I countered. “Trying to impress Levi already?”

Eren groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Armin offered a small wave. “Hey… everyone ready for day two?”

“Barely,” Jean muttered.

As our group moved along the path together, I glanced across the lawn at the dormitory building next door that says 'Eldia-Marley Annex Bldg. 1'. That was where Reiner, Annie, and Bertolt stayed Different wing, different routines. But we did all ended up circling the same mess eventually.

We started splitting off toward our respective halls and waved goodbye—Sasha with a resigned sigh toward the far building, Mikasa toward the science wing with her usual quiet focus, and the rest of us toward the main lecture hall.

Day two. Round two. Great

Two hours later…

Erwin had broken my brain.

I shuffled out of the lecture hall, mentally exhausted and wondering if I’d ever understand how leadership theory could feel like a personal existential crisis. By the time I reached the building for Levi’s class, I had just enough time to settle in beside Eren and Armin before the devil man himself walked in.

Levi’s entrance was quiet but somehow made the entire room snap to attention. He set his folders down, glanced once around the room, and began without preamble.

“Reflection assignments were due at midnight,” he said, tone clipped. “That wasn’t a suggestion. That was your first deadline in this course. If you failed that, I question how you plan to handle anything more complex.”

Several students shifted awkwardly in their seats.

“Jaeger,” Levi continued, eyes cutting sharply toward our row, “would you care to explain why your submission came in at 2:37a.m.?"

Eren blinked. “Uh… I was working on it, but then I thought I submitted it, and—”

“Stop.” Levi raised a hand, gaze flat. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”

Eren sat back, mouth half-open, completely silenced.

He began calling out the other late-passers aswell

“It’s the first week,” Levi said, walking slowly across the front of the class. “So I will let it slide. But next time, extremely late work gets zero credit. Understood?”

Eren and other students nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Levi’s eyes flicked across the room—and landed on me.

It lasted no more than a few seconds, but the moment froze. There was nothing soft in his expression, but something in the intensity made it hard to breathe. I quickly looked down at my notebook, but the heat in my face betrayed me.

Beside me, Eren glanced sideways, then smirked.

“Ohhh,” he whispered, just low enough. “Somebody’s got Professor Levi’s attention.” and started humming the song careless whisper silently but loud enough for me and armin to hear

I shot him a glare. “Shut the fuck up eren”

Armin leaned slightly forward, eyes darting between me and Levi. “Don’t provoke him, Eren. You already got called out once.”

“I’m just saying,” Eren muttered, still grinning. “He didn’t even blink at anyone else.”

“Can we focus?” I hissed, flipping a page just to look busy.

Armin leaned closer to me, voice quiet. “You okay? That was… gut wrenching.”

I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak.

At the front of the room, Levi continued the lecture as though nothing had happened, voice steady and authoritative. But every time he looked in my direction, I felt it again—that sharp, electric pull.

And I wasn’t the only one who noticed it anymore, Great. Just great

Levi dismissed the class with his usual sharp finality, voice clipped and precise. Chairs scraped back as students filed out, the usual low buzz of complaints trailing behind them. Armin and eren offered a quick wave as they left, but I stayed behind, gathering my things slowly.

I didn’t have to stay—but something about the way Levi had handled the topic today stuck with me. I hesitated a second longer, then walked up to the front of the room.

He didn’t look up from his notes when he spoke. “Yes?”

“I have a question,” I said, shifting the strap on my shoulder. “About the section you mentioned on structural imbalance in hierarchical systems. You said it creates internal collapse—but how do you know when it’s already started? When it’s too late to fix?”

Levi glanced up and met mine OH LORD HE'S FINE. His expression didn’t change, but his attention sharpened.

“That’s not in the reading,” he said.

“I know.”

He paused, then closed the folder he was holding. “Most people don’t ask questions like that in the first week.”

“Most people don’t lecture like that in the first week,” I said before I could stop myself.

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. Amusement? Maybe. It was gone too fast.

He stepped around the desk, arms crossed. “You’ll know it’s too late when those at the top stop listening. Or when those at the bottom stop caring.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing it. “That’s… kind of bleak?"

“Realistic,” he said. “Which is what this course is. If you want easy answers, you’re in the wrong room.”

There was a pause. His eyes stayed on me—not exactly warm, but not cold either. Just... assessing.

“You understood more than I expected,” he said. “Keep going.”

I gave a small, surprised laugh. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to anyone so far.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, already heading for the door. But just before he stepped out, he added without turning around, “If you have more questions—ask. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

The door clicked softly behind him.

I stood alone in the room, heart a little louder than it had been a minute ago.

He wasn’t warm. He wasn’t friendly. But he noticed.

And that was enough to keep me thinking long after he was gone.

By the time I got back to the dorm, the sun was starting to dip behind the campus buildings, casting everything in a soft golden haze. The hallway smelled faintly of old carpet and instant noodles.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside to find Sasha upside down on her bed, legs up the wall, a bag of chips balanced on her stomach and scrolling through her phone. Mikasa sat at her desk, flipping through notes, the lamplight catching the edge of her hair.

Sasha looked up—technically down—and grinned. “Did you survive Levi Round Two?”

I tossed my bag onto my chair and sank onto the bed. “Barely.”

Mikasa glanced over. “He called on you?”

“No,” I said, pulling a pillow over my face. “I stayed after class.”

That made both of them pause. “You what?!” Sasha sat up, chips forgotten. “You talked to Levi? Voluntarily?”

I peeked out from under the pillow. “I had a question.”

Mikasa was watching me now, brow slightly raised. “And?”

“And he answered it,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Kinda. In his usual terrifying way.”

Sasha leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Was it scary? Did he glare? Did he say something cryptic and then disappear into the shadows?”

“He said I understood more than he expected.”

Sasha froze. “Wait, what?!”

Even Mikasa blinked. “That’s... oddly nice. For him.”

I shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t replaying in my head every five seconds. “I think it was a compliment. Maybe. Sort of. i dont know”

Sasha threw a chip in the air and caught it in her mouth. “You have a crush on your professor "

“I do not.”

“You totally — definitely do.”

Mikasa didn’t say anything, but she didn’t deny it either.

I groaned again and flopped back on the bed. “This is a disaster.”

“Sounds like the start of something,” Sasha said with a smirk.

Mikasa turned back to her notes, but I saw the small smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

Im done for.

It was a Friday afternoon and the weather was too nice to stay indoors, so we ended up sprawled across the grass near the east quad—an unofficial end-of-week ritual that had formed without anyone really planning it. Sasha had brought snacks, Jean dragged out a speaker, and somehow we had a full-blown mini picnic happening.

Connie was tossing grapes into Jean’s mouth (badly), Sasha was halfway through her third iced drink and getting a brainfreeze, and Mikasa had her earbuds in—one of them anyway—while Eren sat beside her, leaning close to show her something on his phone.

She didn’t lean away.

“I’m telling you, it’s not a real tournament unless someone breaks a chair,” Eren insisted, grinning.

Mikasa gave him a dry look but didn’t argue. “You’re just mad you lost last time.”

Armin was sitting nearby with Annie, the two of them deep in conversation about something that involved furrowed brows and small nods. She wasn’t smiling, but she hadn’t gotten up and walked away either—which, by Annie standards, was practically a confession of friendship.

Meanwhile, I sat on a folded blanket with my drink, trying not to look like my thoughts were still halfway stuck in Levi’s classroom.

Too late.

“You’re thinking about him,” Sasha whispered, flopping down beside me. “Don’t lie.”

“’m not,” I said.

“You so are,” she sing-songed.

From his spot near the speaker, Connie looked over. “Wait, are we talking about Levi again?”

“Shhh!!” Sasha hissed. “We’re being subtle.”

“You're not,” Mikasa said without looking up.

Before I could protest, Jean raised an eyebrow. “Okay, now I’m curious. Did something happen? Like... academically intense eye contact OR se—”

“Guys— Jean what the hell,” I groaned. “He’s just my professor.”

“That you stayed after class for,” Sasha added helpfully.

“Once!”

“And blushed about it later,” Mikasa added, scrolling on her phone.

I shot her a betrayed look. “I did not blush.”

“You definitely did,” Armin said softly without looking up from the notes he and Annie were now sharing.

Annie glanced up at me. “You could do worse.”

That shut everyone up for a second.

Jean let out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s approval from Annie. That’s practically a marriage agreement.”

She didn’t lean away.

Eren looked over briefly, then shrugged. “Whatever. As long as he doesn’t give us a pop quiz about it.” Sasha laughed so hard she spilled her drink.

I leaned back, trying not to smile, but my cheeks betrayed me. The teasing didn’t bother me as much as it probably should have. Maybe because under all the noise and chaos, there was a quiet comfort in how everyone was slowly finding their own people.

Even me.

Second week into the semester and it already feels like a kick on the ass, It's one of those mid week slumps where your brain felt like it had been wrung out.

After Erwin’s class and a half-hearted attempt to study in the dorm lounge, you decided a walk and caffeine were definitely a need. The quiet off-campus coffee shop was your go-to for moments like this—dim lighting, mellow playlists, and fewer people from campus buzzing about deadlines.

As you stepped inside, the bell over the door gave a soft jingle. The smell of roasted beans and vanilla syrup hit my nostiy immediately, soothing in its familiarity.

That’s when you saw him.

Levi sat in the far corner by the window, mostly hidden behind a potted plant and the curve of a hanging lamp. A few worn textbooks and a folder were spread out in front of him. He held the rim of the tea cup in one hand, turning a pen over with the other. His posture was relaxed but focused— back straight, eyes down.

You thought about backing out. He hadn’t seen you yet. But as you lingered near the counter, he looked up.

His gaze met yours, unreadable as ever. Then he gave a slight nod.

You ordered your drink—iced coffee and something sweet, because you deserved it—and tried to act casual as you waited near the pick-up counter.

“Sit down,” Levi said, not looking up from his notebook.

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re hovering. It’s distracting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning to interrupt.”

“Didn’t say you were. But you’re still hovering.”

There wasn’t a hint of invitation in his voice, but there wasn’t rejection either. Just… Levi.

You took your drink and sat across from him. The table was small, tucked against the window. Outside, campus traffic passed by in a slow trickle.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” you said after a few sips.

“I don’t live in the classroom,” he replied dryly. “Contrary to popular belief.”

You smirked. “That’s a strong image.”

He didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly.

A few quiet minutes passed. You stirred your drink. He scribbled a note in the margin of a paper. It wasn’t awkward—just quiet. Eventually, he spoke again.

“You handled the last class well. You weren’t overexplaining this time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That was overexplaining?”

“You have the habit when you’re unsure.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “But you’re getting better.”

“Thanks,” you said after a beat. “I think.”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s a sign you’re paying attention.” You rolled your eyes, but not unkindly. “Noted.” He stood up first, gathering his things with practiced efficiency.

“Don’t get lazy next week,” he added as he passed you. "I’ll try not to hover either,” you called after him.

That earned you an actual glance over the shoulder—brief, unreadable, but definitely there. Then he was gone.

You stayed for a few more minutes, sipping your drink and watching the door. Weirdly, you felt more awake than you had all day. It was probably because of the caffeine...right?

You should’ve known the moment you walked into the dormitory lounge, someone was going to say something.

Sasha spotted you first. She was sprawled on the couch like a cat in a sunbeam, a half-eaten bag of chips on her lap.

“There she is,” she said, grinning. “café hopper”

“Hi,” you said cautiously, setting your drink down and peeling off your jacket.

Connie looked up from his phone. “Heard you had a very academic moment off-campus today.” You frowned. “From who?”

“Mikasaaa,” Sasha sing-songed. “She saw you leaving the coffee place. Said you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Or, ‘ya know, a strict hot professor.” Mikasa didn’t even glance up from her book. “He looked more surprised than she did.”

“I wasn’t surprised,” you said quickly. “I was… recovering.”

“From what?” Jean asked as he came in with a protein bar and a knowing smirk. “Levi giving you life advice over an iced coffee?”

“It wasn’t even like that,” you muttered.

“Oh?” Armin looked genuinely curious from where he was sketching something out beside Annie. “Then what was it like?”

You hesitated. “He told me I’m improving in class.”

There was a beat of silence before Sasha stage-whispered, “You’re telling me this man saw you at a coffee shop and gave you a performance review?”

“That’s… very on brand,” Mikasa admitted.

“Did he sit with you?” Eren asked, only half-listening while fiddling with a game on his phone. “He told me to sit.” you responded

That did it.

Jean leaned back and whistled. “Damn. He invited you to sit? thats probably the nicest thing he did to a student”

“Sounds romantic,” Connie added, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I will literally throw this drink at all of you.”

“You know what I think?” Sasha said dramatically, standing up like she was about to make a declaration. “I think if you two ever dated, your entire relationship would just be coffee and long pauses.”

“And uncomfortably intense eye contact,” Jean added—shuddering.

Armin coughed lightly, maybe trying not to laugh. Annie just rolled her eyes but didn’t deny anything.

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us!,” Sasha said sweetly, tossing you the rest of her chips. “But not as much as you love your stern, nonchalant tea man.”

“Goodnight!” you said, standing up.

“Tell him we said hi!” Connie called after you.

You escaped before they could launch into another round of dramatic reenactments, Eren miming Levi's scowl and Jean trying (and failing) to imitate your flustered reaction.

By the time you reached your shared dorm room, the sun was starting to set, casting soft golden streaks through the window. You dropped your bag by the door, kicked off your shoes, and flopped face-first onto your bed with a muffled groan.

The silence was a relief.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. The teasing was funny—annoying, yes, but funny. Still, now that you were alone, the scene from earlier played back in your head more clearly.

The quiet hum of the coffee shop. The way Levi had looked up at you—surprised, but not unwelcoming. The fact that he'd told you to sit.

That part shouldn’t have made your stomach flip, but it did.

It lingered.

You turned your head into the pillow. “Goddamnit” you muttered.

Levi's POV

The long oak table at Erwin’s house had become our unofficial meeting spot—scattered with papers, open laptops, and untouched mugs of cooling tea. I sat with my eyes flicking over a stack of essays I've been grading for the past hour, though nothing was really sinking in.

Across from me, Hange sipped from a cracked mug with a poorly drawn Titan on the side. Their eyes kept darting to me, more amused with each glance.

Erwin, sitting at the head of the table, closed a folder with a quiet sigh. “You’ve been staring at that same page for fifteen minutes, Levi.”

“I’m reading,” I said flatly.

“You’re moping,” Hange cut in, grinning. “Which usually means one thing: something... or someone is stuck in your head.”

I didn’t respond.

Hange leaned forward with a glint in their eye. “So… wanna talk about your little coffee shop reunion?”

My pen froze over the margin. “It wasn’t a reunion.” i responded

“Mm, right. Just a professor and a student casually bumping into each other off-campus. Sharing a table. Having a cozy academic chat.”

I shot Hange a glare.

Erwin looked up from his notes, eyes narrowing slightly in concern. “Is this a student we should be aware of?”

Hange shrugged, too pleased. “Not in a bad way. She’s sharp. I’ve seen her in the halls. Good posture, actually listens when others are talking—which is rare for undergrads.”

“She asked about the material from class,” I said, “That’s it.”

Hange snorted. “Sure. But you didn’t answer when I asked what she asked, and you've been staring at your grading paper like it insulted your mother."

“I’m not discussing this,” I interrupted.

The room fell quiet for a beat.

Erwin studied me carefully, then spoke with quiet weight. “Levi. If something’s developing, even unintentionally, it’s best to stay aware of it.”

“There’s nothing developing,” I said defensively. “She’s just… curious. Focused.”

Hange nudged erwin "‘Ya hear that? thats basically levi's version of writing a sonnet" before grabbing their mug

Hange smiled over the rim of their mug. “And you also noticed that. Huh, and you're being deeefennnsiveee" hange said slowly and teasingly.

"Tch, im not." I responded, hange didnt respond and shrugged their shoulders. we just went back to reading.

But I couldn't bring myself to move my pen.

Your/Reader POV

The door clicked open and in came the soft buzz of laughter and voices from the dorm lounge down the hall. Mikasa stepped in first, followed by Sasha, both carrying half-finished drinks and snacks from whatever they’d scavenged during their hangout with the others.

Sasha kicked the door shut behind her. “Annie finally told a joke. Connie looked like he saw God.”

Mikasa dropped her jacket on the hook. “It was more of a threat disguised as humor.”

But they both stopped when they saw me still lying flat on my bed, socks still on, eyes glued to the ceiling like I’d just had a personal crisis. Which… I kind of had.

Sasha blinked. “You good?”

I bolted upright like I hadn’t just been replaying every second of the coffee shop run-in for the past twenty minutes. “Fine!”

Mikasa raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow and went to her desk without saying anything.

Sasha flopped onto her bed and peeled open a snack bar. “You sure? You’re giving ‘internal monologue’ energy.”

I sank back into my mattress with a groan, muffling my face into a pillow. “God. I need to get a grip.”

Mikasa opened her laptop, the quiet click of the keys somehow louder than my thoughts.

Sasha unwrapped her snack bar, watching me with interest. “If you're thinking about levi, blink twice.”

I didn't move.

She gasped way too dramatically. “You did!”

Okay. so he's just my professor, so what?

I let out a breath and rolled to the side, muttering, “This is fine. Totally fine.”

But the truth was… I could still hear his voice in my head like a line i keep rereading

And I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted it to stop.

uhhh the slowburn is slowburning🤞🏻

©mesyakee — all rights reserved

[causenessus]

binary stars

part 0.05. intros. GROUP COUNSELING HOURS

NOW FEATURING...

THE STAR AND HER PLANETS ‧₊˚✩彡

y/n l/n .°˖✧

manager of the seijoh volleyball team after she quit playing in secondary school to focus on her studies and because she did not appreciate the radioactive energy of the girls' volleyball team. grew up alongside tooru and hajime due to proximity and their shared love for volleyball. now co-parents the boys’ volleyball team alongside hajime as she tries to convince herself that what she feels for tooru is just platonic </3 - her private is where she gets a little silly or tries to cope w her feelings - tooru used to be on it but after he accidentally leaked a photo she had posted on it, he lost his privilege (in his defense he thought she looked stunning and didn't see the point of sharing it with only like, 7 people but it was over for him) - currently allowed to see her private: seijoh 4 minus tooru and her group featured below <3

FEATURING...

kiyoko shimizu & sugawara koushi .°˖✧

shimizu

karasuno’s volleyball manager. shimizu first met y/n when they were both starting out as managers in their first years. they bonded during that time together, taking notes during a match together and then exchanging numbers to keep in contact. suga came a little later but ever since then, the three have been close friends. if y/n co-parents seijoh’s volleyball team with hajime, shimizu and suga co-parent y/n. shoyo noticed how much they cared for y/n and wanted to be apart of the family too <3

suga

setter, pinch server, and karasuno's vice captain. he’s not even entirely sure how exactly he and shimizu became co-parents for y/n. he definitely gets multiple evil stares burning into the back of his skull from karasuno’s third years + tanaka and noya but he wouldn’t give up his bond with either managers for anything. along with kiyoko, they give y/n advice on everything she’s going through and are always there to support her <3

FEATURING...

kuroo tetsuro & hinata shoyo .°˖✧

kuroo

captain of nekoma’s volleyball team which is currently manager-less </3 as a result, since they're close to seijoh, if they really need a manager, y/n helps out if she can. over time, she grew closer to kuroo who also hung around with tooru a lot. kuroo views her as a little sister which is why he works along iwa as a double spy ❤️ is also besties with bokuto who has somehow been looped into this trip (he’s not complaining)

shoyo

aspiring ace !! karasuno’s tiny giant <3 wing spiker, and 50% of the weirdo duo. like bokuto, was lowkey looped into whatever this solar system is but he’s also not complaining. he kinda let himself in because he was upset that he was left out whenever shimizu and suga started talking. then, in his first match with seijoh, he realized who they were always talking about. he introduced himself when he saw suga and shimizu talking with y/n who immediately adopted him - also means that he does not get added to the gc until after karasuno's first practice match w/ seijoh </3

not featured:

iwaizumi hajime </3

a price he must pay as a double spy along with kuroo. haji’s known tooru and y/n since forever so it’s to be expected that he hears both sides but he can’t be in two places at once. he was glad when kuroo entered the picture because he could be sent to take care of y/n while haji sat through tooru’s woes. the two then share information and scheme, just like kiyoko and suga. the four sometimes all share ideas and worst comes to worst, makki and mattsun also join. haji also sees y/n as a little sister and would give her anything (snacks from a vending machine or gas station) <3

full picture sugawara's using to make fun of shoyo bc everything hates me </3

m.list | next

[satoshi-mochida]

ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist launches January 22, 2025 - Gematsu

Dark 2D Metroidvania RPG ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist will leave Early Access and launch for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, PlayStation 4, Switch, and PC via Steam on January 22, 2025, publisher Binary Haze Interactive and developers Live Wire and Adglobe announced. Pre-orders for physical editions will begin soon in Japan, with information on physical editions for other regions to be announced at a later date.

ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist first launched for PC via Steam on March 25.

Here is an overview of the game, via Binary Haze Interactive:

About

Venture through a dark 2D Metroidvania RPG that takes place in a dying world where sorrowful artificial life forms called homunculi run rampant. As hybrid beings turn on humanity, cleanse corruption from their weary souls and uncover the source of their oppression in a journey of salvation for both man and machine. Taking place decades after “The Rain of Death” in ENDER LILIES: Quietus of the Knights, which sold over 1.5 million copies worldwide, ENDER MAGNOLIA: Bloom in the Mist promises 35 hours of content coming to 1.0 with all-new bosses to purify, fresh abilities to combine for custom playstyles, and mysterious biomes to explore. Each boss defeated joins Lilac‘s cause, adding ten abilities (each with three alt-fires), totaling 30 new abilities to Lilac’s repertoire. Equip up to four abilities at once to create a custom fighting style with a mixture of short-range attacks, long-range projectiles, lock-on auto-attacks, and much more. Explore a vast open world full of relics offering insight into ENDER MAGNOLIA‘s rich lore and access previously unreachable areas as Lilac’s skills increase over time. Gather gold and machine parts, then exchange them for items and upgrades at the Blacksmith’s storefront. Locate Lilac’s lost memories and piece together the tragic story of the fall of the Land of Fumes. International indie band Mili returns to the series to compose the melancholy yet whimsical soundtrack for ENDER MAGNOLIA‘s setting.

Story

Set in the Land of Fumes, this prosperous magical superpower is home to vast quantities of magical resources lurking underneath the surface. In hopes of advancing their kingdom’s development, artificial life forms known as Homunculi came into being. Regrettably, toxic Fumes from the underground drove the Homunculi to madness, turning them into feral monsters. Lilac, an “Attuner” possessing the power to save the Homunculi, finds herself in a laboratory deep underground. Become acquainted with the Homunculi who have been closely involved in the kingdom’s downfall. Set out in search of both Lilac’s lost memories and precious friends in the Land of Fumes on a journey of destruction and rebirth in a hand-drawn, post-apocalyptic world.

Scenario

ENDER MAGNOLIA is a dark fantasy 2D side-scrolling action RPG where you venture through the desolate Land of Fumes trying to save both humans and Homunculi. At the forefront of magical and mechanical development, the kingdom comprises a hierarchical societal structure. Here, you’ll come across abandoned cities, and discover laboratories oozing with heinous mysteries, a grand Sorcerer’s Academy, colossal factories, and much more. The hauntingly beautiful yet gruesome world of ENDER MAGNOLIA will unfold before you. Journey with Homunculi and help those who have lost their minds to the Fumes. Fight fearsome, powerful enemies, purify their souls, and rally your companions. Who will you save at the end of your quest—humans or Homunculi?

Watch a new trailer below. View a new set of screenshots at the gallery.

Version 1.0 Release Date Trailer

[piratesexmachine420]

Here's a third Interesting Calculator Fact:

These ↑ are my pocket adding machines, and they use tens' complement arithmetic.

Many of us used to dealing with binary numbers are familiar with twos' complement -- put simply: the idea that if 0b11111111 + 0b00000001 = 0b00000000, then 0b11111111 can be considered "-1" for most purposes, 0b11111110 can be considered "-2", etc. Tens' complement is a little more alien but follows the same sort of logic.

I'll use the Kesling adder to demonstrate, because it's a little easier to understand and both devices use essentially the same operating principles.

Anyone who's used a rotary telephone before will immediately see how this works. To add a number: put a stylus ("a pencil will do") into the hole for the digit and place you want, and rotate it clockwise until you hit the stop.

To subtract, do the same thing, but this time using the smaller numbers and rotating counterclockwise.

In both cases, carry-in and carry-out is handled automatically by the mechanism.

So how do negative numbers work?

They wrap around! 0004 - 7 = 9997. Just like how an 8-bit binary ALU will wrap around to 255.

Also like a binary ALU, this will underflow back to positive numbers. 9997 + 20 = -3 + 20 = 17.

For more information you might want to check out: the Method of complements wikipedia article, the KES-ADD's manual, the KES-ADD's patent or this page about slide adders (that's what the 'Arithma Addiator' is -- a more pleasant-to-use design but also slightly less automated).

[thevalleyoftriumph]

actually not to keep talking abt a topic hours later but i want to build off of one of my tags on that ultrakill post i rb'd last night [and im ONLY going to expand on one of my points, i will not be bringing up any other arguments in this post]

people love love love to say stuff like "pronouns =/= gender" [correct] and that you dont NEED to have specific pronouns such as he/him or she/her to be gay or lesbian [also correct], and while these two are great points that i agree with, it seems that these peoples support for this only goes as far as they/them users.

the absolute SECOND that a characters gender expression is canonically different from a "classic nonbinary" expression, its suddenly "up in the air" and "for your interpritation." and why is that?

specifically in the case of v1 and v2 from ultrakill; two canonically genderless/genderqueer/agender/nonbinray/what have you characters. v1 is VERY commonly seen as masc, and v2 is very commonly seen as fem.

v1 and v2 are also commonly headcannoned as gay and lesbian, respectively. theyre commonly shipped with characters seen as masc and fem. do you see what connections im beginning to see?

like it or not, by disregarding the canonical gender expression [or lacktherof] for these two, in order to fit them both into simple, binary, gendered boxes to also fit your specific sexuality headcanon - is in fact, an act of erasure! it comes off as INCREDIBLY iffy to fit nonbinary characters into a "masc nonbinary" and "fem nonbinary" binary.

and the fact is, i see people less often use other pronouns than it/its for these two for headcanon purposes or for fun or for projection, and more for SHIPPING purposes. there is a MASSIVE difference between adding onto a characters canonical pronouns for your own enjoyment and preference, and COMPLETELY changing them because you want a certain ship to be more gay, or whatever. an it/its user can be gay! it can also be a lesbian! it using it/its doesnt make it any less gay or any less of a lesbian, and it definitely doesnt make it any less nonbinary/genderqueer!

idk its just like. the machines in ultrakill [and most importantly v1 as the player character] being exclusively referred to as it/its is a major part of them and who they are. it is how they all express their gender CANONICALLY in the game. there are no other refferals no other pronouns, nothing. by disregarding this fact SO quickly, along with often only being for shipping reasons, you are showing that you Do Not Care for what the canon text is trying to tell you about the machines. im sorry but thats how it reads to me.

genuinely people love nonbinary characters until theyre the "wrong kind" of nonbinary, and all of a sudden jump through as many hoops as they physically can to disregard anything to do with that.

end of posts notes because if this post gets rb'd in any way or even breaches containment i know people will say stuff at me;

1] no, hakitas tweet about using "whatever you want" for the machines doesnt count IN THIS POST. nor does the discord. not everyone who plays the game is going to SEE either of those. while you could consider it canon [and i do! trust me! hakitas word is absolutely canon!] that doesnt mean it is ABSOLUTE, or the canon that is being INTENDED to be shown. most people are only going to see the in-game text, which is what is most important to me considering this post.

2] ive seen people making the argument that making nonbinary characters inhuman is like. bad rep or something idk im not doing the argument justice bc i dont remember it. but to that i say yes, i agree! we DO need more human nonbinary rep! boiling down every nonbinary person to be inhuman is Bad and you shouldnt instantly assume everyone whos nonbinary is Not Human! because that is really awful! do not misinterprite my stance here, i know what kind of website this is regarding reading comprehension! however comma that is not the point here. the machines using it/its isnt just from them being "inhuman nonbinary characters," it is a PART of the intended gender expression youre meant to gain from them. besides personally i adore inhuman nonbinary characters bc they kick ass and also im not human either. heart emoji.

3] no i am not saying you CANT listen to hakita and use different pronouns for the machines. at the end of the day hakitas word, regardless of if its in the game or not, is canon. im not your boss i cant tell you what to do. im not a fan of using he/him or she/her for Either v1 or v2 myself, but if it makes you happy, i literally cannot stop you. i hold no power over your decisions. i am once again saying, i am NOT tell you that you CANT do it.

just please. if your kneejerk reaction to being told "do what feels comfortable" about a characters pronouns, is to immediately assign the characters with it/its pronouns arbitrary masc/fem ones instead.. if that is your immediate kneejerk reaction, then PLEASE stop for a moment and consider why you feel that way specifically.

[moonknightassappreciator]

Christ alive I’m tired of leftists and anarchists (USA post warning) always bleating about how participating in a system (voting) (the US govt/genocide machine) gives power to it so we should all lay down and let the worst possible outcome happen (vote third party in a 2 party system/not vote at all) bc somehow that’s the “morally pure option” when (NEWSFLASH MOTHERFUCKERS) existing in (American) society and paying your taxes/partaking in goods/services is what is giving the most power to that system. Voting is adding a pebble to a binary weighted switch. Does it suck that the switch is not a sliding scale? Yes 100%. But that switch is what we have and it’s going to go to one side or the other. I put my little pebble on the opposite side of the guy who’s been explicitly egging the genocide on while also promising to make many aspects of my life and personhood criminalized or insanely regulated. Where is your pebble?

[sammylbir]

"59.....60..."

Those numbers were counted by Haruo Shiori, resident Ultimate Influencer and hunky non-binary icorn. Currently they were bench pressing 200 kilogram and grunted with a mix of pain and arousal, as they felt their chest rise and fall.

Rise and fall.

God, their chest was so big....

"61.....62.....63....64....65....67....68...69!"

With a grunt, they put the weight onto the stand and then got up, stretching themselves and admiring their ripped physique in the mirror.

"Hell yeah, I am so fucking hot.", they noted and took out their phone, shooting a few selfies and adding a few hashtags. As they were doing that, someone tapped their shoulder.

"You need to drink.", a calm yet somewhat metallic voice reminded them. Haruo rolled their eyes.

"Not now, Keebaby. Gotta make more pics and show off my guns.", they replied and flexed again, pulling their shirt up and show off their rock-hard abs. Keebo rolled his eyes and then pressed the open bottle into the influencer's mouth. Haruo was surprised for a moment, before sucking the lid fairly quickly and slowly in order to not only drink the water and suck it all up, but to also turn Keebo on.

Even though Keebo couldn't really feel sexual pleasure. At all.

The robot stared at them patiently and smiled, when they finished drinking.

"There. Now you are fully hydrated."

"Heh...I know darling...", Haruo noted and smiled, pecking their cheek. "So cute that ya are watching over me. My tin-man."

"Yes.....You'd do the same to me...And...I do enjoy watching you train..."

Upon hearing this, Haruo smirked and flexed their arm again, motioning Keebo to touch it. The robot did as they wanted and leaned their head agaist it.

"So....warm..."

"Indeed darling. So pumping and beefing, heh. I bet if ya were a human, ya'd cream your pants."

"Possibly...", Keebo mused, before shaking his head. "But...i'm not. Unfortunately..."

"Unfortunately?", Haruo asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow. 

"Yes...I mean, you are flesh and get to experience all the pleasures of being organic...Meanwhile though, I am made of machine and tons of code and.....cannot do the things like you.", Keebo explained, rubbing their still flexed arm. "I cannot make love, I cannot feel and I can't even get stronger...I am only as strong as a senior citizen...Unlike you..."

"Geez...Keebaby...", Haruo mused and hugged them with their other arm. "Who says ya can't do any of those things?"

"Wh..what do you mean?"

"I mean, ya are a fucking robot. Ya can upgrade yourself and ask that hot bimbo blonde of a friend to upgrade ya. She does maintenance on you, eh?"

"Miu...does...yes.."

"See? Ya future ain't set in stone. So what if ya ain't organic? I don't give a fuck, cuz ya are you and I love ya for the way you are darling."

"Oh...Thanks...", Keebo noted and hugged their chest, planting a small kiss. Haruo giggled and kissed his forehead.

"Heh....Say darling, when she does upgrade ya.....Would ya like to be top or bottom?", they suddenly asked, causing Keebo to blush furiously.

"Ha..Haruo!"

[untitledisekaiproject]

OC: Sekai Ishida

Made more Sekais in Picrew. Also added links to said picrews in the image decription. :)

This is a sequel to my original post about Sekai here. Also gives me an excuse to drop more character lore.

Yes; "Ishida Sekai/Sekai Ishida" is a pun on "Isekai". I thought it was clever and grew attached.

Young adult. Feels like he missed out on a "typical" child/teenage-hood.

Identifies as genderfluid/non-binary. He/Whatever.

Was born with Spinal Bifida - Myelomeningocele type. Required a crap-ton of surgeries as an infant just to be able to move. Hydrocephalus as an newborn led to mild Cerebral Palsy (had to get a shunt put in to drain out excess CSF). As an adult he experiences; muscle weakness, partial paralysis of his facial muscles and legs, bowel and urinary issues (TMI), poor eyesight (legally blind), latex allergy, insomnia, anxiety, and neuro-divergency.

Walks mainly with crutches and leg braces. Uses wheelchair for long journeys.

Birth parent legally abandoned him - Sekai suspects it was financially motivated. Was put into Catholic orphanage where he spent most of his life. Was able to graduate from high school, albeit with great difficulty and numerous supports. At the start of his story, he's attending career training.

Amateur metalhead. Orginally got into it as a rebellion against his religious caretakers, ended up finding acceptance in punk metal community. Is wearing a Rob Zombie t-shirt under his hoodie.

Main social interactions pre-story are between fellow career trainees, members of his church (still attends to say hi), and people he befriended online.

Has experienced different levels of ableism throughout his life, mainly from strangers, but most harshly from a caretaker at the orphanage when he was a young child. This left Sekai with an extreme fear and paranoia of being targeted for his disability.

Has a reactionary temper, and has gotten himself into trouble for his aggressive behaviour. Kind of person to loudly announce if someone is blocking the sidewalk or taking up space on the train. He will not be ignored.

Favourite food is curry rice and pumpkin croquettes. Fave drink is anything peach flavoured. Most of his meals are from late-night convenience stores, vending machines, and cafeterias.

Isn't sure what he wants to be in life. Draws a lot. Story lore under Read More!

Story kicks off when Sekai falls (pushed?) off a train platform into the path of a bullet train. As he fell, the chaotic event opened a portal to Untrid - a high-fantasy realm that's been experiencing increased instances of portal malfunctions.

Sekai sees a lot of weird stuff as he falls through the portal. Land shifting and rising, seas parting and drying, the moon cycle of an alien sky, people in other times and places also falling, etc... probably not important.

As his fall through reality comes to a screeching halt; Sekai is met by a soft, welcoming face. This is the God of Gifts of this realm, and its duty is to grant boons and "starting bonuses" to the new souls of the world. Normally this means *newborns*, but the cheerful axolotl-shaped God figures *newcomers to the realm* fit the bill too.

The God of Gifts, joyfully: "Grown souls tend to ask me for complicated things. Babies rarely ask for anything more than warmth or food or the inherent ability to wield fire. If you have any requests, I will do my best to meet it." :) Sekai, existentially terrified/angry: "Give me back my crutches, you jerk!" The God of Gifts: "OK!" :D (*Sekai's crutches boomerang back to him from the void, he quickly reorients himself*) The God of Gifts: "Good luck out there!" :D Sekai, more lucid: "Wait, what?" (*Sekai suddenly slams onto a train track glitched into the landscape of a dense grass landscape. In the distance he sees the pinpricks of civilisation.*) Sekai, realsing: "Wait - did that fucker mean he could have given me anything!?"

Sekai is PISSED.

At first he tries to reason with himself that he's experienced a "glitch in the matrix", and that he's just in a rural area along his train route. He starts following the tracks towards the village in the distance.

Bad Idea! Bad idea! Locals take one look at him and argue in a language he can't recognise. A few get aggressive and try manhandling him. Sekai realises that the village is distinctly not rural Japan, and not exactly in the current millennium.

Running into the forest to avoid a potential hate crime; Sekai is soon tired, thirsty, freaking out, body hurting, and his whole concept of reality is breaking down. That's when he meets Wormwood - a demon who only seems to be visible in reflections and shadows.

Wormwood: "You seem lost, flatfoot. Mind if I-" Sekai, fed up: "I don't even f*cking care anymore! If you want to possess my body or something, just hop in! I really need someone to take the wheel right now!" Wormwood, surprised: "Damn, alright. I didn't even need to ask!" (*The demon "hops" into Sekai's body.... and very little seems to happen*) Wormwood, as an inner voice: "This is odd. Your limbs are stiff and I cannot seem to feel certain parts of your body. Are you not a man crippled by misfortune or illness?" Sekai, still able to move body: "Nah. I was born like this." Wormwood: "Hmm, this isn't ideal. I will exit your body and find a more mobile host." Sekai, offended: "Hey, f*ck you, man!" >:( Wormwood: "It is not a criticism of your form, but of your ability to aid me in my goals. I bid that you'll find another entity to meet your needs. Adieu!" (*a moment passes and no change seems to occur*) Wormwood, confused: "Why can't I leave?" Sekai: "Depends, where you at in there?" Wormwood: "I possess others through their brains and nervous system." Sekai: (*cackling!*) Wormwood, getting nervous: "Please explain!" Sekai: "Dude! Part of my brain is messed up from birth stuff. I think you're in the not-working department!" XD Wormwood: "What!? I have never heard of such a thing! If you'll bring me to an exorcist post-haste, we'll shall rectify this!" Sekai: "Hmm... maybe I won't." Wormwood: "What." Sekai, devious: "I might be new to this world, but I have an inkling that keeping a demon trapped in here might give me an advantage!" >:3 Wormwood: "You son of a cow." Sekai: "Hey! You're the one who agreed to help me out! You should have asked for more details before you shook on it!" Wormwood, flustered: "You sir, are worse than a demon!"

So yeah, now our isekai'd homie got a demon stuck in his brain, crutches that he never seems to lose (thanks, GOG!), and he's stuck in a fantasy realm that seems to have a history of people falling out of the sky.

Side effects of being possessed by a strange woodland demon include; spontaneous antler growth, weak ghostly limbs and/or tentacles made from shadows emerging from body, a constant inner voice (of said demon), being able to understand the local language (as the demon hears it), and taking occasional holy damage when in the proximity of Paladins. But hey! Free demon Alexa!

Sekai eventually runs into another "Off-Worlder" aka "Flatfoot" (as people from other dimensions appear to have flatter feet), and thats when the story really begins...

[fawnnfiction]

Ao3 needs a dedicated page for browsing crossover fanfic

Crossover fanfiction is underrated. I love them to death. When done well, they're a blast to read. It got me into the medium in the first place, a Doctor Who x Digimon fic on fanfiction.net titled "Izzy and the Doctor." Reading that blew my mind when I was a 14-year-old fawnling!

FF.net is many things these days: outdated, clunky, ad-riddled, way past its glory years. However, in my humble opinion, it's still the best site for browsing crossover fics.

Immediately, the homepage presents the option of browsing standard single-fandom fanfiction or crossovers. It's a binary choice in every sense of the word: it can't get simpler than that.

After selecting one of the many listed categories, the website takes you to a comprehensive list of fandoms. Pick your poison! Which fandom are you going to mash against another?

Once you select your first fandom, the floodgates open.

All fandoms your initial pick has crossed over with are visible for you to see! It might be information overload at first, but you have many options to tailor your search, and by default, it lists crossed-over fandoms by the number of published stories in descending order.

And again, all information is presented to you at once.

Ao3 is not like that, unfortunately. Its comprehensive tag system is the website's greatest strength and blessing. However, it makes casually browsing crossover fanfics difficult.

The "Fandoms" dropdown menu within Ao3's sorting function is nowhere near a true replacement for FF.net's dedicated crossover page. It only lists 9 fandoms at a time, not counting the initial one you chose to browse (which, in my case, is My Hero Academia).

You could keep excluding fandom tags you're not interested in, but it's not an intuitive solution for me. It's like playing a slot machine, or something along those lines.

The "show only crossovers" option is excellent, but, not to repeat myself, it is not a replacement for FF.net's crossover features.

You can't casually browse a list of fandoms, mash them together like an unholy science experiment, and see what happens. You have to deliberately search for specific fandoms, which… yes, does not sound bad at all. But it takes away from that feeling of discovery, aimlessly browsing these fandoms, not knowing where your personal rabbit hole will end until you land on a specific gem.

And it's a shame because Ao3 has a massive advantage over FF.net with crossover content: multi-fandom crossovers, stories that go full-on Ready Player One and cram as MUCH as they possibly can!

That is magical! And if Ao3 had a system similar to FF.net's, it would make those stories all the more visible and discoverable. You can spontaneously pick and choose which fandoms tickle your fancy and not worry about sifting through a mountain of unwanted tags to sate your morbid curiosity.

But hey! That's just the mad ramblings of a fandom-obsessed deer.

If you've made it this far, please go read and support crossover authors! My recent favorite fic is "A Dragon Among Thieves" by Ao3 user Kyon813! It's a fantastic read that takes Kiryu Kazuma of the Yakuza series and plops him right into the middle of Persona 5. If you're a fan of both SEGA-funded series, I really recommend giving it a go!

Leave a comment, leave a kudos!

Ciao!

[youphoriaot7]

I kept a running commentary of what was happening, so here is a very messy breakdown of QSMP's 11/11/23 stream!

cucurucho showed up in his house(?). it's storming outside, full lightning and thunder. this biome is ODD, it's all blue with the glowy trees.

he heads outside, farms some crops and checks the mailbox (it's empty) before going back inside.

he put the crops into his cupboards and sat at his tv before proceeding to watch slime's "juanaflippa" song

the duck cut his happy fun times short, playing the first cutscene from purgatory day one. cucurucho kept "no"ing it, and eventually turned it off.

his doorbell rang, and he opened it to see a worker with glasses standing outside (we've seen him before with polispol!)

the worker gave him a note: "census bureau, sorry for interrupting you at your residency. there is a problem at the spawn. it seems there is a toxic matter and we don't know how it originated." as well as three pictures of the black concrete-covered spawn

cucurucho went to a small office in his house and pressed a red button named "panic button." the following message played: "this is an emergency meeting. all workers are required to assist until the situation is resolved. the infection is spreading. there is no identifiable source of it yet." he then said "i don't know why."

he started a report: "226+8 a.r. REPORT: Bad news [has] arrived. A meeting needs to be arranged. It has been raining for days."

another cutscene: "urgent! quesadilla island cleanup attempts have failed. the substance is spreading at an alarming rate and has reached federation offices. and emergency meeting must be held."

dialog cutscene: CUCURUCHO: "WA02, report for an urgent meeting at the office. CUCURUCHO: "..." CUCURUCHO: "WB012, report for an urgent meeting at the office. Sanitary masks are mandatory." WB012: "Understood, sir!"

there's black concrete all over the entire main federation offices. it's everywhere. there are workers inside trying to clean it up. cucurucho checks all the offices before taking some of the workers through a warp plate to the auditorium where the A0 event was (where there is also concrete, but not as much).

"this is an emergency meeting. all workers are required to assist until the situation is resolved. the infection is spreading. there is no identifiable source of it yet." (repeated message from earlier)

one worker's report: “As you know the residents have been sent off to egg island. We have reason to believe a third party has intervened and we cannot contact anyone anymore. It’s not safe for the residents. We need to get them back.”

another report: “Our friend and co-worker WA02 is missing [for] weeks now. We still don’t know what happened to them.”

another report: “We still haven’t figured out who murdered all of our colleagues and our lead detective is not here.” (this worker—agent 18—was very upset.)

another report: “the northeast office and the team reported a paper about a stray signal sent by one of their captive subjects, a binary entity, we are in need of signal blocking equipment as soon as possible.” (the second page involved this worker's evil plot to get everyone to drink apple juice.)

another report: "THE COFFEE MACHINE BROKE AND I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE PLEASE BRING THE COFFEE MACHINE BACK I AM COPING WITH TEA PLEASE T E A"

cutscene: “The quantity of issues is unacceptable. All workers will be tasked with handling the infection unless told otherwise. Follow me.”

the workers and cucurucho returned to the train station, which did look a little bit better than yesterday. he sent one of the workers off in a boat from near foolish's dragon, saying "follow protocol. return the residents to quesadilla island." (o7 worker)

he ordered one of the workers to work on the train station before heading to the president's office and leaving a message for forever: "MR PRESIDENT, PLEASE MESSAGE ME ONCE YOU['VE] RETURNED. IT IS URGENT. :)"

he then added to his report: "It is everywhere. There are many more issues that have been reported. We need to check on: the code entity we kidnapped, what happened to WA02, someone has been sent to egg island, apparently the coffee machine broke as well…"

the adoption center has been practically destroyed—blocks are missing like explosive damage and there's concrete everywhere. there's concrete all over the wall. he ordered one of the workers to work on the adoption center.

cucurucho went back to the main offices and wrote a new book: "PLEASE CHECK ON THE STATU[E]S OF THE SUBSTANCE AND REPORT BACK TO ME ASAP TOMORROW!" he then ordered a worker to clean up the offices. (he may have given this book to this worker; i missed that part.)

he then added to his report: "All workers have been assigned to their area. we can only hope that the rain will stop and the work will be done before the residents return"

he then returned to his house and went down a secret elevator into a room lined with rows of barrels. he named his report "226+8 a.r." and put it in it's proper place by date before returning to his office and pressing the panic button again: “The shadow virus has spread to a dangerous level. Under our advisors recommendation, the federation will retrieve the stranded islanders, thus suspending protocol AB.”

"I hope you enjoy the island." the stream ended with no fanfare.

[lurkingteapot]

2023 post round-up/summary

Lovely @twig-tea tagged me here, so I'll try my hand.

I'd abandoned tumblr for about 4? 5? years 2016ish through 2020, had a short stint with it again in 2020, took peeks and vehemently disagreed with much of what I saw in 2021-2022, and grudgingly settled back in in 2023. I wasn't going to interact. I wasn't.

Jan-April: *crickets* I was being strong!

Then, I saw people moaning about how they'd learn Thai if only it was on Duolingo, and you know how spite can be funnelled into positivity? I did that! Result:

May

Popular: Free Thai Language Learning Resources, most popular by a landslide. This pleases me greatly, as I put a lot of work into it and always hope more people start picking up this language.

Favourite: maybe my thoughts on Ming, piggybacking off @kenmakaashi's post?

June

Popular: my musings on translation and how it relates to fannish reception of media, which was my most popular post of the year and 'broke containment', if only in a very small way. Some of the additions in the tags and reblogs are fantastic, do go have a look if you like!

Favourite: toss-up between my attempt at showing a parallel between a silly moment in Our Skyy 2 x BBS and a scrapped shot from BBS proper and this rant about Romanisations of Thai and why G**gle translate is the devil (that bit is in the conversation downthread), which let me meet @plantsarepeopletoo.

July

Popular: Summary of James Welker's 2006 essay "Beautiful, Borrowed, and Bent: “Boys’ Love” as Girls’ Love in Shōjo Manga"

Favourite: the offerings are slim here … let's go with the one in which I once more was salty about the way folks talk about BL

August

Popular: Only Friends' Ray isn't just The Drunkard, but also The One Who's basically Given Up On Himself, as per his title card (this one was so popular it got stolen and reposted – without credit or permission – to twitter 🙃)

Favourite: Thinking about Drama, the Romance genre, and tropes, and how those relate to our perception of BL (good additions from various folks in the notes; conversation with @visualtaehyun in reblogs and @twig-tea in the replies).

September

Popular: IFYLITA Ep 6 poem context notes

Favourite: toss-up between complaining about badly machine translated content in Love in Translation and musing on the name of Khun Yai's favourite bar

October

Popular: my long-winded answer to @zimmbzon's ask "Hi, how would a non-binary person (me) get around the binary gender rules and vocab in Thai?"

Favourite: uhhh … maybe my musings on honorific translations in kimi ni wa todokanai? (yes, technically a reblog from sideblog, shh)

November

Popular: most popular was this throwaway therapy vent containing food for thought and while I guess this meme is mostly fannish I'm linking it anyway because it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to (or something)

Favourite: when I called out the resemblance between the Last Twilight trailer and Intouchables (2011). Literally no one cared, but then @my-rose-tinted-glasses independently came in strong with receipts as soon as the actual first episode aired and made me feel validated af.

December

Popular: Why I'm pretty sure Last Twilight's "fried rice/false rice" joke was funnier in Thai

Favourite: the saga of the songs in Ep 4 of Last Twilight

I didn't do any round-up posts, but I'll include the other category @twig-tea added:

Five other posts that I want to highlight because I can:

BL Favourites Tag Game (July 2023)

Link to fujoshi.info with information on WHY you should check out that site if you're interested in having an informed opinion on BL and the genre's history.

contemporary issues in Thailand as mentioned in Only Friends ep 1

Thoughts on code-switching in Step by Step

Reply to @mynameisnotthepoint's comment-via-ask on my anti viki rant

I'm not going to tag anyone because I'm completely lost – I was mostly off tumblr for nearly three weeks; if you made a post like this you'd like me to see, please link me/tag me! <3

[coloredscribbli]

Hey, hey, last fanfic episode for you! Might give you more if ever they’re desired/I come up with something good. In fact, I have a non-Jackbox character I think you might appreciate, but that can wait.

Notes:

Remember this happened at Christmas last year, so it’ll have very, like “Let’s see what the future holds!” energy. Little chintzy, but I can’t totally change that.

Because of that, there are lots of other Jackbox references (the fanfic is supposed to have the Deca-Pack going around and meeting some of the other hosts, but I haven’t actually written a lot of that so far). You should recognize Cookie, Schmitty, and [REDACTED] when I note them (Cookie is actually a cosmic clock man in my fanon, if you wanna learn more about that, LMK). “Pawd” was my name for the Split the Room cat before I learned he was called Mayonnaise (I like both names now), “Nanners” is the canon name for the chimp from Nonsensory, and “Mevan” is my name for M. Bubz (the M stands for “Mevan” bc IDK it sounds non binary n shit).

Besides that, there’s not really much! Just remember the cast and you should get it (this one does get a little bit grosser than the previous one, but not by very much and I think it’s manageable)!

COTDP: "Carol of the Brains (Minimal Strings Attached) - Part 2"

*We open on Bel, still floating as a brain over her limp body while the rest of the Decas...well...*

Bel: You done?

Ester, Amp and Raffle: *coiled up in a ball in the corner in fear*

Mentos: *a little tired of Ester, Amp, and Raffle still panicking over Bel's brain-body separation* Guys. I literally told you that this is what happens.

Ester: *the outer ring of the panic-ball* And we thought you were joking!

Raffle: *the middle ring of the panic-ball* Or, like, metaphor.

Mentos: *fortunately too jazzed about the whole "it's my birthday and my friends will feel what it's like to be me" thing to be too exasperated* I have posted mid-show photos on Instagram. Did you think I Photoshopped them all?

Amp: *the inner ring of the panic-ball* ~0! ("No!") *points to Coper* (((€ /<!~/)@ /-![_ _/•€/) #€ /)!/) +#@+. ("We kinda figured HE did that.")

Coper: *snaps his fingers on either side of his head, having not understood a lick of what that golf-tee-looking thing just said* Once more?

Mentos: *nods to her dad* Just take it from me.

Coper: *grins* That I shall. *gently lays a hand on Mentos' squishiness, causing the both of them to glow slightly pink before he takes his hand off and turns back to Amp* That just added to my intuition, little whatever-thing. Repeat yourself?

Amp: *slower this time* (((€ /-![_ _/•€/) +#@+ !/- @~¥0~€ (((@$ %#0+0$#0%%!~[_ @!_!_ +#@+ $+_/-/-, !+'/) /3€ ¥0_. ("We figured that if anyone was Photoshopping all that stuff, it'd be you.")

Coper: *chuckles* A novel idea. But I never lie unless the truth is more dangerous.

Amp: *cocks its head* #_#? ("Huh?")

Coper: *smiles and kneels to get on Amp's level, waving his hands and forcing a grumbling Ester and Raffle off of their friend (Coper's post-hypnotic suggestions are still making them like marionettes for his delights)* How old are you, or at least a good human equivalent?

Amp: *would shrug if it had shoulders* +(((€!_\/€? ;;;@¥/3€? $0;;;€+#!~[_ !_!/<€ +#@+? ("Twelve? Maybe? Something like that?")

Coper: *eyes widen a little* Ah. Quite youthful. Who do you consider close to you?

Amp: *doesn't even have to think about it* ;;;¥ /-@;;;!!_¥! ;;;¥ /3/•0+#€/•$ @~/) $!$+€/•$ @~/) $!/3!_!~[_$...! !_0\/€ @!_!_ 0/- +#€;;;! @~/) ! !_0\/€ ;;;0;;;;;;@ ;;;@(#!~€, +00, $#€'$ ?_$+ ~0+ @$ @!_!\/€ @$ _$. @~/) /-0/• /-_~, (((€ @!_!_...(((€!_!_...!+'$ /•€@!_!_¥ ~0+ +#@+ !;;;%/•€$$!\/€... ("My family! My brothers and sisters and siblings...I love all of them! And I love Momma Machine, too, she's just not as alive as us. And for fun, we all...well...it's really not that impressive...")

Coper: You play little text games. I've been told they're rather adorable, as well.

Amp: *seems embarrassed* @(((, ¥0_ (0_!_/) #@\/€ @$ ;;;_(# /-_~ 0~ @ /3@$!( [_00[_!_€ /)0(... ("Aw, you could have as much fun on a basic Google Doc...")

Coper: *tilts Amp's little head in a very specific way and echoes his voice* ~Do you even know what a Google Doc is, little one?~

Amp: *eyes widen* _########... ("Uhhhhhhhh...")

*schloop noise that sounds like it came from a dying Atari*

Amp: *now in a polygonal brain form; looks down at its tiny rolling body* @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ (I'm not typing out all those As, you can tell Amp is screaming in panic. Also, please note that I imagine every detail of Amp's form sort of glitchily separating apart as it screams.)

Coper: *snaps his fingers a couple times to bring Amp back to reality* You're alright, you're alright...go snuggle with Dr. Sewatt.

Bel: *raises her spinal cord helpfully* That's me.

Amp: *floats into Bel's metaphorical arms and realizes something as it puts itself back together* ;;;¥ ~@;;;€'$ @;;;% !_¥$#_, $!~(€ ¥@ ~€\/€/• @$/<€/). @;;;%'$ $#0/•+ /-0/•... ("My name's Amp Lyshu, since ya never asked. Amp's short for...")

Coper: Ampersand. Quite aware. *walks back to Mentos and gives her a pat as thanks for that previously-given info, then trots up to Ester, who's still just laying there* And you?

Ester: *lifts his head up calmly and proudly, since he's realized this is going to be happening whether he'd prefer it or not* Ester Anchard. The dragon that makes the T-shirts. I learned it from my mom, who had the island before me.

Coper: *nod of approval* You're quick. *looks at the Draco Ring on Ester's horn* And that is...?

Ester: *covers the Ring with one paw as it starts glowing and churning* Just an annoying little ancient artifact. Don't look at it too close, you might get a big head. *looks Coper up and down and pulls his paw away* Actually, it might not do anything to you...

Coper: *scoffs* I was going to go slowly, but just for that. *puts two fingers under Ester's fluffy chin and pulls them back to himself quickly, ripping the dragon's brain out sharply*

Ester: *blinks his horned brain as his head hits the floor hard enough to send the Ring flying off his horn* ...OW!

Coper: *smirks and bends over to grab the Ring* Bit of a delayed reaction there.

Ester: *huffs gently* My body is very long, so the pain takes a second. And do NOT put that on. *floats over to the others*

Coper: *looks it over* Oh, its promises are nothing to a man who's content. I'm quite alright. *fits it back on Ester's body's horn, then doesn't miss a beat on his way to Raffle*

Amp: *blinks confusedly* #€¥, #€ /)!/)~'+ +0_(# ;;;€ @+ @!_!_! ("Hey, he didn't touch me at all!")

Mentos: *floats out of her jar and admirably looks over her newly-cosmetically-identical friends, pushing them gingerly to the washing machine in the corner as she utilizes their already-hypnotized thoughts against them* He didn't need to. You're easily distracted from resisting.

Bel: Hey, that's a little rude...but, mostly true. *pats a clueless Amp with her spinal cord* Wait, the washing machine's not metaphorical either?

Mentos: *sneers and psychically opens the door, waiting impatiently for the last victim to be primed*

Raffle: *growls their name, a terse “Raffle Tesand” before continuing* See these? *bares their fangs* Sharp. Deadly.

Coper: To a bird. *squints* How do you see with no eyes?

Raffle: *stops short and starts pondering that question, long enough to feel a tap that causes their petals to fall open (their brain being at the center)* Oh. Could at least...

Coper: *waits for Raffle's brain to float out before snapping his fingers, forcing the petals back together* That?

Raffle: Good. *opens and closes their jaw, realizing they're the only brain to have a mouth (and still no eyes)* Hm. Good line of character design.

Mentos: *pulls Raffle over psychically and hisses* Don't SHATTER the 4th wall, there are CHILDREN watching.

Raffle: *raises a ridge of gray matter like an eyebrow* 41 years old is child?

Mentos: *nudges the group into the washing machine and chuckles to herself* Now, in a second, you're all going to ~spin~. And when you dooo...

Coper: *slinks over to start programming the washer* You'll ~fall~ right into my hands. Don't fight it, alright? It's a lot easier if you're ~submissive.~

Bel: Little weird, but hey. That’s a nitpick—*gets the door shut in her face; the last thing she, Ester, Raffle, and Amp see being the Dypolands snuggling together before everything goes just a little tipsy*

Ester: *slams against the walls as his horns get stuck in the holes in the barrel*

Raffle: *just sort of flails and proceeds to get mouth-goop all over the bottom of the barrel*

Amp: *keeps getting hit against the top of the barrel because of how lightweight its polygons are*

Bel: *somehow manages to stay in the center, feeling the psychic part of the experience most fervently* Ohhh…

Mentos’ voice, ringing through the variously-animated chaos: Thank you. For caring. NOW WHO’S READY FOR A TRAILER??

Raffle: Trailer…*thump* For…*thump* What…

Mentos’ voice: NO MORE TALKING!

*Insert a psychic blast that makes the washing machine feel more like a disorienting vortex, image after image flashing through the minds of our cast as we see, among other hinted adventure locales:

A pair of buildings (a dingy home and dingier hotel) spattered with blood and voodoo-doll fluff…([REDACTED]’s places)

…a set of swirling backgrounds populated by geometric shapes and a very tired human man…(that tired man is Schmitty and the shapes are his Quips)

…and a group of weird voids filled with truth and lies in equal measure (Cookie. Just Cookie.).*

The Decas in the washing machine: *eyes dilate into blue and pink and blue and pink and blue and, man, you get the point at this rate, before there’s a hissing and the door opens wide, causing a brain soup to spill out onto the floorboards and recoagulate itself* Blehrugheughrleg…

Coper: *pats the washing machine like a dog that just nabbed him a deer for dinner, sweeps the door shut and coos a few choice phrases to really bring the night to life* Let it all…take…over…

Ester: *the first to snap back to a dazed parody of reality* Mmm. Oh, this is nice…I don’t remember you being so flame-retardant, but alright…oh, hey, guys…and hey, YOU guys…and look at all o’ these goods here…I’ve got so many ideas…*keeps murmuring on as a cartoony thought bubble appears over him, revealing that he’s dreaming of himself lounging in the volcano on T-Shirt Island while surrounded by family, friends, and fabric…thus getting a taste of all the facets in his life being perfectly balanced*

Amp: *squirming around and making little “meep”s of contentment as its thought bubble appears and shows it dreaming of being…* ¥@¥…(((@(/<¥ (((@\/!~[_ !~/-!_@+@/3!_€ @/•;;;-/-!_@!!_!~[_ +_/3€ ;;;€…! (“Yay…wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube ME…!”)

Bel: *laying on the closest approximation to her back* So that’s how those are made…and there’s so many of them…all from that one spark… *thought bubble appears; she’s dreaming of holding space-time in her hands, not to control, but to observe*

Raffle: *growling, chuckling and biting at the air* You very pretty like that, Nuph…*thought bubble appears; they’re dreaming of being Godzilla-sized and hunting Dodos with the princess of their tribe (a character named Nuphar [“new-far”] that will be introduced soon; Raffle and Nuphar know each other but are only friends so far, despite Raffle having a big crush on her)*

Mentos: *sighs joyously and settles down amongst the pile of drowsy minds* Have fun. All of you. *looks up to her dad with a soft inhale* This has been the best present.

Coper: *gets down on one knee and waves a hand to command the Decas towards wrapping his daughter in a squishy group hug (their thought bubbles disappear as they obey)* In no way, shape, or form was I going to make it anything less. Happy birthday, love. Any pointers for next year?

Mentos: Always text me about what we’re doing. I gotta tell you, we’re gonna be UP to some stuff. There’s some cat in a suit, and a monkey who’s a scientist, and a water cooler that runs an office building…(Pawd. Nanners. Mevan. You know, the works!)

Coper: *smiles* You’ll still come back for an act or two more?

Mentos: *laughs* Cueball won’t ever slip outta this pocket. *taps the side of her…head?…with her spinal cord* And I’ll keep myself safe.

Coper: *gestures around to the other Decas* With these ones around, I don’t have the slightest doubt in that. *pulls the group hug into his chest, not much caring about the slime it gets on his suit* Here’s to next year?

Mentos: *nods and smirks* Divoja.

The other Decas: *snap up at the trigger word and slam back into their own bodies, wheezing sharply* BLURHG…

Coper and Mentos: *look at each other with a chuckle and spin those brains right back out, forming a sort of body-horror-light-show that’s so oddly emblematic of the season, it warms the heart…and the cortexes*

Bel: AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Ester: OH, DEAR KING NIMBUS, WHY???

Raffle: GRAAAAAAAAAAARG?!?

Amp: $@@@@@\/€ ;;;€€€€€€! (“Saaaave meeeeee!”)

Coper and Mentos: *flitting their fingers/spinal cord back and forth to mess with the others* Whee…wheeee…wheeeee-hee-heeeeeeeeee!

*Slow zooming out as the scene continues with no sign of stopping, the story fading to black with a cheery “Happy Holidays From The Cueball Palladium…” on screen in pink and yellow font, before the Decas’ brains fly past (still screaming and followed by a cackling pair of Dypolands), changing the words to “…Et. Al.”.*

Ok, that’s done, but I just wanna really quickly ask cause I will rant about other things to you as well

Do you like hypnosis in general or is it only really when MM’s around, cause hypnosis is my special interest and I have like at least 15 diff characters who I either fanoned or made up who have mind control powers, here’s a small selection for you to pick from bc why not (LMK if any of these interest you)

- Business CEO who’s supposed to be an older version of me, formal and a little tired all the time but really emotional and sharp when she needs to be, general badass

- Girlboss therapist who’s barely hit adulthood, originally comes from a comic strip and will protect her traumatized boyfriend (he’s not a smol whimpering bean, he’s just getting over A LOT OF SHIT that happened in his source material) with the power of her sinister machinations if need be…and even if need not be; she’s very mischievous

- Magical clock people (of whom Cookie is technically one, but he’s like an adopted member of the family) who embody sneaky stuff and general bullshittery, also they have enough power to melt your brain and then freeze it back to normal again and have existed for literally ever of the all time (they hang around the badass CEO lady)

- The badass CEO lady’s sidekick, a TV head robot who gained sentience and crushed its creators, and was built to do that which it does very well…keeping eyes on its screen

- A brother-sister pair who are the pinnacle of hypnotist kookiness (the brother is more dressed-down and psychiatrist-y, the sister is more dressed-to-the-goddamn-nines and feels like a psychic at a carnival except she’s gonna steal all your fucking money, and guess what, her brother will, too, haha they’re con artists)

As such, we've found a finale! Everyone's just hanging out while being slightly Menta-piled, it's not a 100% ideal thing unless you happen to be Mentos. Or Coper. Alas, it's a happy enough ending that there's no real reason to worry.

Either way, I'm honestly not THAT interested in 'nosis stuff outside of MM. The concept is there, and I respect it so long as it's used responsibly. But hey, I guess I can't really blame a special interest of yours for being one or hate on it just because I'm not that fond of it.

It's just human nature, I guess.