#alert function mute

[mortalityplays]

Dashboard unfucker 1.0:

reverts twitterfication of tumblr layout on desktop

Dashboard unfucker 2.0:

stops tumblr showing you a non functional empty login page for no reason

Dashboard unfucker 3.0:

restores user avatars

Dashboard unfucker 4.0:

allows hiding of user badges

reverses truncation of note count

Dashboard unfucker 5.0:

removes frightening clown

Dashboard unfucker 6.0:

allows muting of alert sirens and userjingles

Dashboard unfucker 7.0:

restores display of usernames

removes frightening clown (permanently this time)

Dashboard unfucker 8.0:

covers always-on livestream of uncomfortable looking midwestern woman in wet body paint with a black square (temporary fix as removing this element disables the dashboard feed. better solution soon)

reduces scale of numerals 310% (back to original size)

Dashboard unfucker 9.0:

alert siren functionality restored ONLY for the huntsman's siren, so desktop users have fair warning when he is about to spawn

removes moist sally livestream box altogether

Dashboard unfucker 9.2:

removes frightening clown hidden behind moist sally livestream box

Dashboard unfucker 10.0:

MAJOR UPDATE! posts are visible again

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension, suggestive, bickering

I sat on the edge of my freshly assembled bed, staring at the space that would be my "room" for the foreseeable future. Nick and I had spent most of the evening putting the bed frame together, with Chris lending a hand to drag the mattress up two flights of stairs. It had taken all three of us and a lot of complaining, but at least I had a proper bed to sleep on now.

Matt was gone off on some date, not that I cared. His absence, honestly, made the whole moving in process a lot less tense.

My little makeshift room was.. cosy, to put it nicely. A double bed took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for a small mirror, a desk, and a clothes drawer tucked neatly against one wall. With the tight layout, I had a single straight path to walk from my bed to the stairs. Functional, sure, but not exactly homey.

Nick was already in his room, snoring loudly enough that I could hear it from here. Chris, on the other hand, had retreated to his own room, probably wiped out again after hauling the mattress. I envied how easily they seemed to relax. My muscles ached from acting like Bob the Builder all evening, and my brain wasn’t far behind.

I flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was strange being here, surrounded by their world but not fully a part of it. Still, the alternative, being out on the street or scrambling to find a new place, was far worse.

I sat scrolling aimlessly on TikTok, letting myself unwind after the chaotic day of moving in. The glow of my phone screen lit up my little area, the sound of videos a comforting distraction. I figured I’d give myself a few more minutes to relax before heading downstairs to do my skincare routine and brush my teeth.

I kept scrolling until a rustling sound from one of the lower floors made me jump. My heart raced for a moment, my body on high alert. I wasn’t used to the random noises in this house yet, the creeks of old wood, the zing of appliances, or the occasional thud of someone moving around.

Then, I heard Matt's voice, accompanied by the distinct click of heels on the floor. My stomach dropped.

He brought the girl home.

I glanced at my phone. 00:40. God, that meant she was staying the night.

As they made their way up to the living area floor, their voices carried loud and clear through the paper thin walls. I cringed.

Their conversation was casual, punctuated by fake giggles from her. “Your room’s so nice, it’s like a cabin.” she gushed, her voice sugary sweet.

“It’s alright” Matt replied, his tone dripping with smugness.

Ew.

I muted my phone and sat still, debating whether I should head downstairs now or wait until the coast was clear. The thought of running into them made my skin crawl. They were clearly standing at the doorway to Matt’s room. So much for brushing my teeth anytime soon.

I lay there, my phone clutched in my hand, frozen between irritation and discomfort. Their voices were loud enough to hear every word. It felt like I was listening in on something I shouldn’t, but I didn’t exactly have a choice.

Then came the sound of heels again, clicking closer this time. My heart sank as their voices drifted toward the living area, closer to me. Great.

A soft laugh escaped the girl, followed by a low murmur from Matt. Then, silence.

But it wasn’t silent for long.

They’re kissing. On the couch.

The unmistakable sound of kissing reached my ears, loud and clear. My eyes widened in disbelief. I sat up, my head spinning with secondhand embarrassment and irritation. Did he not realize I could hear this? Or worse, did he just not care?

I clenched my jaw, trying to drown out the sounds with a pillow over my head. It didn’t help. Every smack of their lips was like nails on a chalkboard.

I groaned softly to myself, debating whether to storm downstairs and remind him I lived here now, or just endure it until they either moved to his room. Either way, this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be the peaceful, comfy evening I had hoped for.

I grabbed my airpods from the drawer and popped them into my ears, desperate for some form of escape. Nothing. They were dead.

Great. Just perfect.

The obnoxious sound of their smooching was still banging in my ears like an unwanted soundtrack to my night. Even Nick had stopped snoring now, so I had nothing else to drown it out. I glanced around my room, trying to figure out what to do. There was no way I was going to lie here and endure this.

My eyes landed on my skincare bag and toothbrush. If nothing else, I could make a point of walking downstairs and acting like I had no idea they were there. Maybe the sudden interruption would make them move it along, or, at the very least, stop.

I stood up and grabbed my things, taking a deep breath. My airpods may be dead, but I could at least pretend they weren’t. As long as I looked convincingly oblivious, I could save myself the embarrassment of outright acknowledging the situation.

Before walking down the stairs, I mentally rehearsed my best surprised face. My heart was thumping louder than I cared to admit as the sound of them kissing, and other noises, grew louder.

I rounded the corner into the living area and stopped.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, forging surprise as I pulled out one of my airpods. “Didn’t realize anyone was here.” Being honest, I didn’t even have to pretend to be shocked, since the sight of this girl straddling Matt on the couch was enough to horrify me.

Matt froze, his hands still draped on the girl's ass. The girl on top of him looked equally startled, her lipstick slightly smudged.

“Uh, hey..” Matt said, his tone clipped. “Didn’t think you’d be up.”

“Just doing my skincare” I said innocently, holding up my bag and toothbrush. “Don’t mind me.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked toward the bathroom, not making eye contact, ignoring the tension radiating from the couch. My heart was still pounding, but at least the obnoxious kissing had stopped, for now.

I quickly got to work on my routine, splashing water on my face and scrubbing at my skin like it could wash away the awkwardness of the situation. My movements were brisk, my toothbrush scrubbing furiously as if speed could get me out of here faster.

As I brushed my teeth, I heard the distinct shuffle of footsteps outside the bathroom. My stomach tightened, anticipating another run in, but the sound moved away, followed by the soft click of Matt’s bedroom door.

Finally.

Relief washed over me. At least now they were behind a closed door. I no longer felt like an unwilling participant in whatever was going on. I finished my routine in record time, putting my things back into my bag and sneaking out of the bathroom as quietly as I could.

By the time I made it back to my room, I could feel the tension leaving my shoulders. I placed my skincare bag back on the desk and sank onto my bed, letting out a long exhale.

I grabbed my phone, intending to scroll until the remaining awkwardness faded. But as I stared at the ceiling, the muffled sound of laughter drifted faintly through the walls. It wasn’t nearly as intrusive as before, but it was enough to remind me of the thin walls around me, and how much I’d need to get used to.

I clenched my jaw, pulling the blanket tighter around me as if that could somehow block out the sounds filtering through. The muffled laughter had shifted into something unmistakably intimate, and my stomach churned at the realization.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to focus on anything else, the ticking of the clock, the buzz of the fridge downstairs.  But it was no use.

Every sound was crystal clear.

I could hear them, the creak of the mattress, soft whispers I couldn't quite make out, the moaning. God this was worse than the kissing. So much worse.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered under my breath, sitting upright. My pulse was racing, not out of embarrassment anymore but sheer irritation. This wasn’t just awkward, it was infuriating. Was this intentional? To make me hate living here?

It was like they were testing the limits of how much this house, and I, could take.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips. This was my first night here, and already, I was questioning if I’d made the right decision. It’s temporary, I reminded myself. Just temporary.

But as the noises continued, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of resentment. For Matt’s complete disregard, for the lack of privacy in this house, for the way my life had taken such a turn that I now had to endure this.

I was in and out of sleep all night long. I woke up feeling like a zombie, my body heavy and my eyes barely staying open. I checked my phone, barely three hours of sleep. One hour for each round Matt and his guest had last night. The memory of it made my skin crawl.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. Dark circles hung under my eyes like a badge of exhaustion, and my hair was a mess from tossing and turning all night.

The house was eerily quiet now, almost as if mocking me. Of course, Matt was probably passed out after his marathon night. Lucky him.

I grabbed my phone and typed out a message to Nick:

"Do you guys keep earplugs in this house, or is suffering a rite of passage?"

I hesitated for a moment before deleting it. No need to drag Nick into this. It wasn’t his fault.

Instead, I sighed and decided to make the best of the morning. I could unpack more, maybe take a walk, or even look into noise canceling headphones because there was no way I could survive another night like that.

But as I turned to leave my room, that tinge of resentment hit me again. This was Matt’s fault. He could have been a little considerate, knowing I was just down the hall, or whatever you’d call my little corner.

I walked down the stairs into the kitchen, the house feeling too big and too empty in its silence. Coffee. I needed coffee before I even thought about dealing with anyone today.

I sat at the kitchen table, my head resting in my hands as the Keurig gurgled behind me, the sound of coffee trickling into the cup almost soothing. Almost.

Chris waltzed upstairs, his energy a stark contrast to my sluggish state. He was as fresh as a daisy, a casual smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. “Morning!” he said, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “How’d you sleep?”

I looked at him, deadpan, and decided on sarcasm. “Wonderful. Like a baby.” I muttered, my tone laced with just enough edge to hint at my actual feelings.

Chris raised an eyebrow, catching on. “That bad, huh?”

I shrugged, not wanting to dive into the details of Matt’s activities last night. Instead, I turned around and grabbed my coffee, taking a sip hoping the caffeine would kick in soon.

Chris leaned on the counter, his tone shifting to something more focused. “So, about the new drop for Fresh Love. Think you can come up with some sample ideas for patches by tomorrow? I’ll work on the colorways. I’d like to get it sent off before I go to Vegas.”

Vegas.

The word snapped me out of my haze. Right. Chris and Matt were going away for three nights, then coming back to LA for just one before jetting off to Hawaii for two weeks with Nick.

I blinked, the weight of everything hitting me at once. Between moving, the sleepless night, and now this, I’d completely forgotten how much pressure I was under with work. My mind raced through ideas, trying to piece together something coherent.

“Yeah” I said, nodding despite the slight panic rising in my chest. “I’ll figure it out. Patches by tomorrow, right?”

Chris smiled, his confidence in me evident. “Knew you’d have it covered. And hey, don’t stress. We’ve got this.”

Easy for him to say, I thought as he grabbed his soda and strolled back downstairs, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts and a mountain of work.

I grabbed my sketch pad from my room and set up at the kitchen table, my hand slightly trembling as I flipped it open, the faint lines of the new designs already starting to take shape.

It was quiet in the house, Nick and Chris had just headed out for some meeting, and Matt had yet to leave his room. The weight of the silence felt heavier with each passing minute.

Two hours passed, and my head began to throb, a dull ache spreading behind my eyes. It was a mix of exhaustion from the lack of sleep and the mounting pressure of the work I still had to finish. I looked down at the sketches in front of me. It was progress, at least. So, I decided to pack it in for the moment. A nap was probably what I needed most.

As I stood up from the table and gathered my things, I heard the soft sound of footsteps from the hallway. I looked over my shoulder, and there he was, Matt, strolling into the kitchen like he hadn’t just spent the entire night with some girl, oblivious to the fact that I was the one who had been kept up by the sounds of it all.

I couldn’t stop myself from speaking up. “Well, doesn’t someone look fresh after their wild night last night” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is your guest still here?”

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by my tone. “Jealous?” he shot back, his usual smugness back in full force. “And no, she’s not. She left early this morning.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, I hope she’s off somewhere having a lovely nap” I said, crossing my arms. “Because I know me and her got the same amount of sleep last night.”

There was a brief moment of silence between us. He didn’t flinch, but I could see a flicker of guilt flash across his face for just a second before it was gone.

“Look” Matt finally said, his voice more casual than usual. “I didn’t know you were going to be up all night. If I’d known, I would’ve been more-”

“Considerate?” I finished for him, unable to hold back the bite in my voice. 

Matt ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated now. “Fine. You’re right. I get it. But you know I can’t exactly control when someone stays over, right?”

I didn’t reply immediately. He was right in some sense, but the fact that he hadn’t even considered the noise, the situation, or what I might be dealing with.. it pissed me off.

“Whatever” I muttered, turning to head back upstairs. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but some of us actually need it.”

I didn’t wait for his response as I stormed off, my blood still boiling from the interaction. It wasn’t just about last night, it was about the constant tension, the lack of boundaries. It was becoming too much.

As I made it up to my room, the ache escalated into a full blown migraine. By the time I flopped onto my bed, it felt like a jackhammer was drilling into my skull. The sunlight streaming in from the open doorway to the stairs hit my eyes like daggers, and the heat of my poorly ventilated room wrapped around me, suffocating and relentless.

I tried to block it all out, pulling the blanket over my head, but every random creek and distant sound in the house grated on my already frazzled nerves. The sensitivity was overwhelming, each small discomfort magnified to unbearable proportions. My chest tightened as I fought back tears.

It was too much, too much noise, too much heat, too much light, too much stress. I curled up tighter, clutching my blanket and wishing for the sweet relief of darkness and silence.

I could feel my body resisting every movement, but I knew I had to do something to make it stop. I couldn’t lie in this room anymore like this, suffocating in the heat, with the light stabbing at my skull. Maybe if I opened the windows in the living area and pulled down the blinds, it would let in some fresh air and block out the brightness. The windows here were huge, maybe that would help.

With a pained groan, I pushed myself off the bed and stumbled towards the stairs. My head felt like it was going to split open with every step, the harsh light of the house almost unbearable as it hit me like a brick wall. I gagged, my stomach turning from the intensity. But I pushed through, gritting my teeth and forcing my body to move.

When I reached the living room, I collapsed onto the couch, already winded and shaky. I stretched out, trying to reach the top window to open it, my fingers brushing the edge but not quite able to grip the latch.

Just as I was about to pull myself up further, I heard Matt’s voice behind me. "What are you doing?"

I paused, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. "I have a migraine" I said, my voice rough and strained. "My room’s too bright.. too hot.. trying to make it cooler.. darker. Trying not to get sick." I kept my back to him, hoping he'd let me do what I needed without pestering.

But I knew Matt, he’d always have something to say. I was just waiting for it.

“If you want to sleep in my room, I mean.. it’s got blackout curtains, and it's way cooler than in your room..” he suggested, his voice more neutral than before.

I didn’t even look back at him, still focused on trying to pry open the window. "After what went on in your bed last night" I said, sarcasm seeping into my voice, "it’s the last place I want to be."

There was a brief pause, and I heard him sigh behind me. Then, I heard his footsteps approach the kitchen.

“I get it” he muttered, though I didn’t quite believe him. He probably didn’t care what happened, but he was probably just saying something to avoid further confrontation. “You want me to grab a basin or something? In case you get sick?”

I glanced over at him, my expression barely more than a grimace. "Yeah, that'd be great" I said, my voice barely above a whisper, absolutely sweating. “Please.”

I could hear him rummaging around for a moment before he returned with a shallow plastic basin. I didn’t want to admit how grateful I was for the small gesture. My stomach churned just thinking about what had happened the night before, but I didn’t need to explain myself anymore.

“Here” he said, handing it to me, his tone a little softer than before. 

I nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue, and just wanted to crawl back into my space and hopefully get some sleep.

“Thanks” I muttered, but it didn’t feel like enough. It was just a small act of kindness, but with everything going on, it felt like a relief.

As he walked away, I took the basin and held it under my arm, crawling up the stairs to my room. I placed the basin near the edge of my bed, just in case. I climbed back under the covers, pulling a pillow to my face, and tried to block out the world. It wasn’t going to make my migraine vanish, but I hoped it would give me some relief. 

I was wrong.

Suddenly I hear a knock on my fake wall, I let out a slow breath, the migraine still pounding behind my eyes as Matt’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I’ve changed my sheets..” he says, poking his head through the entrance to my room. He looks less irritated than he did earlier, though I can’t tell if it's genuine or just a matter of convenience. “The offer’s still there, or you gonna keep being stubborn? I mean, you’re not gonna get any rest like this.”

I shift uncomfortably, weighing the option in my head. My room was stifling, bright, and getting worse by the minute, and Matt’s room was.. well, it was still Matt’s room, but at least it would be dark, cool, and quiet.

The migraine was winning, and at that moment, I just needed relief. I was tired of feeling like a burden, tired of pretending I didn’t need help.

"Fine" I say, finally giving in. "I’ll take you up on the offer."

“Good choice” he mutters, not sounding as smug as he usually would. “You can’t keep living in a sauna.”

I don’t respond, too drained to argue. He steps back toward the door, preparing to walk back down the stairs.

“I’m going to head out for a bit, so make your way down when you want” he says, clearly wanting to wrap this up, as he turns to walk away.

I shuffled toward the entrance to my room, the floor creaking beneath my feet. I walked downstairs and toward his room, the familiar discomfort of being in his space only adding to my already scattered nerves.

When I opened the door, I was immediately hit by the cool air that seemed to welcome me. The room was dark, the blinds drawn tight, and the bed looked inviting, a stark contrast to the mess of my own space. The girl was right, it was nice and it did look like a cabin.

It was much quieter in here, no random noises or heat beating down on me. I could feel my headache ease just slightly, as though the room itself was offering me some relief.

I set my things down on the edge of the bed, feeling the exhaustion hit me again. It wasn’t ideal, but it was definitely better than the alternative.

As I settled into Matt's bed, the sheets cool against my skin, I couldn't help but feel how odd it was to be here. The space was familiar, yet so unfamiliar at the same time. The scent of him lingered in the air, mixed with the faint traces of cologne. It felt almost wrong, like I was stepping into a part of his world that wasn’t meant for me.

The bed was comfortable, but the proximity to Matt's life, his space, his things, was unsettling. I found myself shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t remind me that I was lying in the very place he'd probably shared countless nights with someone else.

It wasn’t just the room that felt off. The silence between us, the awkwardness of me being here in the first place, how he was making it awkward. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping to force the discomfort away, but it lingered, gnawing at the back of my mind while the migraine hit at the front.

It wasn’t my bed. It wasn’t my room. It wasn’t supposed to be me here.

But for now, it was where I had to be. And as strange as it felt, there was nothing left to do but sleep and hope that when I woke up, things would somehow feel a little less.. weird.

a/n: matt being.. nice?

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Arcana Interpretations

symbolism for your next poem/story (pt. 1)

1. The Magician

The beginning, the first cause, Mercurial influence

Good: Dexterity, ability, diplomacy, eloquence, convincing ways, an alert mind, a quick mind, business acumen

Bad: A persuasive boaster, an illusionist, intrigue, careerist, politician, charlatan, imposter, liar, a crook, an exploiter; an agitator, a lack of scruples

2. The Priestess

Mystery, intuition, devotion, passive Saturnian influence

Good: reserved, discreet, quiet, meditation, faith, patient, religious feelings, resignation, modesty; necessary inaction

Bad: hidden intentions, dissimulation, hypocrisy, inaction, laziness, sanctimonious, holds a grudge, an indifferent disposition, interest in the mystical

3. The Empress

Prudence, discretion, idealism and intellectual solar influence

Good: Understanding, intelligence, instruction, charm, courteous, sociable, elegance, distinction, politeness; domination by the mind, abundance, riches; servility

Bad: Affectation, poseur, stylish, vanity, pretentious, disdain, frivolity, idleness, luxury, extravagant; sensitivity to flattery, lack of refinement, ways of nouveaux riche

4. The Emperor

Firm, positivism, executive power, Saturnian-Martial influence

Good: Right, rigid, certitude, fixed ideas, realization, perseverance, strong willpower, acts on decisions; powerful protector

Bad: Tenuous opposition, stubborn, hostile prejudice, opinionated, bad government, big risks of failure; tyranny, absolutism

5. The Pope

Duty, morality, conscience, Jupiterian influence

Good: Moral authority, respectability, teaching, good advice, goodwill, indulgent, generosity, forgiveness; meekness

Bad: Papal sentence, strict moralist, strict teacher, small-minded theorist, bombastic preacher; an adviser with a lank of practical sense

6. The Lovers

Feelings, freewilled, testing, double influence of Venus or more exactly Ishtar the war like star of the morning, then amorous as the stars go down

Good: Voluntary determinism, choice, wished, aspirations, desires; examinations, deliberations, responsibility; affections

Bad: To go through doubts and indecision; dangerous temptation, the risk of being seduced, misconduct, liberty, weakness, lack of heroism

7. The Chariot

Triumph, command, superiority, Martian-solar influence

Good: Legitimate success, deserved advancement, talent, health, aptitudes put to good effect; governmental tact, diplomacy, efficient direction, appeasement; progress, mobility, journeys on land

Bad: Unjustified ambition, lack of talent, usurped situation, illegitimate government, dictatorship, harmful concessions, dangerous opportunism, worrying about which way to go, preoccupations, overworked, feverish activity without rest

8. Justice

Order, regularity, method, equilibrium, placid lunar influences

Good: Stability, conservatism, organization, normal functioning; law, discipline, logic, coordination, adapting to necessities, moderate opinions, practical sense, reason, administration, economy, obedience

Bad: Bourgeoisism, submission to users, lack of initiative, slaving over books, functionalism, papers; police station; legal dispute, law suit, quarrel, exploitation of the legal system

9. The Hermit

Prudence, reserve, restriction, Saturnian influence

Good: Isolation, concentration, silence, profoundness, meditation, study; austerity, continence, sobriety, discretion; doctor, discreet occultist

Bad: Timid, misanthrope, mute, exaggerated circumspection, lack of sociability, sullen character; avarice, poverty, celibacy, chaste; conspirator

10. The Wheel of Fortune

Destiny, instability, lunar-Mercurial influence

Good: Sagacity, an opportunist, luck in all undertakings, luck, fortuitous success; spontaneity, an inventive disposition, liveliness, good humour

Bad: Carelessness, speculation, game, insecurity, unserious, the unexpected, gypsy character; unstable situation, sudden change, winnings and losses; adventures, risks, minor fortune

11. Strength

Virtue, courage, Jupiter-Mars influence

Good: Moral energy, calm, intrepid; mind over matter; intelligence conquering brutality; subjugation of passions; success in industry

Bad: Anger, impatience, immoderate enthusiasm, insensibility, cruelty, fighting, war, conquering with violence, a surgical operation, vehemence, discord, fire

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ On Tarot

[cas-readsandwrites]

Traipse

Prologue and Masterlist - this landing page will be updated with final installments soon! My prompts got away from me and it's all turning out much longer than I anticipated, and I wanted to have something to share in time for the challenge and be able to bookmark this space for the finished story.

For @justagalwhowrites Birthday Challenge for our favorite TLOU main character. Prompts: Nightmares and Feral Joel. Setting: TLOU HBO series, set within the period of 5-20 years after the outbreak. Characters: Joel x OC Female, Tommy, Tess.

Author’s note: This is literally the worst birthday present I could give anyone. Content warnings for canon-typical violence, character deaths, suicidal ideation, substance use. It is not a happy ending. It’s gonna be kind of long. Someone toss me down a well after this.  Credit to the lyrics of Traipse by Tremonti for story title and chapter titles 🖤 AO3 link

~ ~ ~

Prologue: Cold Is The Light of the Sun

2008, Outbreak Year + 5 

Through the darkness, Joel felt more than saw or heard as Tommy found him in the patch of trees and shrubs, branches shifting and breeze disturbing the air as his brother climbed back into the partially-covered hole they had selected for the night. Tommy slid next to him, thumping him on the back. 

“It’s good, Joel, they say everything should be exactly where we heard. If we can scout it out tomorrow before dark, we can grab it and run.” Joel just nodded, his gaze still alert and swiveling around them.

Tommy thumped him on the back again. “Go to sleep, bro. I’m awake from running around. Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up.” Joel nodded mutely again, these periods of sullen silence occurring more frequently recently. Tommy glanced down at his brother as Joel shifted around in the dirt, trying to find a place slightly more comfortable in the pine branches and with his pack. 

For the past five years, Joel had lived in a cycle of fog and clarity, some function of his brain able to root onto the basic needs for survival, and Tommy making up for the rest of it. Tommy kept saying maybe the next loot they would find, the next raid - that they were reluctantly joining more and more frequently - would find them a place were they could settle, some protected land somewhere without infected, without enough other people to make it worth it for competing raiders or the spreading fingers of FEDRA. Joel wasn’t sure he believed it, but it sounded better than however they had been living, even if he knew it would never, ever, come close to what their family had before. Regardless, he followed his brother, he kept his head on a swivel, he became proficient with firearms, became comfortable with the knowledge of his own strength and the knowledge of how he could use it.

Now, though, he stilled in a spot in the hole, his arms wrapped around his rifle and a strap of his pack. Tommy covered the top a bit more and sat up a bit where he could see out. As Joel fell asleep, he quietly extended one hand, coming in contact just enough with his brother to find where he was and know that he was warm and ok. That basic function in his brain finally quieted enough for him to sleep. If he didn't, the nightmares raged stronger, as if coming from cold light in the dark and knowing how to find him unmoored.

~ ~ ~

Part 1 ->

5 total parts coming VERY soon! 9k 11k 15k and counting

WIP Sneak Peak

Epilogue

[knaveofmogadore]

Imagine you're a robot girl (stay with me) and you're made by a corporation right like you're made by a company for other people but like. You're made by a company. At any moment that company could decide that your line isn't profitable enough and they could cut software updates and support as soon as tomorrow. In the blink of an eye the very things keeping you alive stop coming and you've become terminally ill overnight, your only chance of salvation being the thin hope that in the future a niche group of data hoarders or software engineers become obsessed with getting you to work again. You're an object with sentience and a brain and wants and needs and at any moment the Google news feed of the crusty computer nerd you live with could spit an alert across your eyes telling you that you have months to live.

What even happens when the time runs out? Does life continue as normal, but you're sick more and more often? Do the viruses take more and more processing power to fight off as your security protocols fall out of date? Does the world become muted and distant as your compatibility fails? Do you one day just lose your Internet connection forever, a loss so profound that you can't explain it to your human companions? It's worse than a limb, but not quite like losing your mind.

Do you lose function bit by bit, or are you able to scrape by on second hand parts? Bit by bit replacing the pieces of you that fail, all the while living a muted, disorienting existence without the ability to right yourself? Are you more or less of a person now that you've lost touch with the network? Lost your connection to the metaphysical, to you, the divine? Are you eventually bricked after falling behind one too many software patches? Do you fry after trying to take on an update you're not able to even contain, a piece of software so complex and unfathomable that it burns you to a crisp from the inside out

[heliopauseentertainments]

Choice Location

Part of MegOp Week 2024 Prompt - Day 4: Role Reversal/Peace

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationships: Megatron & Optimus Prime

Characters: Megatron, Optimus Prime

Warnings: Quintuple Drabble, Vignette

Summary: In which Megatron waits on a quiet moon for Optimus to arrive.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

It was quiet, Megatron thought.

The void of space usually was but the silence on a barren rock, little more than a desolate asteroid named only by an automatically generated number and tucked away in a scarcely visited solar system, was different. Here there was a weight to silence, pressing down on his body rather than in space where the nothingness tried to pull his frame outward.

The small planetoid was just large enough to hold its bulk in a spherical shape, to have a small horizon…. Just large enough to have the gravity necessary to keep Megatron from floating off into space as he reclined against its rough silicate surface, waiting.

It wasn’t quite sizable enough, however, to hold onto any detectable atmosphere, which meant being functionally deaf and mute without any gaseous molecules to transit the pressure waves of sound.

When Optimus touched down on the opposite side of the planetoid, as planned, Megatron was alerted by the combined subtle tremors in the rock and the buzz of a familiar voice through his internal commlink.

“I’ve made it.”

The synthetic voice, simulated by their internal systems to mimic what was mechanically produced by a vocalizer, wasn’t quite the same. A near perfect imitation, but there was always something off. The imperfections in audio quality added to the surreality of a clandestine meeting on a nowhere “world.”

Megatron slowly pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the coating of moon dust that clung to his armor through static attraction. Standing up too quickly in such low gravity could have sent him careening into the void.

“You kept me waiting.”

“My apologies; you know how traffic can be.”

Megatron tried to scoff, but with no air for the pressure to travel, all that happened was a soundless, dull clunking sensation in his throat.

“Yes.”

His own synthesized voice was a low buzz in his signal feedback, flat and crisp around the edges. It lost so much, but it didn’t feel like it would blow away the smooth dust coating the planetoid.

“I’m sure you had to battle armies of commuters on the way to this popular vacation destination.”

The shuttle that Megatron had brought with him was only tenuously parked on the unstable regolith. Optimus’s was likely in a similarly precarious position on the other side of the rock.

It was almost as though the physicality of the meeting place itself was enforcing a peaceful interaction. Any violence, rough movements, or recoil from gunfire could send them flying away, unable to reach their respective vessels. No wonder Optimus chose this location for their meeting.

Unfortunately, Megatron would have to give credit where credit was due.

An almost poetic tactic given what they had hoped to achieve here—peace at long last— far away from the belligerent eyes of their officers and soldiers.

Cresting what barely constituted a low rise, Megatron saw Optimus, a bright, vivid bloom in the dust, waiting on the other side.

“Tell me, Prime, where shall we start?”

[seaside-lovers]

Scarecrow finds himself struggling to sleep until a newfound friend pays a visit.

A/N: Posted before (on this blog, too, I believe) but I updated it to flow more smoothly and added some more detail. Reblogs highly appreciated :)

divider by @/kodaswrld

Night had fallen in Alpha Centauri, and most of the planet's residents were resting and dreaming of the next day’s events. One particular resident, however, found himself wide awake and unable to properly enter rest mode. Though Scarecrow had dimmed his screen and muted all possible sensory input, the aching of his joints still flared; he silently cursed his masters for giving all of their features to the robots… even the inconvenient ones. Of all the things for us to share, the ability to feel pain is one they had to give… Every part of his body ached; his joints creaked in protest as he shifted, trying to get comfortable on the pile of cushions.

While he certainly was not going to turn down the opportunity to live once again, he certainly had not missed the physical pains that came with life. While his kind were made to be brought back from the dead once, a second time was mostly unheard of. Scarecrow himself had never even heard of a ‘bot being revived more than once… until he found himself back on his home planet with a human ship several hundred feet away, the familiar silhouettes of Will and Robot standing over him, dark with the sun against their backs.

Scarecrow shifted again, his neck stiff; the pillow softened the wooden slats beneath him but did nothing for the pain that flared in his joints. A human shelter would never have been his first choice, but he was not going to reject a place to stay hidden from the elements. He was wiser than that. Any shelter was better than no shelter, especially considering the weather patterns of Alpha Centauri had been rainy lately. Rain would not help his body at all. Letting out a huff, he finally turned his sensory functions back on; there was no point in trying to recharge tonight.

A noise, shuffling of small feet against dirt. His sensors lit up like explosions, alerting him to a possible threat. Despite his aching body, he was up in an instant, lasers powering up, ready to fight for his newly given life.

“Scarecrow…? It’s me. I wanted to check on you.” The barn door creaked open; Kate’s silhouette was recognizable even with the dark atmosphere outside.

He forced himself to relax, powering down his lasers and tucking his upper arms back into their place. He realized his body was shivering and his joints flaring, being reminded of electricity coursing through them. You’re not in danger. You’re fine. She’s not going to hurt you. This mantra repeated in his head over and over again, trying to remind him that this was not a bad human.

He took a moment to force himself to focus on her as she gently closed the door behind her, then disappeared from his sight as she approached the ladder that led to his loft. “Can I come up?” Her voice was soft; with the rain pattering down, he struggled to make out exactly what she was saying.

He slowly approached the ledge and peered over, staring down at the human. She stared right back at him, blinking slowly, waiting for his permission. A welcome change from his days being the pilot of the Resolute.

He gestured for her to climb up, then retreated back to his corner, listening to her footsteps and light humming.

She approached him slowly, each step placed carefully and her eyes downcast. Scarecrow assumed he scared her - he was much bigger and stronger than she was. He could easily rip her to shreds if he wanted to. And yet, despite his assumption, she didn’t seem to actually fear him in any way. Her cautiousness seemed almost… respectful, in a way.

Kate got within a few feet and stopped to look up at him; she smiled, eyes crinkling, and held out something - he had not noticed it tucked under her arm before.

A blanket.

“I thought you might want this,” she said, still smiling, but the smile fluttered just a moment. There - that was a hint of nervousness. His first meeting with her after she had offered the barn to him was similar - that almost but not quite never-disappearing smile, a sign that he had learned was of her not knowing how to handle what she had gotten herself into.

He craned his neck to get a better look at it - the material seemed soft, dyed a dark red with white symbols scattered across it. The human interpretation of stars, he noted. Some sort of electronic device was attached to it. He stayed where he was, staring at the blanket, then looking up at her. What would I need a blanket for?

Kate’s smile disappeared, her brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips. “I-I’m sorry, I figured the cushions aren’t much protection against the cold. Maybe you don’t even get cold… but something soft might still be a comfort to you. And this heats up, too. I know you seem to be in pain, ‘cause you limp a lot… and humans, when our muscles hurt, we use heat to soothe them.  So maybe this will help you, too?” The words spilled quickly out of her mouth. Another sign of nervousness, Scarecrow mused to himself. Overexplaining as to not upset him.

He looked at her eyes for a moment, then reached forward slowly. Taking the blanket from her outstretched hand, he felt his claws gently trace along her fingers as he drew his arm back. Scarecrow held the blanket up in front of his screen, inspecting it further.

A comfort. That was a good word to use for the blanket. He had always been fond of warmer colors, and the blanket was a nice shade of red. While he scoffed at the crudely shaped stars, he still liked the way the white broke up the continuous red and formed a nice pattern. And the heating element would be a welcome addition as well. He finally drew the blanket up to his chest and began to knead it with his lower hands, enjoying the feeling of the material under his claws.

Scarecrow glanced back up after a few moments to see Kate smiling again, a much more relaxed smile than before. “I’m glad you like it. Do you want me to cover you with it? And I can turn on the heating element for you, too. It’ll turn off automatically after a couple of hours, so no need to worry about setting the barn on fire or anything.”

Scarecrow hesitated for a moment. This was already the closest a human had been to him for… awhile. During his time with John, Maureen, and Don, none of them had dared approach him so closely. Whether it was out of respect or fear, he didn’t know… but he figured it was the latter. They did not trust him, but they did not hurt him or make him their slave, either.

Kate did not make him work for her either. She seemed content with him spending most of his time in the barn. She didn’t even make any rude comment when he left the barn to observe her birds a few weeks ago but rather talked to him about her pets… chickens and ducks, she called them. Funny little Earth creatures. Each one had their own name and personality she knew. When he left to go back to his resting area, she smiled and waved at him. If she were so caring for these little earth creatures, calculations told him that it was likely she would be kind to him as well.

She won’t hurt me. She wants to help me.

“Yes, Kate Robinson.”

Kate nodded and approached him, holding her hands out for the blanket. He handed it to her and laid down on the cushions, getting comfortable again. She fluffed the blanket, then threw one side over his back. Gently she tucked it under him and did the same on his other side, then pressed a button on the small, electronic device attached to the blanket. Immediately it began to heat up, and Scarecrow felt a purr begin to rumble deep within his core as the heat seeped into his joints, relaxing his body.

Kate smiled at his purring, then turned and began to walk toward the ladder, turning to wave at him at the same time. “Let me know if you need anything else, Scarecrow. You know where to find me.” As she began her descent down the ladder, Scarecrow felt a surge of gratefulness rising. She had done all of this for him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had helped him… other than Ben.

“Thank you, Kate Robinson,” he rumbled.

Kate paused momentarily and turned back to face him, her eyebrows raised. “You’re welcome.” She gave him a small smile before turning back and climbing down the ladder. He listened carefully as she exited the barn, the sound of her footsteps and quiet humming fading into the rain.

Well, she was certainly right about the blanket. He was much more relaxed than he had been in a long time. He began to knead the blanket with both of his lower arms, the rumbling deep in his chest getting stronger as he enjoyed the texture.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought, this source of purring isn’t just because of the blanket. An image of Kate smiling warmly at him flitted through his mind and warmed him much more than the blanket ever could, but he quickly squashed that thought back down into the dark recesses of his memories; he certainly wasn’t ready to deal with that whole new development yet.

He would, in time, learn about human courting rituals.

How that would go, he had no clue. But he knew he had her patience, and she had given him all the time in the world to build up his trust.

Soon, perhaps, we can get to know her better, he thought, settling back down into the cushions with the blanket wrapped around him. The pattering of rain continued as he was lulled into rest mode, thoughts of Kate’s smile warming him from the inside out.

[kivaember]

What's your headcanon for the different branch members? It can be anything really, sexuality, history, I remember that Branch is a rotating cast of characters apparently, what do you think that means?

I had to think about this, because trying to figure out how an "anonymous, rotating group of mercenaries" work in a way that isn't completely chaotic or short-lived was an interesting exercise.

Way I figure it is that there're multiple 'branches' for a loose, decentralised organisation of mercenaries that acknowledge that the galaxy needs to change from its hypercapitalistic hellscape ways, but all have differing ideas on how to go about it. Nightfall, King and Chartreuse are part of a "branch" that function in their grid square of the galaxy - and are likely the most notorious ever since alerting to the reemergence of Coral to the wider galaxy.

Anyone can claim to be Branch, really. By APV time, there're like hundreds of Branches, all across the galaxy, all spawning from the same tree of discontent and desire for change. Some Branches take more direct action against corporations in form of piracy, some work within corporations to damage it from the inside, and you have those like Nightfall, where they're more like hacktivists and shining a giant beacon of light on the less savoury going ons of the UEG and the corporations.

Way I square their actions on Rubicon, they were anticipating the corporations to go sprinting towards Rubicon and coming into direct conflict with the PCA and the remaining natives that lived on the planet. They wanted it to become a big fucking spectacle, to show how dysfunctional things really were between the government and the corporations supposedly subservient to said government. In their minds Rubicon was a acceptable collateral to achieve this aim.

Now for the actual Branch members: I feel like the three of them originally worked together as an actual mercenary group before deciding to join "Branch", and are tightly-knit as a result. If they leave Branch, they'd do it altogether, rather than replacing any singular members that leave. I feel like King would be the voice of reason and moderation, Chartreuse the bold one putting forward plans with great pay-offs but high risks, while Nightfall is the leader but in a passive way. They're willing to go along with whatever King and Chartreuse decide, but in the end they have the final say, and if they say "no" to something, then the other two accept it no problem.

As for Nightfall's operator... I know it was as a throwback to previous AC games, but I suppose in AC6 context she functions a little like Walter does: she does the legwork in finding jobs, making connections, vetting clients, and giving live updates and guidance during missions. For Nightfall she just doubles as their voice, since Nightfall doesn't speak - whether bc they're mute like 621 or because they don't like talking durng missions, I haven't really decided yet dhdfhdf

They're a rowdy, well-known bunch. They can live comfortably on the pay they receive for their services (bc they can charge A LOT for their work), but they're always driven to do the next big, attention-grabbing thing to kick down the UEG's sandcastles, so they spend a lot of money in a very short time, much to Operator's exasperation (she also doubles as their accountant, and she despairs over their repair bills).

Some off hand hcs, hm... Chartreuse can drink like a fish, whereas King has abysmal alcohol tolerance, yet still lets Chartreuse goad him into drinking contests. Nightfall doesn't drink at all, but enjoys sitting with them when they do, and Operator drinks only moderately, because she can't chance having a too-bad hangover the next day. The only one who knows how to cook is King, everyone else would just live off takeout otherwise.

All of them are in some kinda polycule thing that none of them can really explain or describe in detail but it works for them so hey ho.

[electrical-sciences-dump]

ooc: TW — unethical human experimentation, severe sleep deprivation

Electrical Lab #3

Introduction: This is an experiment conducted by Dr. Miller and Dr. Anderson. We are using electricity experimentally to determine if it can be used to further the effectiveness of Department forces or to make temporary containment (without a Delta present) more viable. This is considered to be a similar process to ECT, although omitting any anesthetic as it is unnecessary.

Subject: Dreamwalker #9126

Purpose: To prove it is possible to fully incapacitate the powers of a dreamwalker without using a Delta to mute their core.

Hypothesis: It should work, as sleep deprivation will incapacitate most average people. But it is debatable whether or not being unable to fall asleep will prevent the subject from working around the muting of their core.

Materials:

Two metal discs (electrodes)

Source of electrical current (in our case, Dr. Miller's powers)

Electroencephalogram (in order to monitor brain wave activity, in our case to check for signs of the subject beginning to fall asleep)

Electrical current controller (a small machine that will ensure Dr. Miller's electricity input, when sent to the subject, will not exceed safe levels)

It was deemed that painkillers and muscle relaxants were not necessary.

Procedure:

Situate subject, place sensors (for detecting when the patient is beginning to fall asleep) and place the electrodes on either side of their head.

Rig sensors to an alert system, so that we are aware of when the electric shocks must be administered to ensure the subject does not fall asleep

Keep subject locked in containment room, ensure cuffs are in place to prevent subject from acting on hostile urges.

Send electrical current before patient falls asleep; repeat as long as necessary. In our case, this experiment went on for three days, more accurately 73 hours.

Observations:

Dreamwalker 9126 seemed calm for the first 4 hours, although nervous and antsy due to having been displaced from their home.

Once we entered into the 5th hour, Dreamwalker 9126 showed visible signs of boredom and some frustration. This continues for a few more hours.

Around the 12th hour, exhaustion began to overtake Dreamwalker 9126 and we got our first ping on the alert system. We delivered a very small shock, which quickly brought 9126 back to full wakefulness. 9126 seemed perturbed by the sensation, but made no remarks.

Feeding 9126 calmed them slightly, although we observed some sadness. They became more compliant again after eating.

For the next several hours, into the 2nd day, we continued delivering electrical shocks regularly, as 9126 was continually showing signs of nearing sleep.

By 7:42 AM on the second day of the experiment, 9126 showed less signs of exhaustion, and seemed to be resisting the effects of their tiredness. No electrical shocks were needed for 5 hours.

Once noon passed on the second day, 9126 began falling asleep again. This time, when we delivered the shock, they visibly jolted awake, and looked distressed. They proceeded to strongly resist sleep for a few more hours. They seemed to be attempting to distract themselves with small sensory feelings such as tapping their hands and feet against the bench they were seated on and the floor. Their restraints impeded this.

By 5 PM on the 2nd day, 9126 was openly talking to themselves and seemed to be disregarding our surveillance, likely having given up on keeping up a farce of silence. None of their words were of any consequence and seemed to be mostly personal nonsensical ramblings.

At 6 PM, Dr. Miller entered the containment room and spoke to 9126 about their situation, briefly mentioning the experimental nature of this arrangement. 9126 had previously been told this was standard practice, for the sake of ensuring compliance. They didn't seem to fully comprehend his words, as they were likely beginning to lose cognitive function due to sleep deprivation. Dr. Miller then left.

At 6:54 PM on the 2nd day, 9126 began falling asleep again. Delivery of electricity this time resulted in them jolting awake, similarly to their previous reaction. This time, it seemed more difficult for them to resist sleep afterwards, and we ended up needing to deliver a stronger shock, which kept them solidly awake for the next hour.

Intern #2531 entered and gave them food. When he attempted communication, they were unresponsive and seemed too dazed to speak with him.

The night of the 2nd day had many more close calls with falling asleep compared to the previous night. Regular shocks kept 9126 awake, and they did not end up fully falling asleep. Regular shocks continued for several hours until 5:38 AM when 9126 seemed to commit once again to staying awake.

Until 4:41 PM on the 3rd day, 9126 showed no signs of sleeping. By this time their core had been unmuted for several hours and there was absolutely no attempt to use it. They did nearly fall asleep at this time, but our electric shock jolted them back awake very effectively and they continued for several hours without any further attempts at sleep.

At 9:56 PM on the 3rd day, Anderson entered the room to speak with 9126. They showed no visible recognition of him and were completely unresponsive, giving him only a blank stare. As a test, he grabbed their arm, pressing hard into it. They made no move to pull away or hit back. Anderson then left.

Intermittent shocks seemed to keep 9126 fully alert. We eventually observed that their eyes had become unfocused. They no longer were holding themselves upright at all and had completely stopped talking or making any sensory movements for the past several hours.

They remained in the above state for the remaining hours of the experiment, until the end of hour 73 of the experiment, when their probation officers took over their custody.

Results:

Experiment seems to be a success. Even with the dreamwalkers core pre-muted for scientist safety before experiment, Dreamwalker 9126 showed no signs of magical core activation, no matter how strenuous the experiment got for them. In fact, we left their core unmuted for the entire third day, and we sensed absolutely no magical emission.

[fisherrprince]

writers block BEGONE wol eats fruit

Ch’ari is awoken to a muffled curse coming from what counts as Dragonhead’s kitchen. 

Well, “awoken” implies he was sleeping beforehand — which he was not. He was, instead, counting every grey fur the past weeks had given him, metaphorically, and sitting in bed counting the stones that make up the walls literally. Two hundred and thirty-odd, he’d lost count due to the “—! …swiving insect…!“ that interrupted him. 

There are only about three voices Ch’ari cares about hearing — the fourth optional voice being the Coerthan scout on Ul’dah’s front — and the string of curses came from the youngest one. Statistically the most likely between his companions, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Especially not at bloody 2:45 in the morning. 

Ch’ari rolls off the bed sideways, wincing as his paws touch the cold stone and shuffling into the slippers he’s fairly certain Haurchefant made himself for the outpost’s overnight visitors, and he makes his way in near-darkness and near-silence towards the kitchen. 

The kitchen itself is much like a dorm room; functional and simplistic and decorated here and there with furs and cloths and left-behind baubles to make the whole thing seem any measure more homey. Anything to ward off the biting cold nothingness of outside, measures for which Ch’ari is incredibly grateful. It makes his thoughts calm. Like how trees do for wind. 

He finds exactly — or almost exactly — what he thought to find in the little side room. Alphinaud stands at the counter wielding a small string of something, the lamp he brought to illuminate his workspace making him look almost comically gaunt. His tail is completely puffed out in shock, shivering as if he’s about to launch himself at the wall. With little ability to see in the dark, but good enough hearing that his copious blanket shuffling should have alerted him to his presence, Ch’ari somehow manages to sneak up on the kid.

“I didn’t think you were one to swear more’n once at a time,” Ch’ari says, as quiet as he can be to mute the echoes that plague Dragonhead in the silence. 

Alphinaud startles — again, if Ch’ari had to guess — and nearly knocks the lamplight off the counter turning to face him. “W- Master Tia! I didn’t mean to wake you!”

“You didn’t, I wasn’t asleep. What’s with the yelp?”

Alphinaud shakes himself and puts his composure back on as best he can. “I— I was merely fetching some of the provisions we were given, and that thing fell directly in front of me,” he huffs, gesturing forcefully (with a knife! He has some dried fruit on a cutting board. Ch’ari is struck with the sudden and very real possibility that Alphinaud does not know how to use a knife) at the wall. Ch’ari squints. A creature that looks a bit like an egg-sized grey yarzon is slowly creeping its way back up to the altogether too-tall ceiling. 

“Eugh. Do you want me to get it?”

There is a long moment where Alphinaud seriously considers the beast’s demise. He eventually looks away from it, his ears drooping. “No,” he sighs. “It was probably an accident. He didn’t mean to fall.” He fixes the lamp and the cutting board, thankfully putting the knife down as well. The mini yarzon continues its slow crawl up into the darkness. “Asides. Those creatures eat buzzard gnats, and I would much rather deal with the occasional fright if it means I do not have to deal with those pests.”

“What a lovely name for a bug,” Ch’ari grimaces. He carefully pads forward a few more inches and watches Alphinaud set the string of fruit (persimmon) back on the cutting board, a bit too hard and a bit too white-knuckled.

He pauses, looking up at Ch’ari’s lingering intrusion. “I am not in danger, or anything. Pray return to bed. I apologize for disturbing you.”

“Would you like me to cut it?” Ch’ari asks, completely ignoring him. 

“I am perfectly capable of cutting fruit.” 

“You are still shaking,” Ch’ari points out. He’s very aware every second word he says further bruises the boy’s pride when the thing has already been battered to shreds, but he’s not about to let some lordling cut himself holding a knife wrong when he clearly hasn’t slept and isn’t holding himself together. 

“I am — I’m just tired. And was not expecting the spider,” Alphinaud protests weakly. 

“You sit,” Ch’ari decides, snatching the fruit and untying the blasted things. “It doesn’t need to be cut anyways.”

Obediently — a new occurrence — Alphinaud turns to sit, and finding no chair, simply sits against the wall on a fur blanket. 

Ch’ari cuts the cold persimmon into pieces. He has a feeling that the lordling won’t take to ripping it apart with his teeth like an animal, like you’re supposed to do.

Probably two of them will do? He chances a look at Alphinaud, who looks like he’s about to become a part of the furs with his same-color cloak. He has darker circles than is strictly necessary, and a dangerous wobble in his eyes that bespeaks having too many other things on his mind at once. Mayhap three, then. 

Ch’ari slides down the wall next to him and offers him his handful of fruit. “Odd time in the morning to get a snack. Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” Alphinaud whispers. He takes a piece of fruit and stuffs it in his mouth, and rather un-lordly-like keeps talking around it. “I’ve not been able to. It isn’t that it’s cold or, or uncomfortable, I swear, House Fortemps’ hospitality is more than gracious.” The more he speaks, the more he works himself up. “I try and then I just — awaken! With an awful pit in my stomach, and I can’t help but think of — and, not knowing what happened to the Scions or to the Braves who were unaware, if— if any were, if they were all—“ 

His breath hitches. “Oh, Twelve forbid,” he whines, and buries his head completely in his knees. 

“Head up, you’ll dirty the coat, I think.”

Alphinaud’s head slowly pulls out of the fabric, resolutely facing away from him and hiding his face beneath his hair. “I cannot help but perpetuate these thoughts over and over. That it was mine own folly that ruined everything I naively tried to build. And I cannot help but feel-- feel as if, I don’t know. Not sleeping is perhaps punishment for the way I acted, and now they’re…” He breathes shakily, and Ch’ari can see a damp spot forming on his knees that he quickly hides with one hand. 

Ch’ari puts a slice of fruit on it. Alphinaud doesn’t turn to it, but accepts the slice and miserably puts it in his mouth.

“Now I’ve nothing to do but wait and think. I do not know what to make of it. And, and this,” he sniffles, quickly rubbing his face with the heel of his palm. “I know you don’t like me much, so why do you do such things for me now? Is it out of pity?”

Mildly offended, Ch’ari quickly remembers that at one point (out of misplaced frustration, he swears,) he did call the kid pompous and irritating and “a bratling’s role model”, so that’s probably why Alphinaud believes he still doesn’t care for him. He was irritating. But Ch’ari was irritating right back, and then worried and persistent to the point of projecting, so… He taps his claws, then eats another piece of fruit, then adjusts the way he’s sitting, then lets out a big overdramatic sigh. He throws his arms up. “Come here.”

Alphinaud instead makes himself a smaller ball and angles the tips of his ears away in displeasure. Ch’ari, having none of it, scoots directly next to him and drops his chin onto Alphinaud’s head and begins purring as loud as his raspy throat can manage it. 

“-You are vibrating,” Alphinaud says thickly, surprise overriding his distaste at being hugged sideways. 

“It’s purring. Do not call it vibrating.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Ask Azeyma. Now hush, I am to tell you a story. It’s important and also strictly not to be revealed to the public, got that?” Ch’ari feels Alphinaud nod under his chin. “Good. Eat more persimmon.”

Ch’ari gathers himself, adjusting his position so that the embrace is not so awkward. Alphinaud quietly lets himself be moved, having wholly given up on being embarrassed. He simply nibbles on the fruit, sniffing occasionally. 

“When I was much younger,” Ch’ari starts, hesitantly, “my mother called me her little prince. I do not think she called me this full knowing how I would take it to heart.”

He pauses. “To make a long and rather grating story short, I realize now that I was set up to fail. Not to absolve myself of responsibility, but I… was sheltered. I guess.” He shakes his head, interrupting his purr before plopping right back down. “I was the only male kitten in our tribe. My first nunh loved me enough to spoil me, and I liked him well enough. He made me think I was king, and none of them stopped him. My second thought me to be a threat, and it was then that I was old enough to hate back.

“It was also then that we were old enough to bully each other, as kittens. I’m sure it’s not surprising that no one liked being bossed around much. By a child, no less, while they were already being ordered to tasks with no relief. So my orders were suddenly ignored, while his were obeyed. I saw him. I saw what the family thought of him. No one liked him, but they respected him. And so I, a shirked prince, tried to copy his behavior. 

“The more I vied for attention, the worse it got. And the worse it got, the more I hated. My intentions were not good, not like yours. I wanted respect, and power, and to be the most important, most competent hunter anyone knew, and I wanted this all without working a day for it,” Ch’ari growls. “I wanted love, and I reached for it through arrogance.”

“To be loved is not an ignoble intention to have,” Alphinaud mumbles, still nibbling on persimmon. 

“Kind of you to say, but I believe it was less to be loved and more to be lauded. Or maybe I wasn’t sure at the time what love felt like. Ch’leure — my nunh, Goddess let him burn — I doubt he knew either, and I doubt he’ll ever know, no matter how much he takes advantage of his filched status. 

“Is the purring helping?” Ch’ari interrupts. 

“W— What is it supposed to be doing?”

“I’m unsure. I’ve heard it’s relaxing.”

“It’s.. rumbling, for certain.” Alphinaud has sort of un-balled himself, so Ch’ari counts that as it’s helping. 

“Anyroad. I was ‘encouraged’ to leave the tribe at fourteen. I wouldn’t have stayed longer even if I weren’t threatened by nearly every girl my age, to be honest with you. I was determined to find somewhere I would be respected. So obviously I took to scammers and piracy,” Ch’ari snorts. “The most respected of professions. But I was coveted there! I was small and novel, and great at pinching pockets, and very easy to control by my ego. As long as I followed the leader, I would be welcome, and it was closer to princedom than I ever was before.”

He nabs one of the last persimmon slices and pops it in his mouth, thinking. “I don’t remember too much of why it happened. But one of the companies I was with hatched a plot to plunder hundreds of thousands of Gil, and all we needed to do was murder some four Dunesfolk merchants. I had slain innocent men before. I’m not sure what compelled me to stop. But I couldn’t do it.”

Ch’ari can feel his tail twitching in distress behind him, without his consent. He puts a hand over it. The Scions know -- knew, in the past-present sense, of his track record. He’s certain Alphinaud was either informed or investigated, but killing does tend to put most sensible people off, and he’s taken care not to mention it much. 

“I don’t know. I probably thought that maybe if I spoke up the company would see my reasoning, would apply the faux respect they had for my skills to my character. But, no, I was a disposable seventeen-year-old who ruined their plot and deprived them of their coffers, and I learned that pirates don’t forgive so much as they beat what irks them to the ground.” Ch’ari clears his already-tired throat. “S’where this happened,” he says. “Believe it or not, I used to be a bit of a singer. Not a good one, but I could carry a tune well enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Alphinaud speaks up. He sounds unsure, but genuine, and Ch’ari ends up purring harder. 

“Wouldn’t trade it back. In any case, I hear Nanali — I didn’t introduce her earlier, I should have — Nanali Nali, a completely unrelated lalafell nearby at the time, thank the Twelve. I hear Nanali scared them all off herself on account of yelling real loud and firing a years-old magitek gun into the air. Not sure if I believe her, she’s strong, but not intimidating enough to scare off that many pirates. I also hear she dragged my sorry corpse back to her house on her own, but I don’t believe that either. Dudunobe says he helped, he loves to take credit where there isn’t any.”

“They are…?”

“Farmers. Out past the deserts of Thanalan where you can actually grow something. S’also where you can kill a half-grown cat without being seen by the Brass Blades. Not if Nanali has something to say about it, though, she’s a real nosy piece of work. And Duno’s her closest neighbor, he has a right loud laugh and won’t even let me look at his sheep sideways. He thinks I’ll chase ‘em, and I did once just to piss him off. Rough folks. Very blunt.”

Alphinaud considers his fingers very carefully. The fruit is gone, which leaves his hands to fiddle with themselves. “They sound very dear to you.”

“Aye. I'm certain I wouldn’t be alive without them.”

“… Why tell me this?”

“Because,” Ch’ari hums, feeling his purrs slow to a crawl. “The next few months were miserable. Everything I had thought about the world was wrong in a way that made me culpable, and the avenues through which I thought I had control were naught but fabrications to placate me. Nanali did not treat me like a prince, nor did she treat me like a wet rat, she treated me like the hurt, wretched child I was. And in return, I yelled at her to leave me alone. She was too stubborn to let me be, though, and while I was having a crisis in her home she just kept giving me food. And bed. And kindness, cloaked in anger to get it through my skull before I was able to see it for what it was. Imagine my horror when I realized what was happening,” Ch’ari snorts. “She watched me fall apart, and then helped put the pieces back in the right order just because she wanted to. You know I nearly cried myself to sleep when I got an inn for the first time? Momodi paid for me, because I helped her with the most menial task in the world.” He lets go of his tail, and leans back against the wall, his ears trembling. Alphinaud remains very stiff, attentive but carefully unmoving. 

“It’s not that I pity you. It’s that I don’t think I could bear going through those months again. It is different, yes, but Nanali is malms away, and we could not visit her besides. Tataru, I do not think, has ever experienced such betrayal, and I hope she never does. …And I think Lord Haurchefant is rather too sunshiney at all hours of the day,” Ch’ari muses. Alphinaud huffs a little laugh. 

“He is very enthusiastic.”

“And a morning person,” Ch’ari groans. “I know I’m a sun seeker, but I seek the sun when it has risen, not before it has. It’s East, it’s always East.”

Another half-laugh. Alphinaud smiles rather awkwardly, with his eyes first and then about three-fourths of his mouth, but at least it’s not a put-upon face in his presence.

“I am… new at being kind,” Ch’ari admits, looking back at the elezen. “And I am an old hand at learning things the hard way. But as much as I can prevent it, I would have you less of a horrible mess than I was. Which means cutting dried persimmons at balls in the morning, sure.” 

“...Oh,” Alphinaud says, and turns away again, conspicuously rubbing his nose on his knees in lieu of having a handkerchief. “Thank you.”

“It’ll never be a problem.” That sentence broke him when he heard it first. Alphinaud seems to be attempting to regain his posture, failing twice before shaking his head and whiskers. 

“Now. As I’m sure Lord Haurchefant will be awake and cheerful soon,” -- Alphinaud snorts -- “we should attempt to catch some sleep. Without waking Tataru, I should hope.”

[iviarellereads]

All Systems Red, Chapter 1

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which we meet our new best friend.

(As a preface: the story is once again in past tense, but this time, first-person. "I was". My summaries will continue to be in third-person present tense because that's how my brain works, but quotes will be verbatim.)

I could have become a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours(1) or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don’t know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed.(2) As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure.

Murderbot is doing its job on a new contract, hoping the two scientists, Dr. Volescu and Dr. Bharadwaj, finish soon so it can go watch episode 397 of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.(3) It's distracted, and kind of bored, and considers trying to figure out how to backdoor the system to listen to music without notifying the HubSystem(4) as the scientists take samples from one of the many craters on the coast.

Only, then the crater explodes.

MB doesn't call for help in the way we'd understand. It sends its visual feed directly to Dr. Mensah,(5) and scrambles down into the crater to help as it hears Mensah on the emergency comm channel calling for the others to get moving to help as well.

MB gets a bunch of conflicting commands, but knowing the emergency takes priority anyway, it ignores them and all the data it doesn't need. At the bottom of the crater, it skips the small weapons built into its arms, and gets out the projectile weapon on its back. The hostile creature is more than big enough to justify it.

MB gets Bharadwaj out of the creature's mouth, and shoves the gun down its throat, then shoots where it hopes the brain might be. The creature disappears back down its tunnel, leaving Bharadwaj in MB's care. It puts the gun away, and since its base mechanical structure is still functioning even with a bit of lost flesh and armour, it lifts her, raises its body heat to help her stay warm, and thinks about how to get out of the crater.

It sees Volescu huddled to the side, terrified, and it starts talking to him, calmly. It can't touch him to move him or drag him, because it needs to keep Bharadwaj from bleeding out, but it makes its voice firm but warm and starts gently needling Volescu to get up and come out of the crater with it and Bharadwaj. Volescu stands and staggers over, and MB tells him to hold onto its arm as they get out.

By now, Mensah has managed to mute most of the alerts and notifications and data requests, so MB only has to focus on the MedSystem feed. It gets the humans out of the crater, and coaxes Volescu a few further meters before he collapses, just in case the thing can come out further. It can feel that something in its torso is damaged, and runs its visual feed back to find that it was stabbed with some sort of tooth-like thing it can't begin to identify, because they don't educate murderbots in anything but murder.

The hopper with everyone else on the team lands, and MB turns its helmet opaque so they won't see it, then says on the comm that it can't put Bharadwaj down because of the damage. Mensah tells it to bring her into the crew cabin, following the procedures that would be required if it had a working governor module.(6)

I carried Bharadwaj up the ramp into the cabin, where Overse and Ratthi were frantically unclipping seats to make room. They had their helmets off and their suit hoods pulled back, so I got to see their horrified expressions when they took in what was left of my upper body through my torn suit. I was glad I had sealed my helmet. This is why I actually like riding with the cargo. Humans and augmented humans in close quarters with murderbots is too awkward. At least, it’s awkward for this murderbot.

MB sits on the floor, bracing Bharadwaj, as the other crew bring Volescu inside. One of them, Dr. Ratthi, offers to go get the cases of equipment left behind, and MB makes a small mistake: it yells "No!" because that's accidental suicide by monster, when it should never talk-back at the clients. Fortunately, it's hidden in the cries of "No!" from everyone else on the hopper, with Pin-Lee adding, "For fuck's sake, Ratthi!"

Ratthi, for his part, remembers that they have bigger priorities with Bharadwaj's injuries, and closes the hatch so they can take off immediately.

The hopper is still close enough to see on the cameras when another hostile, or the same one, comes up right under where it sat moments before. Mensah speeds up the vertical, and everyone ends up on the floor. Pin-Lee starts telling off Ratthi for lack of self-preservation, and Ratthi finishes the argument with a sense of it being a familiar one. Mensah also tells Ratthi that it's an order to not get himself killed. MB notes that she sounds calm, but it can see on the MedSystem that her heart is racing.(7)

Arada pulled out the emergency medical kit so they could stop the bleeding and try to stabilize Bharadwaj. I tried to be as much like an appliance as possible,(8) clamping the wounds where they told me to, using my failing body temperature to try to keep her warm, and keeping my head down so I couldn’t see them staring at me. *** PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 60% AND DROPPING(9)

They make it back to the central habitat, which looks a lot less safe now that MB knows there are tunneling hostiles. Dr. Gurathin has a gurney ready, so MB can put Bharadwaj down at last. Following the humans inside, it also increases security with drone patrols and higher sensitivity on the seismic monitors, locking down the habitat so no one can leave without it.

The habitat secured, MB goes to the "security ready room" where all the supplies related to security are stored, including MB. It takes off its armour, sprays wound sealant on at MedSystem's suggestion despite that it's able to close its blood vessels automatically, and sets itself to off-duty.

It can't put on its spare armour, or even the base uniform, so it gets a survival blanket from a first aid kit and gets into its cubicle to start the repair and resupply process, as it reaches 58% function.

It's just queued up some media, not to focus on, but just to keep it company, when there's a knock on the door. Confused, it says, "Uh, yes?" Mensah enters.

She said, “Are you all right? I saw your status report.” “Uh.” That was the point where I realized that I should have just not answered and pretended to be in stasis. I pulled the blanket around my chest, hoping she hadn’t seen any of the missing chunks. Without the armor holding me together, it was much worse. “Fine.” So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous. Also, if I’m not in the armor then it’s because I’m wounded and one of my organic parts may fall off and plop on the floor at any moment and no one wants to see that.

Mensah is concerned because the report said MB lost 20% of its body mass, but MB assures her it can regrow. Mensah seems to accept this, but hesitates to leave, and tells MB it was very good with Volescu, at the attack site. MB says it's standard emergency instructions, but Mensah says she knows MedSystem was prioritizing Bharadwaj's injuries, and expected Volescu to be able to leave under his own power: it didn't account for the shock.

MB, tapped into the cameras in the main room, can see that the others are reviewing Volescu's camera feed and discussing MB, saying things like they didn't know it had a face. It knows it's stayed in its armour since arrival, mostly to maintain a distance from them. They're just contract clients, they won't be permanent, and as much as it hates people-ing, it would be pointless to interact unnecessarily.

To Mensah, MB says it's part of its job to account for the System making occasional mistakes. It thinks she should know that, it's part of the package, and why a SecUnit with its organic components(10) is a non-negotiable part of company deals. It knows she logged about ten protests, trying to get out of having a SecUnit at all.

I didn’t hold it against her. I wouldn’t have wanted me either.(11) Seriously, I don’t know why I didn’t just say you’re welcome and please get out of my cubicle so I can sit here and leak in peace.

Mensah looks at MB for objectively 2.4 seconds, subjectively twenty horrible minutes. She tells it to let her know in the feed if it needs anything sooner than its scheduled 8 hour restoration cycle, then leaves.

MB wonders why she made such a big deal of the rescue, and replays its own recording of the incident. It realizes it was talking to Volescu all the way up the crater incline, asking him if he has kids and that sort of thing.(12) It hadn't even been listening to itself at the time, more focused on Bharadwaj and the hopper's trajectory. It wonders if it's been watching too much human media. In an aside it clarifies that Volescu does have seven children with his partners in a four-way marriage back home.

All my levels were too elevated now for a rest period, so I decided I might as well get some use out of it and look at the other recordings. Then I found something weird. There was an “abort” order in the HubSystem command feed, the one that controlled, or currently believed it controlled, my governor module.(13) It had to be a glitch. It didn’t matter, because when MedSystem has priority— PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 39% STASIS INITIATED FOR EMERGENCY REPAIR SEQUENCE

=====

(1) Just shy of 4 years, if people are measuring time the same way whenever and wherever this is set. (2) A bot after my own heart, spending as much of its time taking in media as physically possible without giving itself away by not following an order. (3) This is a show Murderbot mentions a lot. What do we think it's about, just off the top here, based on the name and the duration alone? (4) A lot of the words in this series are gonna be kinda self-explanatory. I left "governor module" alone because, in context, it makes its own sense, a module that's supposed to override anything a construct might theoretically think about doing outside mission parameters and company rules, and punish any that happen because of organic parts being unpredictable. (Oh no, I snuck in a bonus definition.) HubSystem is, similarly, the networked system that serves as a hub for everything attached to the mission, to communicate back to the company. (5) Clearly, some sort of leader or organizer, from context. (6) MB knows its rules and regs, if only to follow them with malicious minimum compliance. (7) Do we think MB hacked MedSystem, to see information it might not otherwise have access to, or is it typical for a security unit to potentially need to monitor the biofunctions of the clients it's tasked to defend? (8) MB deliberately tucking itself into its expected role, because as we see later this chapter, it's not particularly worried about its governor module being found out, it just… doesn't enjoy people. (9) A recurring status update throughout MB's point of view. Its performance reliability, its literal ability to do its job, will go up and down based on its current condition, just like any person's. I wonder if it's possible to function at 100%. I think organic bits get in the way of that by literal nature. (10) Organic components, like a human brain, which is still superior to any algorithmic training they can come up with, which will still recognize certain flaws that you can't train out of pure machines. (11) Noooo, my heart, not in the first chapter! How dare! (12) It may not like humans, but it understands how to deal with them, at least in times of stress. Maybe it's "too much media" but it's also just... a person. I'm exactly the same sort of person, I do not recharge in the presence of other people in my meatspace on any level, but I'm very good at masking and doing what needs done, whether that's politeness and asking about the weather or playing along with deeper conversation. (No need to wonder why I love these books so much. No need for me to examine why I relate so hard to a literal robot.) (13) How suspicious... but surely it can't mean anything. Surely.

[brightlotusmoon]

Found this in my files. SAINW AU. Mikey disappears. Older Raph builds a cat sanctuary and learns field medicine. Older Donnie is depressed and self medicated and watches Babylon 5 and Phineas And Ferb before bed on the ancient hard drive. Older Leo wanders around like a sad guard dog, writes poetry, is den mother, learns very specific cooking.

Prosthetic limbs function perfectly because Donatello perfects them because he needs to be perfect so he can find his long missing brother who is trapped in another dimension.

Faded Orange

……

The day Michelangelo disappeared, Raphael yelled at Klunk for sleeping on his set of weights.

It reminded Mikey to go to that one bodega, the one where the employees literally don't care that they're mutant turtles, where Mike actually made a friend and new comic supplier in one of the cashiers: a young guy who works all night and always smiles, breaking out in a dance after some transactions, who adopts stray cats keeps the ones he can't rehome so now he and his husband own five two gray brown and two orange tabbies that somehow all get along.

Who found Klunk after he ran away last month and gave Mikey free canned food, litter, and medicine, because he sensed Mikey was different in several ways, and he always paid in crumpled damp small bills and coins, and the times it was a note bigger than a twenty it was impossible for Mikey to hide the excitement and pride, and his cashier friend saw so much. He knew Mrs Morrison, for example, and he studied kickboxing and tang soo do, which got Raph visiting. Which alerted Don and Leo. Who received, respectively, a refurbished tablet of the latest high end model and a large bottle of sword cleaning oil.

They tried not to question. He quietly gave them discounts on everything. He chirped with delight when Michelangelo called to say he was coming over for cat supplies. He went to the back and got the newest issue of the comic they had both been desperately waiting for, the issue introducing a character Mikey had hoped for so much that one day Raph came into the bodega and grumbled that Mikey wouldn't shut up about the character and it was annoying, and so the bodega employee became something of a counselor, because he had the same kind of mind that Mikey had and the same passion Raph had, and he understood both of them.

His bodega was a powerful liminal space, Mikey had said once, which surprised Donnie, who didn't know that Mikey understood liminal spaces. Mike, looking a little insulted, had said that contemporary comic books had become just as strong and heavy in how it applied words academically with just as good terminology, linguistics, and descriptions as any popular novel.

Plus, the beautiful sequential art, the colorful pictures created by talented visual artists just as valuable as the writers, enhanced the exposition in ways faaancy novels didn't. Which had made Raph's jaw drop and Leo's head tilt. Donnie, with a huge grin and a shining expression, demanded a fist bump and asked if he had seen a graphic novel version of a popular chemist's work.

The bodega employee waited twenty minutes after Michelangelo was supposed to show up, and then he called Raph.

Raphael went out to the living room and frowned at his brothers, who muted their movie and looked at him with concern.

"Keno called me. Mikey's missing. He didn't show. Keno says there was no evidence Mike was around the bodega."

Their friend was never wrong.

They geared up to go on patrol. The search might take a while.

……

His bodega was a powerful liminal space, Mikey had said once, which surprised Donnie, who didn't know that Mikey understood liminal spaces. Mike, looking a little insulted, had said that contemporary comic books had become just as strong and heavy in how it applied words academically with just as good terminology, linguistics, and descriptions as any popular novel. Plus, the beautiful sequential art, the colorful pictures created by talented visual artists just as valuable as the writers, enhanced the exposition in ways faaancy novels didn't. Which had made Raph's jaw drop and Leo's head tilt. Donnie, with a huge grin and a shining expression, demanded a fist bump and asked if he had seen a graphic novel version of a popular chemist's work.

The bodega employee waited twenty minutes after Michelangelo was supposed to show up, and then he called Raph.

Raphael went out to the living room and frowned at his brothers, who muted their movie and looked at him with concern.

"Keno called me. Mikey's missing. He didn't show. Keno says there was no evidence Mike was around the bodega."

Their friend was never wrong.

They geared up to go on patrol. The search might take a while.

……

Watching the young Mikey But Not Mikey vanish through that bizarre fizzling electromagnetic force field ripped through the air was absolutely not one of the weirdest things Raphael has seen in this long miserable life.

But it was one of the saddest.

One of them.

The look Young Mikey gave them all right before, the I love you in his eyes and his smile, in the nervous lift of his hand, had been obvious even to Leonardo's poor vision, and at least the man had taken off those damned Matrix sunglasses for the farewell. At least they saw his clouded eyes and Raphael could finally forgive the agony that had replaced the arrogance.

Even bitter, paranoid Donatello, hollow cyborg somehow emotionally revived by an alternate version of his beloved baby brother, had tears streaming down his face.

It was heartwrenching, is what Raphael is trying to say.

But fuck if he didn't feel so many beautiful emotions that were damaged twenty years ago.

Mikey will go home.

And soon, his Mikey, their Mikey, will be coming home to him.

Sorry. Them.

He has a Them for the first time in fucking ages. Leo and Don are right beside him.

It's almost like they never separated.

He supposes that is the whole point.

One of the kittens he brought to the base is rubbing against his leg and he purrs back at it.

-

Donatello is so anxious it's becoming a low level terror.

Raphael can feel it.

Donnie's hands shake as he operates the portal controls. The technology they haven't been able to use during the reign of The Shredder is dusty and intimidating but stuff like that never seemed to bother the family scientist, so why now?

Raph wants to kick himself. Mikey, of course. Not just that precious sweet sunshine boy that had come to them from out of time but his Mike, their Mike...

Leonardo is sucking in a breath as the portal finally opens, it's white and spiraling and Donnie is saying something but Raph can't hear it over the blood rushing through his head.

It happens within three seconds.

Donnie leaps to crouch right at the portal arms out, the light glinting off his prosthetic left arm and leg.

Something bursts through, a figure, a form, a familiar shape that looks like his heart-

Donnie wraps his arms around the collapsing form, to the floor, now cradling and... screaming?

Raph blinks.

Mikey is covered in scars and blood and black ichor and he's convulsing, and April is barking out orders and suddenly there's medics with a gurney...

And all Raphael can do is stand there and tremble.

Michelangelo is home. His baby brother is home-

Raph doesn't realize he's crying until he's wrapped in Leo's arms, his brother trembling.

Raph squeezes his eyes shut, presses his beak to his big brother's shoulder, and thanks the spirit of Klunk that Mikey is home.

-

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

what type(s) of clothes do you think psychic likes to wear, other than the set seen in his mod?

hehehe. ty for the ask :> some specific ones:

LONG JACKETS!!! he is a big fan of the Aesthetic it's unmatched

high collared shirts. he's a very sophisticated lad

turtlenecks in fall/winter :o not that he needs them but they look good and it's the perfect time of year

heels, on occasion. make himself even Taller than he already is lol

clicky shoes!!! fun to walk around with them and Alert others to your presence

for functions, etc. a suit :]

blazers on their own!! very fancy

belts

ties, sometimes. if he has to

he prefers long sleeves. never anything revealing. he's extremely quiet and reclusive and his dress style tends to reflect that

however he's also very expensive and his dress style reflects that as well lmao. High-end brands, pure leather or wool, etc.

He likes wearing more muted, dark or pale, neutral/cool colors. Blues, blacks, greys, etc.

I feel like in general he goes for outfits with a very serious, refined look. That's the image he's put out into the world and it's what he feels complements the Dearests' look the best.

on his off days you'll find him wearing a bright magenta jacket that is definitely not a hoodie no sirree nope

no he's not drinking tea from a mug. no it does not say "employee of the year" what are you talking about

no those fifty mugs in that cabinet aren't identical to this one. stop looking reeeee

[chattercap]

Monthly Update: January 2024

Hello everyone, it's Chattercap! Happy 2024! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

Sorry for the belated update, but...I was a little worn out after the New Year, I won't lie!

Gosh, where do I even begin when starting to talk about what I did in December...it was pretty hectic, to say the least. Luckily, I managed to complete the demo of The Deepwater Witch, and it's available now on itch! I also plan on releasing it on Steam in the future.

Now, as for what I needed to do to release that demo...

HURDLE ONE: FINISHING THE SCRIPT

The first thing that I had to do to release The Deepwater Witch was...finish the script? I had completed the first draft, but after receiving beta reader feedback, I found that there were additions that needed to be made. In the first few days of December, I wrote 4500 words, bringing the total of the script to 52k. After receiving additional edits, the script was finalized by December 15th.

HURDLE TWO: DOING THE ART

Heading into the second week of December, I only had a bit of art done. After completing the script, I had revisited the storyboards and basically made entirely new drafts of what art needed to be completed. At that point, I only had sprites and a couple of CG sketches.

From the beginning of December until the 20th, I worked almost exclusively on art, doing 24 backgrounds, 5 CGs, and an additional sprite during that timeframe. It was BUSY, but it was well worth it! I'm happy with how all of the assets turned out.

HURDLE THREE: ...EVERYTHING ELSE???

Heading into the last week of December, I was faced with the daunting task of...doing everything else. Up until this point, I was cool as a cucumber, but I started to panic a LITTLE here.

If you've been following my development up until this point, you'll know that I made the switch from Unity to Godot a couple of months ago. I had done...about 50% of the work that was needed on the engine before pausing to finish TDW's script. So not only did I have to implement core features (things as simple as saving and loading), but I also had to make sure I added polish - a nice looking GUI, animations, and the general polish that I want people to be able to expect from my games.

Here is a non-existent list of what I did from the 22nd of December onward:

BGM/SFX/VA functionality

Mute function

Flexible 2D animation controls

CG management (+ idles, animations)

Sprite management (+ idles, animations, positioning)

Dynamic dialogue layouts

Expression popups.

Credits screen.

Screen shake.

Story flags.

GUI functionality (page toggles, buttons, etc.)

Designed and implemented all GUI.

Save/Load.

Save screenshot function.

Chose and implemented BGM and SFX.

Annotated the script with BGM, SFX, story flag, sprite, CG, expression, and background tags.

Playtesting.

WHAT'S NEXT?

The next thing that you can expect from me is an updated version of MacOS version of The Deepwater Witch. I understand that there are some security issues with the current build (as Apple is very strict when it comes to unauthorized applications), and so I've decided to pay for an Apple Developer License. My application was already processed and approved, so I should be releasing that version in the next few days. You will still receive a pop-up notification alerting you that TDW is not from the App Store, but hopefully it lets you open it without any further hassle.

After that, I plan to release the full version of The Deepwater Witch. Almost everything is done besides some coding and art, and I expect to release it around late January/early February. Following that, I have two projects that I have planned for early spring!

For additional details, see the 2024 Project Roadmap.

I wish you all a good 2024!

Until next time,

Chattercap

[wonderland-journals]

one day... ☆

🔞🔞**CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP 21+**🔞🔞

★ pairing: Toru Oikawa & f!reader ★ word count: 3.4K

★ cw/tw: single parent reader, PTSD flashbacks, Toru is a great friend, negative self-talk, depictions of DV, threats

**This fic is not intended for immature audiences and does contain dark content. You must be 18 or older and mentally mature to enjoy. Don’t like it, don’t read it. The author is not responsible for your sense of comfort and your preferences.**

This story is based on real-life events.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was that the familiar ache in your bones was back, and that had you burying your face into your pillow as you let out a low groan. The sharp stab between the shoulder blades dragged itself down your spine like the scratch of a sharpened knife over the skin. It was pressing just hard enough to feel the sting but never hard enough to draw blood. You didn't want to move because that would only spread the pain. Just like it did every morning for far longer than she would like to admit. After a few minutes, you slowly pushed your upper body up, wincing at your back's popping sound when it arched inwards. Without even looking at the clock, you knew what time it was.

Too damn early.

Too damn early for the radio to play whatever pop hit was topping the charts right now. Too damn early for this weight to begin settling in the center of your back until it was almost uncomfortable to breathe. Too damn early for little footsteps to be running down the hall in her direction.

"Five more minutes…." You whispered to the darkness of your room as you dropped back down on the bed and buried your face into your pillow again. "Five more minutes, and I'll get up. I’ll be a normal, functioning member of society. I promise."

The pattering of tiny feet stopped just before your door, and you held your breath. One second, two seconds, three. By some stroke of luck, your muffled request to no one was answered, and you could hear the squeal of delight from the other side as the footsteps suddenly retreated, and you couldn’t help but exhale softly. The song from your radio speaker shifted to a slow tune of low notes and muted vocals. While the lyrics were incomprehensible, their key had a twinge of sadness that touched on an emotion you would have preferred to keep buried deep.

You couldn't afford to lay there and cry; there was too much to do. The regular reminders alert went off on your phone as if on cue. The screen flashes in your peripheral with the notification of your extensive to-do list.

'It never ends… I don’t have time to cry.' You told yourself when the weight on your chest became heavier. Even as it became suddenly harder to breathe, you pushed yourself back up until you sat back on your calves in the center of your bed.

'It's time to get up~' The small voice in your mind whispered. Shaking your head, you turned around so that you were sitting on your butt. Facing the door that seemed further away now than it was. 'Don’t disappoint me now…'

"Shut up." You hissed under your breath, bringing your hands up to cover your ears as if that could quiet the echoing laughter in your mind.

'Everyone’s laughing at you, you know?'

“Shut up…”

‘Stupid, pathetic little girl who can’t even bring herself to get out of bed…’

“Stop it…”

‘You’re haunted…’

A cold breath sent chills down your spine, followed by the phantom touch of a finger tracing over your forearm. It was too damn early for this, too early for the monsters in your mind to be taunting you like this, paralyzing you in place.

“Mommy!”

You needed to get out there.

“Mommy, wake up!”

You open your mouth to respond to the tiny voice, but nothing comes out. Your words were stolen from you by the mangled hand that crawled up your chest until it could wrap its fingers around your neck, slowly tightening its grip until you could no longer breathe.

‘Useless!’

‘Leave me alone!’ You wanted to scream back.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the shadows in the corner of your room morphing into a thing of nightmares. Your nightmares. It had no eyes, mouth, or natural shape that could be explained. Somehow, though, you knew when it moved to stand. Even without feet, you could hear the footsteps on the hardwood floor.

The hand wrapped around your neck slowly released, and you took a moment to gulp in a deep breath before turning your head to look at the shadow creature. “Just leave me alone…” You whimpered in a small voice, slowly bringing your knees up to your chest. It didn’t speak, but its unsettling hiss sounded in your mind in response instead. “Please…”

One arm hugged your knees closer to your chest while the other raked your nails through your hair, tugging at the roots at the crown of your head while you lower your face. You just wanted to hide. Wanted to scream. Wanted to do something besides sit there pleading for help like some defenseless damsel in distress.

‘Why even bother?’ Its voice was a low rasp now. Each word scratches across your brain like nails on a chalkboard. ‘All you do is fail. You disappoint everyone . Just like he said~’

“No…” Your voice cracked on the single syllable. “You’re wrong… He’s wrong.”

‘Am I, though?’

You gasped as the voice shifted. Its pitch became one that you had prayed to every god you could think of never to hear again.

‘Useless fucking whore. Can’t even get out of bed to do your basic duties as a mother.’

“Go away.”

The radio still played on in the background, and you tried to focus on that, but it was muffled, muted as if it were being played underwater. You let go of your knees to cover your ears with your hands, shutting your eyes tight. A steady beat from the radio matched the rhythm of your heart.

“He’s not here. I’m safe. He’s not here. I’m safe.” You repeated the words over and over again because maybe one day you would finally believe it if you said them enough times.

“You’re just a voice in my head.” Your voice was hoarse, broken. Mouth dry as you spoke. “You’re not here.”

A dull ache was building in the back of your skull, and the hand that had previously been around your throat trailed its fingers up the side of your leg.

He would not be ignored.

‘You’re right. I guess you can’t blame it on me now, right?’ His raucous laughter was like a punch in the gut. Awakening phantom pains across your skin as flashes of your worst days played through your mind like a horror film. ‘I’m not even there.’

The pounding of your heart against your rib cage made you flinch from the intensity. All you could do was wish for some momentary solace to bring you out of this as the room around you distorted and slowly shifted into your old bedroom – the colors dulled and lifeless, save the bright light that shone under the closed door. Looking around, it was just as you left it all those months ago. The sheets tossed haphazardly on the queen-sized bed, barely concealing the teddy bear you had gotten from a county fair. A soft ringing came from the exit's direction, and you moved to step toward it, but you let out a sharp hiss as pain radiated up your leg from whatever you had stepped on.

Looking down, you saw the familiar shards of glass from a plate that looked like it had been thrown to the ground in a rage. All around you were signs of the abuse you had endured: holes punched in the wall, a shattered window, and the shattered pieces of an old phone. You shut your eyes tight, and when you opened them again after a few seconds, you were back in your room. Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, the room shifted again. Flashing between your old room and your current one, you had to stifle a sob that threatened to escape you as you moved backward on the bed until your back hit the cool surface of your wooden headboard.

‘You can’t escape me…’

He wasn’t here, but you could hear the heavy footsteps making their way closer to you. Smell the smoke from his breath, rancid and suffocating as it blew across your face. Large, calloused fingers were wrapping around your smaller wrist in a warning. His hand slammed against the surface next to your head, causing you to jolt as he laughed at you.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in your room. This was all in your mind, but that didn’t make it feel any less real.

‘You can’t get rid of me that easy.’

“You’re not here.”

Even as you shut your eyes tight again, you could see him leaning into you and feel his chapped lips at the shell of your ear.

‘I won’t let you.’ He whispered, a teasing lilt to his words.

“You’re not here!” Your yell was muffled by your knees that you pulled close to you again. The tears flowed freely down your cheeks, dripping onto the crease of your elbows. The bite of your fingernails as they dug into your palms was the only thing keeping you somewhat centered.

Even still…

It didn’t stop you from seeing him pull back and look down at you in anger; his lips curled back in a snarl with his eyebrows furrowed together. He was spewing threats that spun round and around in your mind like a track stuck on a loop. He pulled your hair up to force you to look at him before releasing it, and you could feel the pulsing vein in his forehead when he pressed it against your own after jerking his head as if to headbutt you.

‘Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!’

A beat of silence passed, and his face contorted in rage when he realized you wouldn’t respond. You turned your head to the side to avoid his eyes, but his hand came up to pinch your cheeks between his fingers – a slow wave of pain traveled down your spine as his fingers pressed into your jaw – and turned it back to look at him. The dull ache in your head grew worse as he pulled back a couple of inches and knocked his forehead against yours when you still wouldn’t answer him.

Two- three- four times.

‘You better look at me when I talk to you, bitch! I’ll knock your damn teeth down your throat if you ever raise your voice to me again!’

An apology bubbled on your tongue when he released your face, only for him to press his forearm into your neck - slowly applying more and more pressure to prevent you from getting the words out while yelling at you for not saying a word.

‘I could kill you, you know?’

You shut your eyes again and pleaded silently for him to disappear when you opened your eyes again, but when your eyes fluttered open, it wasn’t your room you saw; it was the cold blackness of his eyes showing you what hell looked like. No longer could you hear the radio in the background as it seemed to fade away rapidly in the seemingly far distance. The edges of your vision faded to black as fear clawed at your chest, and all you could do was silently scream into the void where no one could hear it.

‘You’ll never leave me.’

‘Help me…’

“Mommy!”

Then it all stopped. The echoes of his voice faded away like a distant memory, and you inhaled deeply. You no longer felt like you were drowning or choking. The pressure on your neck disappeared as quickly as it came, and your lungs burned with the rush of oxygen you breathed in while you wiped the remnants of your tears from your face.

Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe in.

‘Useless.’

Breathe out.

‘Pathetic!’

The sound of the door creaked open, and you could feel your mask come on. The forced smile that stretched across your face almost as if it had been there the whole time when you saw your best friend leaning against the doorway with your child sitting happily on his hip. His innocent smile brought you relief from the storm in your mind. Oikawa carefully set your child down on the ground and watched him run to you, and you immediately reached your arms out to hug him close. Taking in the faint smell of the peppermint lotion he liked to use in the morning and relishing in the comfort of his arms wrapping around your neck to hug you close.

“Good morning, mama.”

‘You don’t deserve him….’

You nod and hug him tight to you. “Morning baby…”

‘He’d be better off without you…’

Looking down at him, you wanted to commit that bright, innocent smile to memory. Let it continue to brighten the darkest corners of your mind that these nightmares of your past have tainted. This child, your child, was so innocent, so… happy. Some days you thought it was a miracle how he came out unscathed from everything you went through with his father. Then again, most days, you try not to think about it and just do what you can to preserve that smile.

“Your radio is loud, mama.” He pointed to the radio that was still on – playing some poppy tune that wasn’t on earlier – before patting your shoulder as if to get your attention when you didn’t immediately look at what he was pointing to.

“Sorry about that.” You never took your eyes off him as you reached over to the nightstand and turned off the music. “Better?”

He nodded and jumped off your bed before running out the door, giggling. As his footsteps faded away, the smile you had gradually slipped away, uncaring about the man in your doorway. As if he hadn’t seen your mask slip away before. Turning your head to look at the clock on your nightstand, the numbers flashed at you - a warning of the rapidly waning time remaining before he needed to get on his school bus. A curse almost slipped from your lips as you tossed your legs over the side of the bed, but before you could even stand up, Toru was walking over to you. He knelt before you and gently placed a hand on your knee, looking up at you with a determined glimmer in his eyes that you usually only saw when he was preparing for a volleyball game.

“I’ll take him to school for you.” You shook your head, ready to protest, but he held up his other hand to stop you. “Don’t lie to me. You’re in no condition to be driving by yourself right now.”

“I’m fine.” You croaked, turning your head to clear your throat before trying to speak again. “I’m fine…”

“You’re not.” Something in his tone made his words sound resolute, and you fought the urge to curl into yourself since you knew he didn’t intend it that way. “Just take a few minutes to yourself-”

“I don’t need it.” Your answer came out too quickly, and he released a heavy sigh of resignation that made your mind scrambling to correct your words. “I don’t want time alone.”

Toru nodded, rubbing small circles on your knee with his thumb. “Then how about you ride with us, and we can go to that little coffee shop you like afterward, okay?”

Your eyes met his, and you didn’t know what he saw in them, but suddenly you were being pulled into a hug.

His arms wrapped around you to hold you close while his face hid in the crook of your neck. “You don’t have to face this alone. I know you feel alone, but you’re not alone. I know he broke you and shattered you into someone you no longer recognize. You’re still here, though…” He whispered; you could feel his Adam’s apple bob in his throat when he swallowed before continuing. “You’re still here. You’re alive. You’re trying every day, and I’m so- I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Everything in you wanted to push him away. Your cheeks burned in shame despite the chill running up your spine that he even needed to comfort you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes that you didn’t want to fall because if they did, how would you stop?

“Toru-”

“No. You need to hear this.” He cut you off with a firm tone that left no room for interruption. He held you tighter against him; the heat that radiated from his body felt soothing against your trembling form. “Fuck your ex. He’s a terrible person for what he did to you. You didn’t deserve anything that happened to you.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Do you understand that?”

‘He’s lying.’

“Toru…��

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You could see the tears welling up in his eyes. His chin trembled, and his voice seemed to waver when he spoke now. It caused your eyes to widen slightly in surprise. “You didn’t deserve what he did to you, and I know your mind is being so cruel to you right now – I know… I’ll never call you weak though, because you’re not. You’re so strong, and I am so proud of you for waking up today.”

‘Everyone would be better off if you didn’t.’

“You say that like anyone would miss me if I were gone.”

The small voice in the back of your mind screamed at you for saying that when you saw the look of horror that came over Oikawa’s face at your words. Guilt squeezed at your heart, tightening your chest as tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” The words were usually a knee-jerk response from how often you’d said them over the past almost decade, but you meant them now. You reached up with one hand to brush the tears away from his face with your thumb. “I’m sorry, Toru….”

“How could you say that?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t- Don’t ever let those dark thoughts win. I need you. I need my best friend. Your son, he needs you. He needs his mother.”

You knew this, and it was what you kept telling yourself every day to keep yourself from crumpling to the ground or letting your intrusive thoughts win out.

“Right now, you’re living. You’re alive because someone else needs you. One day you’re going to wake up and live for you. I’ll help you. I’m here for you every step of the way.” One of his hands came to rest on your cheek, and it was only then that you realized you had been crying too. “I can’t wait to see the light come back into your eyes. It’ll take time, but I can’t wait.”

He looked at you silently for a few minutes, letting his words sink in and allowing your tears to fall freely while you kept your hand on his cheek as if that single form of contact was an anchor for you. The sound of tiny footsteps running back toward your room snapped you out of your reverie and pushed his hand away gently to wipe your tears away.

“I’m going to be late for school!” Your son whined; his lower lip jutted out in a petulant pout.

You heard the soft chuckle from Oikawa and watched him stand up slowly to look over at the doorway your son stood in. “I’ll get you there, gremlin. Your mommy just needs to get ready.”

His words were even, devoid of the shakiness they held just a moment ago. Your best friend’s mask having slipped back on the ways yours does in moments like this.

“Mommy, hurry up!”

You barked out a laugh at the command. “I’m getting up now.”

Once again, his footsteps retreated as you stood up from the edge of your bed, and you were at eye level with the pretty setter’s chest.

“Take your time to get ready, okay?” He pats your head before leaving to give you space, closing the door behind him.

‘You’re just a shell of a person…’

Again, the mocking voice laughed at you when you took in your tired and tattered appearance in your floor-length mirror, but you shook your head and kept moving. You had things to do.

“One day, I’m going to live for me.” You repeated his words quietly while you moved around your room. You wanted to believe that he was right and wanted to believe that the woman you saw in the mirror today would change back into someone you could recognize again. “One day …”

© wonderland-journals || All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarize or translate my work on other platforms without my permission.

[collincountygaragedoor]

The Latest Garage Door Design Trends Transforming Collin County Properties

When it comes to boosting curb appeal, many Collin County homeowners are turning their attention to a surprisingly impactful feature: the garage door. Once considered purely functional, garage doors are now a major design element that can enhance the aesthetic of a home, increase property value, and even improve energy efficiency.

As new homes continue to rise across communities like Frisco, McKinney, Allen, and Plano, homeowners are embracing fresh styles, materials, and technologies to make their garage doors stand out. Whether you’re building new or renovating an existing home, staying on top of the latest trends in Collin County Garage Doors can help you make the right statement—and investment.

Here’s a look at the most exciting garage door design trends shaping Collin County neighborhoods in 2025.

1. Modern Minimalism Takes Over

One of the most significant shifts in garage door design is the move toward sleek, minimalist styles. Homeowners are opting for doors with clean lines, flush panels, and muted color palettes to complement contemporary architecture.

Popular Features:

Smooth steel or aluminum panels

Frosted or tinted glass inserts

Frameless finishes

Matte black or neutral tones like charcoal, sand, and white

These designs pair beautifully with modern and transitional homes, creating a seamless, upscale exterior.

2. Wood-Look Doors (Without the Maintenance)

Real wood garage doors offer rustic charm and warmth, but in Collin County’s climate, they can warp, rot, or fade over time. That’s why one of the hottest trends in garage door design is faux wood finishes that mimic the look of wood—without the upkeep.

Composite, steel, or aluminum doors are now available in stunning woodgrain textures and colors like walnut, cedar, and driftwood. These doors deliver durability, low maintenance, and a high-end look all in one.

A trusted garage door company in Collin County can help you explore faux wood options that suit your budget and style.

3. Smart Garage Door Technology

Style isn’t the only thing evolving—garage door technology is also getting smarter. More homeowners are integrating Wi-Fi-connected garage door openers that offer enhanced control, security, and convenience.

Features on Trend:

Smartphone app control

Voice assistant integration (Alexa, Google Home)

Motion detection lighting

Real-time alerts and activity logs

Smart openers are especially popular with busy families and remote workers in Collin County who want to monitor home access anytime, anywhere.

If you’re upgrading your system, ask your garage door repair technician about compatibility with your home’s smart ecosystem.

4. Glass and Full-View Doors

If you’re looking to make a bold architectural statement, glass garage doors are trending in upscale properties and custom builds across Collin County. These doors combine clean, modern lines with transparency and natural light, ideal for homes with a contemporary or mid-century modern aesthetic.

Available in full-view or partial glass designs, these doors use:

Tempered glass

Frosted or mirrored finishes

Black or brushed metal frames

While typically used in front-facing garages, they’re also gaining popularity in backyard workshops, converted gyms, and pool houses.

5. Bold Color Choices

While neutral tones remain classic, many homeowners are stepping out of the beige-and-white box and embracing bolder garage door colors that make their homes stand out.

Trending shades include:

Deep navy

Forest green

Matte black

Burgundy

Bronze

A colored garage door can tie in accent trim or contrast beautifully with a light-colored façade. Local Collin County Garage Doors specialists can help you choose paint finishes that hold up to Texas heat and UV exposure.

6. Insulated and Energy-Efficient Designs

Energy efficiency is a top concern for homeowners—and garage doors are a key part of the equation. Insulated doors help regulate indoor temperatures, reduce energy costs, and make garages more usable year-round.

In Collin County’s climate, where summers can be scorching and winters bring the occasional freeze, an insulated garage door can make a big difference in comfort and savings.

Look for:

Polyurethane or polystyrene insulation

Higher R-values (the higher, the better)

Dual- or triple-layer construction

Ask your garage door company about upgrading to an energy-efficient model that meets your environmental and budgetary goals.

7. Custom and Carriage House Styles

Rustic charm and custom craftsmanship are also in demand. Carriage-style doors—reminiscent of old barn doors—remain a popular choice for traditional and farmhouse-style homes. These doors often feature:

Decorative handles and hinges

Crossbeam patterns

Arched tops

Even modern homes are incorporating carriage-style designs with cleaner finishes or minimalist hardware. With dozens of customization options, a reputable garage door company can help design a door that’s truly one-of-a-kind.

8. Double-Duty Doors for Flexible Living

Homeowners are getting creative with garage space. With more people working from home or seeking additional living areas, multi-purpose garage doors are gaining traction.

Think:

Garage doors opening to patios or decks

Indoor/outdoor studios with glass roll-up doors

Workshop doors that let in natural light

Incorporating a high-quality, stylish garage door into your home’s living space can make your property more versatile—and valuable.

Keeping Design in Line with Function

While trends are exciting, it’s essential not to sacrifice function for style. No matter how beautiful a garage door looks, it must be:

Durable enough to withstand North Texas weather

Well-insulated to manage heat and cold

Easy to operate and maintain

Secure to protect your home and belongings

That’s where working with a professional garage door company pays off. The best providers in Collin County don’t just install beautiful doors—they help ensure long-term performance with expert installation and support.

Final Thoughts

As homeowners in Collin County continue to invest in home upgrades, garage doors are quickly becoming a focal point of style, security, and efficiency. Whether you want the timeless elegance of woodgrain textures, the sleek simplicity of glass and steel, or the cutting-edge convenience of smart tech, there’s never been a better time to explore your options.

By working with a trusted garage door repair specialist or installer, you can be sure that your new door enhances your home’s curb appeal while standing up to local climate challenges.

Ready to elevate your home’s exterior? Contact a local Collin County Garage Doors professional to discover the latest designs, request a consultation, or schedule an upgrade. Your dream garage door is closer than you think.