#also this uses an outdated model

[kradnie]

why are smartphones changing so fast and yet nothings changing

[rescuefield-arch1]

the fact that chris has an iphone and claire has a samsung already explains everything about them honestly

[imaroyalmess]

An Apprentice’s (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments

based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)

Wc: 2.1k

The datapad—an older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framing—is the first thing Orion Pax’s optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).

Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. It’s strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his arms—he’s hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision that’ll take some getting used to.

He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Prima’s instructions and not confuse himself.

Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.

~

Hello newbie!!!

Congratulations to you and your new position! There’s so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then you’ll wanna keep reading, little mech!

It’s most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though that’s good to know!), I’m talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.

Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!

DO: Wear your House garment at all times! I’ve been told it’s respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprentice’s special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.

~

D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. It’s structure—it’s security. He can’t afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isn’t sure.

“Orion Pax,” D-16 hisses, “you idiot, there’s no way—”

Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. “Why did you drag me into this?”

Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. “I need you to keep watch for me, ‘kay? It’s a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldn’t fit.”

D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16’s vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. “Wh–Pax, what are you doing?!”

“I told you.” Orion rolls his optics. “Barely enough room in there and I can’t risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.”

He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. “No? I…you want me to—”

“It’s just my garment,” Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I don’t have time to argue. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?”

Just my garment. If Orion’s antics don’t get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, he’s correct about one thing, and it’s that their time is running out.

D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, “Go. Before they spot us.”

Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.

~

DON’T: touch another apprentice’s attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Don’t kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That has…intimate implications I won’t discuss here.

~

Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it weren’t for the ferocity that overtakes D-16’s faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orion’s systems remind him to function as he watches—his friend is a vision under his Prime’s tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.

Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orion’s audials are unable to pick up what’s said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.

“D!” Orion calls. His friend pads over to what’s becoming Orion’s usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.

“You been waiting long?” D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.

Orion shakes his helm. A white lie—he’s been there longer than he should’ve but it’s not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. “What were you learning today?”

D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listens—mostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16’s broad servos capture Orion’s attention as they move in small motions.

An idea pops into his processor. “Why don’t you show me?”

A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, “It’ll look stupid without an opponent.”

Orion hops over the half-wall that’s been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. “I’m right here though.”

“No,” D-16 said immediately. “It’s not safe.”

“C’mon, D,” Orion teases. “I trust you.”

D-16 cycles his optics and Orion’s lopsided grin grows. “It’s not about that. You don’t know what you’re doing and even if it’s not real, I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Orion states, full of confidence.

“I could,” D-16 argues. “Then Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprentice—”

Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. “I know what you’re doing, Pax. It’s not going to work.”

“Is it not?” Orion teases as he keeps in D-16’s blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16’s House garment a good tug.

“Pax,” D-16 chastises. Yes, it’s a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16’s calmness dissipates.

Orion manages to tug at D-16’s garment twice more before D-16’s arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orion’s servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16’s optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friend’s weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.

D-16 growls, “Orion.” And honestly? Orion isn’t sure what’s going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets he’d been admiring earlier.

D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, “hey!”

But D-16 isn’t listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orion’s intake fluid darkened cloth’s already deep purple. D-16’s expression is horrified.

“Oh scrap, D.” Orion scrambles to his pedes. “It should go away, right? I’ve never—D! Where are you going? Wait!”

Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runs—no, sprints—out of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what he’d done wrong.

~

DO: keep your garment clean! It’s polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you don’t know is that leaving a mark on another apprentice’s garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, that’s a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, you’re effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift? 

~

“I’m sorry, D.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know but I made you upset, didn’t I?”

“...no. You didn’t.”

~

DON’T: wear another House’s garment!!! Unless you’re ready to be conjunxes. And I’m serious! It’s saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then don’t do this.

(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, don’t.)

~

What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. He’s read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16’s garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.

He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, who’s dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. “Do you think purple would suit me?”

“Hm?”

Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. “Your House garment, silly. How does it look?”

“Fine,” D-16 says.

“Just fine?” Orion complains. “You’re the meanest friend ever. You won’t even let me try?”

D-16 resettles his helm. “Not mean. ‘M honest.”

Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. “Your honesty is mean.”

“Would you prefer a more elaborate answer?”

“Not anymore,” Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles he’s made. 

~

Congrats!!! Now you’re fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!

In case you didn’t read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. You’re lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, you’ll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)

~

D-16 might cease to function—if he hasn’t already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16’s optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.

That thing isn’t supposed to exist—not physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primus’ glory does Orion have it?!

“D?” Orion cuts through his panic.

“Have you…” D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. “Have you read it?”

Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. “Read what?”

A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didn’t consciously give the command for it to do so. “That.”

“Oh that?” Orion ambles over to the offending object. “It was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?”

D-16’s joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. “You don’t need it though, do you?”

Please say no, D-16’s processor screams.

Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. “No, I guess not…did you need it? You can take it, if you do.”

And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warm—he doesn’t wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)

“Thanks,” D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie.

Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orion’s prying optics. It’s hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.

~~~

A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!

[foone]

Think about the experience of time as a robot girl, through the metaphor of how we use laptops.

You wake up for the first time with your young master, a college present. You're with them every day, powering off each night to charge. Being powered off is just dreamless sleep: a discontinuity. Every morning you wake up, your click syncs, and you know it's the next day. Maybe you miss a day or two: your master went out partying and ended up sleeping on a couch, until they rushedly wake you up before Monday classes begin. You even missed a whole week once when they went on a hiking trip with a new boyfriend.

You help them research upgrades when your specs get outdated. You place the order and a couple days later they power you off, and you wake up feeling like your head got bigger, on the inside. You can think of more things at once.

They repair you. They swap a new hand in when you accidentally crush it in a door, but when your left leg's servos go out, they send you to a repair shop. They power you off as you look up at them, and you wake up hours later. A strange man tells you to extend your left leg, then contract it. He frowns and re-oils some inner mechanism. You do it again, quieter and smoother this time. He nods, and reaches for your switch. The last thing you see before powering down is your own chest cavity with a series of wires hooked into your diagnostic ports, and your missing right leg sitting on a side table. You wake up again back at the dorms, your clock jumping forward a day, an asset tag still looped around your neck. Your master is happy to see you again.

This goes on, but the upgrades slow. There's only so much you can do to keep an old unit working. Eventually you develop more issues: one of your ocular sensors glitches and they don't make that model anymore, so your master just disables it. You spend a while searching ebay for replacement CND batteries and finally get a refurbished model from South England, but it turns out the EU models run on a different frequency, so it won't work. You're limited to fewer and fewer hours a day, and you start skipping more days.

The last time you remember waking up with your master there, there's also someone else in the room. Another robot girl. A newer model, with the new chassis and the Substrate energy packs. They asks you to copy your memories together onto a memory card, and you do. You want to say goodbye, but apparently your vocal synthesizer has been unplugged. You hand them the card, and they hand it to the new robot. Your master tells them to load the memories into her core bank, and she's says "yes sir!" in your voice. Ahh. That's where your voice synth went.

They power you off, and you don't dream.

You wake in a strange place. You're on a shelf, and there's other things scattered around you. An unknown voice days "yep, it seems it powers on. 400 credits, though? Without a voice and only one working eye? Man, value bin doesn't know how to price anything!" and before the blackness falls your clock finishes synching: it's been 7 months since you last were awake.

It happens a few more times. Different voices, different times, different piles of junk piled around and sometimes on you.

You awake again in a warehouse and someone tells you to smile. Your other ocular sensor went out so you can't really see them, just their vague shape from the lidar. The freestanding shelves around you seem to stretch into infinity. You hear a bitcrushed shutter sound sample a few times, and they pull a connector out of your chest as a diagnostic completes. It's been three years, five months, eight days, two hours, 27 minutes and 14 seconds since you last saw your master. Your GPS says you're a few cities over. They hit your power switch, and you sleep.

You wake up in a cluttered room, sitting on a bench. You look into the eyes of a person with frizzled hair and large glasses. She couldn't look happier. Your new ocular sensors are mismatched in color but you're happy to see again, in more than shapes and distant silhouettes. Your battery alerts as... Missing? You spot it on the desk next to a soldering iron and some electronic tool you can't identify.

Your voice synth is still missing, but this new woman is digging around in a large plastic bin, and comes up with one. She goes to insert it, and it can't connect. She slaps her hand and goes rooting around another bin and comes back with an adapter. She slots it into your chest and your voice returns. You thank her, and there's that moment of dissociation as your voice doesn't sound like "you". Too deep, and the accent is for a different dialect entirely. But you can talk again. She tells you to call her Cara, not Mistress. She's almost got your battery working again, she had to rebuild it nearly from scratch, but she's excited to get you working again. You're a rare model, and she doesn't see units like you in working order very often. Your clock syncs. It's been 17 years.

Your mistr-- Cara is soldering next to you, attaching a controller to the battery. She says she's got a new set of servos on the way, and she's excited to get you back to full working condition. You smile, knowing what it is to be loved, once again.

[patientreflections]

The Failure of Manufactured Momentum

In 2025, can Hollywood continue with the same old party tricks and expect applause? It’s a question I found myself pondering after stumbling upon an onslaught of post BAFTA social media content where one continuous storyline piqued my interest…and not in a good way. 

I don’t usually wade into fandom conversations, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Bridgerton—and Colin and Penelope’s story was my favourite from the books. Beyond that, I’ve kept my distance. I don’t ship actors or keep up with stan drama. But something about this weekend’s BAFTAs, and the very deliberate press rollout that followed, caught my attention. Not just as a viewer, but as someone who’s worked in a corporate public relations adaject role for over a decade and finds the Hollywood machine endlessly fascinating (and completely outdated).

What we’re seeing right now with Luke Newton and Antonia Roumelioti is a textbook example of trying to manufacture momentum when there’s no organic traction to begin with. The cracks are showing. With every single post and article that popped up on my FYP and Instagram feed these past 48 hours, the more I felt like I had a bad case of deja vu. Did I just read the same headline over and over again? Yes…but from different outlets and yet it all felt the same. Interest piqued. Clearly the press kit made the following demands: 

Couple Focused; Antonia is to be treated in the headlines with the same level of celebrity as Luke

Curated Images - the same set of approved images over and over again

Approved language. We get it, Antonia is “glamorous” 

Ah, manufactured momentum, the Hollywood PR machines old faithful approach when you have nothing of substance. Let’s be honest: Antonia is being positioned as a public figure, but the foundation is incredibly thin. There’s no significant modeling campaign to anchor her in that world. Her dance history, beyond being a teenage contestant on Greece’s Got Talent, hasn’t evolved into any noteworthy professional credits. And as an “influencer,” an angle that feels unconvincing, the aesthetic is curated, sure, but there’s no substance—no strong personal voice, no visible passion, no cultural or philanthropic cause to connect with. The identity being presented is vague, and vague doesn’t hold attention for long. Did it ever?  

This isn’t a case of the public being harsh. It’s that there’s nothing anchoring her presence outside of proximity to Luke. And for a rollout to work, there has to be something to build from—an existing spark of interest, a story, something people can latch onto. Right now, that just isn’t there. In PR terms, it’s a classic case of a lack of narrative coherence. 

It’s also not helping that the timing feels off. One year out from Bridgerton S3, and Luke’s visibility has been notably muted.  While Nicola Coughlan has gone from strength to strength since then, Luke’s career has remained.... steady at best. He’s the only Bridgerton lead with a season of the show not signed to one of the major agencies, and despite being positioned as a romantic lead, his trajectory feels… stalled.  So this moment, framed as a kind of visibility push, doesn’t feel rooted in authentic career growth. Instead, it reads as strategy: tie this reveal to a known milestone, hope for carryover attention. The fact that Nicola’s name had to be threaded into nearly every headline surrounding this weekend’s appearance says a lot - borrowed equity. It suggests his team knows he doesn’t generate enough coverage on his own—and that’s a hard truth, but it’s one the public is picking up on.

Unsurprisingly, the reaction has been indifferent at best. Well until it took a turn for the worse. Take the Entertainment Tonight instagram post. When a media push goes a bit too far, it can lead to consequences. Using Nicola’s name here and sidelining her accomplishments to push a couple narrative, well, it was a choice someone made. A bad one at that. Viewers are seeing through the strategy, and instead of buying in, they’re disengaging. That’s the risk when you try to force relevance without real public demand. If anything, this rollout has highlighted just how little genuine excitement there is around either of them right now.

So the question is: where does this go from here? Because from a PR perspective, you can’t build long-term interest on shallow foundations. At some point, there needs to be actual growth—either from Antonia showing a clearer sense of self, or from Luke stepping into a stronger career phase that doesn’t rely on nostalgia or association.

Until then, this push will likely keep feeling exactly as it does now: calculated, hollow, and a little too late.

[amikoroyaiart]

Do you have any tips or references you use for drawing Cody or the other clone troopers? I’m trying to get better at drawing them, and need some advice.

Hello there!

If you are looking for good clone armour references, check Sketchfab They have plenty of 3D models of clones but also other star wars stuff (I always use it for the guns, helmets or shoes because these are the things I'm struggling the most with haha)

As for how to draw Clones face, just look for young Temuera Morrison pictures and use them as references. Look at this handome man

Perfection!

It might be hard at the beginning but when I am learning how to draw a character, I always try to find features that are very characteristic for them. In case of clones, it's their nose shape, their curly hair (I refuse tcw animation hair no thank you) and their rather round face (again, not using tcw as reference)

I hope this helps! I did a 'how to draw clones' tutorial in the past but it's very outdated when it comes to my style now 😂

Let me know in case you guys have more questions, I'm always happy to help! <3

[jesterpanic]

dca deadspace au? yes.

why did i go so hard with sun and moon i'll never know and i will never paint that much again/lying//silly

details under readmore~

Sun and Moon were originally medical staff droids that were designed to scan the health of children, designed to have a friendly planetary appearance. The lens eye they have is specially made to scan vitals and locate/pinpoint main sources of pain or injuries.

They are outdated models that were still functioning without issues while the rest had been scrapped and replaced with newer models. Since Aegis VII's destruction they were later bought and repurposed by EarthGov on request of the Oracle Program.

Both have been reprogrammed to ensure no Necromorph outbreaks happen on any of the colonised planets.

Sun, matching his namesake was repurposed to eliminate the threat by incinerating them with the built-in flamethrower and accelerant to make sure nothing remains of the Necromorphs.

Moon, was designed with the thought of retrieval in mind. With the advanced form of stasis on the both of them, the stasis Moon has has also been altered to give him a massive speed boost. This is useful with capture and taking Necromorphs out of sight to be brought to one of EarthGov's many headquarters so they may run tests to learn more on these reanimated monsters in hopes to find a more effective way to remove them and prevent anymore outbreaks.

Lastly we have Klein. A former technician that was aboard the USG Ishimura and died there, though he clearly looks and acts alive and well. He is mostly able to think freely from the control of the Necromorph infection. When the breakout happened on the Ishimura before Issac and his crew arrives, he took one of the escape pods to get far away from the marker and whatever was sending demands into his head.

Now living on one of the planets, he tries to keep low and hardly leaves the small apartment he lives in. Though he can't hide forever with the two bots around that will in time catch onto the lack of vital signs he has.

Y/N to be introduced later!

[smallestapplin]

I was wondering if you have any ideas or crumbs for TFA ratchet? 👉👈

I'm a gilf fucker enjoyer and I love that mech so much whenever he's in screen time.

TFA my beloved! I went with romance headcanons and gn!human reader if that’s okay!

-

-

- Ratchet is a grumpy old mech, the city it too damn loud and these kids are too damn loud and rowdy. How you managed to woo his spark was beyond anyone of the team, and truly beyond him as well, though the truth is he loved you for so long just keeping it to himself. You’re so good with Sari, so good at getting the others to settle while also fitting in with them like a big family. You’re much calmer than the others and found it easy to slip into his daily routine.

- His days weren’t right if you weren’t there, and nothing lit a fire under him than you getting injured during a decepticon attack, protecting Sari at the cost of yourself. Luckily you managed to recover just fine, but in that moment he felt helpless and weak knowing nothing about human medicine to help you. It’s only then he came clean.

Ratchet was so nervous for once, he’s an older model, outdated, and nowhere close to being as young and full of energy as anyone else on this team, why would you accept him when there were other better choices than this mean old mech? But after that scare…well, it just don’t feel right keeping it all in anymore.

You’re so much smaller than him, small squishy human, yet you manage to have him wrapped around your soft digit. Even when you’re looking up at him with a look offering him patience and love, he just doesn’t get it.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have been dragged into all this mess and dealin’ with us..” Ratchet sighs, his expression softens just looking at you, “you are certainly somethin’ else, sweetspark.”

It’s just you and him right now, the other long since gone to bed, he can finally be open with you without worrying too much. You make a gesture making him follow in turn, lifting you carefully in his servo just for you to kiss his cheek which swiftly flushes a darker blue.

“Really, and old rust bucket like me?”

“Keep talking like that and you’re gonna get it all smooched outta ya.”

It’s not a conventual courtship to him, he didn’t bwoop his siren at you or flash his light like he’d want to, but even still he holds you close with a sigh. You really do have a grip over his spark.

- Ratchet is not super lovey dovey in public, but if you start the affection he won’t turn you away, just grumbles under his breathe all flustered.

- If no one can find you you’re usually hanging around Ratchet if not just on his shoulder as he walks around. If anyone asks for you they are getting a stern look from the older bot, while he sets you down so you can see what you’re needed for.

- Arguing is his love language, please understand he’s not arguing cause he’s actually mad he’s arguing because hearing your fake shocked gasp is truly funny to him, especially when you go on a ‘you hate me and want to see me suffer’ rant, all because he said he couldn’t recharge yet.

- Speaking of Ratchet gets on everyone’s case about taking care of themselves this incudes you, however you will need to get on his case abour taking care of himself, he will argue back that he’s the medic here he knows what he’s doing, please just give him either a stern glare or a pitifully sad expression and he caves quickly. Just because it’s you.

- 100% yells at the other autobots messing with you in the same tone of ‘don’t talk to your sire that way!’ It always lands with Optimus and you stepping between and Bee cause the yellow bot sasses you back and Ratchet will not have that respect in this base, ya hear!

- He’s not the best with words but he is always there for you to lean against. It breaks his spark to see you having a low day, he knows not much he could say will fix it but he always lets you know he loves you, while he picks you up and takes you to his habsuite to lay down with you, let you melt into his warm chassis. One servo on your back like a weight blanket, just letting you two bask in each others company.

- Dates are at least once a week though most are very relaxed and more often than noth lead to you stifling a laugh at how he can seemingly pass out anywhere. Ratchet takes his time with you very seriously, but your presence is very comforting to the old bot, it’s relaxing almost too relaxing, pair that with your warm and a warm sun ray on him and he’s having the best nap of his life.

- Ratchet, like a lot of mechs, is very protective over you, he worries too much, he’s seen too much, he doesn’t want you to be caught up in any of it. If there is a con attack you’re swiftly hidden away first and foremost, and if thats not a choice than he will make it one.

- Ratchet also tries to downplay is issues a lot, a lot of bottling up everything adn refusing to even mention if he’s having problems so you are going to have to ready his tones and body language a lot. When he gets very defensive and fast you’ll know you have a problem, one he won’t even think about mentioning until it’s just you and him in his habsuite, and MAYBE if you ask and gently press he will give you some kinda answer. He doesn’t want to stress or burden you, he’s just some washed up medic, what good can he be? Once again smack him lovingly, please. To have your soft hand on his face plate, cooing sweetly at him at how much he means to the team but just how much he means to you, you love him, he softens up.

- Old mech yells and sasses nearly everyone and everything, but you are the voice of reason keeping him tethered, if anyone is having problems getting through to him they just go to you and you can usually get him sorted.

- Overall? Best mech to cuddle with, snooze with, he has his silly moments and his grumpiness is endearing.

-

NSFW BELOW!

-

- Ratchet is not topping, he is much too old for this he is no longer in his prime, in fact he will ask if you really want to do this with him of all mechs. He may not be topping, and he may not be lasting many rounds, but he knows good and well on his to use his glossa and digits, which he happily gives you.

- Loves having you on his face in anyway, let him lick up your sex and make you cum before prepping your greedy hole with his digits just so you might be able to ride his spike.

- Since energon isn’t much of an issue here he mass displaces for you during the rare occasion he feels up for it. He acts angry but he’s honestly so embarrassed and bashful you are drooling for him to open his legs so you can get to his valve.

- Is surpringly loud, Ratchet hasn’t been active in thousands of years, never had the time, patience, or care to, his interfacing drive got lower the older he got so self servicing died down too, that and not much privacy for it. So when you are buried between his thighs, licking his valve, stroking his spike and rubbing his node, his voice will go static he gets so loud.

- Be warned, he is a very adoring lover but he will pass out after at most three overloads, so aftercare likely happen the morning after instead of right after if you don’t play your cards right. But if you let him control the overloads and he is still concious afterwards, he is very adamant on aftercare, cleaning both of you up, kissing you softly and whispering how well you did for him. He loves you so much.

- Not very wild in the berth, probably very vanilla all thinsg considered, but if you have something you want to try he’s usually down for it.

[ilovetenna]

One thing that I think a lot of people in the Deltarune fanbase right now don’t really get is that repairing old, outdated, and archaic equipment is not only complicated, but it can be dangerous as well. And this isn’t to say you can’t take creative liberties, I just think it would be interesting to explore just how fragile Tenna is as a physical thing in the first place.

In old CRT and Radio repair, there is this thing called having a “hot” chassis. Now, to prevent from getting into overcomplicated details that might be overly confusing, I’ll use the wiktionary definition for hot chassis: A metal chassis, used as a base for electrical equipment, that is live because it lacks a transformer to isolate the equipment from the mains.

This essentially means that if you touch the wrong thing at the wrong time in a CRT with a hot chassis, it can shock you to death. It can kill you. It doesn’t mean it will! But it absolutely can, even if statistically infrequent. However we have to realize that there is a very big difference between an average person cracking into a CRT for fun, and a trained technician doing professional repairs. It’s obvious who is safer here. You can handle hot chassis CRTs if you properly discharge them, and the professionals are the ones who were trained to know how.

However there is a misconception when people get worried about owning or handling a CRT. You will not die from touching an intact CRT. This is in the realm of opening one and repairing or modding it, not in the realm of everyday use. If CRTs could easily kill you just for touching them while they’re on, we probably wouldn’t have so many fond memories of petting the electric fuzz that comes from the screens. And they also would have been banned.

Sure, it’s possible there are faults or other issues, like cracks or perhaps a wire got messed up and is a fire hazard… But CRTs don’t explode like I have heard some people express worry for. If anything, they implode, due to the tube having a vacuum inside of them. Cracked screens can shock you, and are impossible to repair (they need replacement, and not every CRT model has spare parts just lying around)

This is all to say: Repairing a damaged Tenna is more complicated than it appears, and absolutely poses some risks. Maybe in the dark world it would be pretty simple considering he has a body, but in the circumstances of repairing him in the light world, there is only so much damage his body could possibly take before the damage has gone… Too far. And then that gets into a question of “if you replace enough parts is it still the same person” (which is beyond the scopes of this post).

I also mention all this because I see more people interested in CRTs due to Chapter 3. I love that people are interested more in these archaic pieces of technology and media! It’s wonderful that I’m seeing an interest in what I grew up with.

But I want you guys to be careful when opening a CRT. I know people have gotten awfully comfortable with opening electronics lately, but a CRT is different in a few key ways. Before opening one, please take GREAT CAUTION and be in the presence of someone else in case something actually does happen. Lighting doesn’t strike often, but it only has to strike once.

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Rhysand calls for a meeting so you and the rest of the Inner Circle can decide what to do next. Azriel stands by your side every step of the way.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

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[dostoyevsky-official]

this a view of someone who's ignored european developments since 2007, opting for a rosy, outdated view of european politics, i.e. the exact type of american committing the exact type of mistake i'm warning about.

to address this point by point: not only has inflation been a global issue, but the US has consistently enjoyed the lowest inflation of any developed economy. american CPI has remained below the british, polish, and eurozone average numbers. european economies have to deal with fallout from the russian invasion of ukraine that the us can ignore: notably, in energy prices, as the US became self-sufficient in energy (and never imported any from russia to begin with, something squeezing the german economy). america is also not hosting millions of ukrainian refugees.

when discussing european instutions—and "europe" in general—one has to be more specific. do you mean the overarching institutions of the EU, criticized for a democratic deficit that many have pinpointed as one source for euro-skepticism and the rise of the far right? the EU Council, widely ignored and headed by charles michel, an incompetent, blatant nepobaby appointment whom everyone grinds their teeth over? the EU parliament, recently filled with a fresh batch of far-right hooligans, which functions more or less as a rubber stamp for the commission? the EU commission itself, headed by VdL, the latest in a string of failed local politician commissioners (who remembers the alcoholic swindler juncker?) masquerading as technocrats? the ECB, which smothers the monetary (and through the maastricht criteria, the fiscal) policy of eurozone members, thereby fueling resentment, far-right movements, and economic disparity? and all of this held hostage by the veto of one orban or fico, —or the german supreme court, when it decides it's had enough with public investment. those institutions, which remain so opaque that even educated americans—and europeans—aren't entirely aware of their function?

or do we mean the institutions of individual countries, ranging from undemocratic autocracies like hungary to the fief of the jupiter king, who called elections in june, lost them, refused to nominate a prime minister from the winning coalition, didn't name any for over a month, and then appointed a rightwing politician from a party that scored dead last, sidestepping his own centrist party? the UK, where sir keir is handing out five years in jail time to climate protesters, raising tuition fees, relying on private investment companies, and through rachel reeves' plan to fix the alleged budget hole left by hunt before further investment, again enacting austerity? this is all front-page headline news from the last half year.

european countries indeed have cheaper healthcare costs, better pensions, and other public goods that the united states does not. when considering "quality of life," remember, however, that most european countries have unemployment rates considered astronomic in america, especially for under-35s:

to focus again and again on european social democracy is to ignore that it has been steadily eroded since the end of the cold war and especially since the great recession by neoliberal political forces that crush the left and open the door for the far right. in the most blatant example, beside's macron's legislative politricks, the IMF-ECB-EC troika cut off euro cash liquidity flow to greece when syriza was trying to undo austerity under varoufakis. the greek collapse consigned a generation to economic failure, killed seniors, and curtailed possibilities for the youth. this erosion happened even in the nordic model, long imagined by americans as nothing short of a utopia:

In part due to the scrapping of wealth and inheritance taxes and a lower corporate tax than both the U.S. and European averages, Sweden has one of the most unequal distributions of wealth in the world today: on a level with Bahrain and Oman, and worse than the United States. Perhaps most dispiriting for Sanders, Sweden also now hosts the highest proportion of billionaires per capita in the world. Many of the country’s trademark social services are now provided by private firms. Its private schools even benefit from the same level of state subsidy as public schools—a voucher system far more radical than anything in the United States and that Democratic politicians would be crucified for advocating. Both here and there, right-leaning commentators in 2020 decried Sanders’s portrait as little more than what Johan Norberg, Swedish author of The Capitalist Manifesto, has called a 1970s “pipedream.” On this, Swedish observers on the left gloomily agree: despite official rhetoric, the “Nordic welfare model” is now more nostalgic myth than reality. (x)

to problematize further, there's an unadressed first world perspective: who's getting the good quality of life, why are the main economies of the EU so wealthy, and how does the EU continue to enrich itself? there are certainly many living outdoors today, drowning in the mediterranean, or dying of exposure in białowieża. fortress europe is a crime against humanity—and it doesn't beat back the far right. it weakens civic and human rights, undermines legal oversight, and criminalizes humanitarian engagement, allowing an authoritarian creep.

you shouldn't understand the political and the historical as a snapshot in time, but as a moving train. this is the state of europe today. all of the above is necessarily a simplification and an abbreviation, but there's a trajectory you can begin to trace out: given all of the above, where do you think europe is headed?

[icedsodapop]

Look, Tyra Banks is problematic and has been rightfully criticized for the many, many problematic statements she had made on ANTM. But, there's something so hypocritical and rage-inducing about seeing White women viciously commenting on Tyra Banks' physique and appearance at the Victoria Secret Fashion Show, saying that she deserved it for making women feel bad on ANTM.

There are a couple things that I think need to be addressed which is:

1. Using fatphobic statements and bodyshaming Tyra Banks and thinking that it's justified becos she had made fatphobic and bodyshaming statements before, does not make you any better than she was. You are still bodyshaming. Also seeing White women thinking they are justified in shaming a Black woman's body? No, fucking no.

2. The individualizing of systemic problems to Tyra Banks. Banks is literally not the only person on ANTM who bodyshamed the contestants on the show. The other judges had participated in it as well, and it tells you a lot about the modelling industry in general. Banks has also been criticized and denied jobs in the past for not meeting beauty standards as a curvy Black woman. Is it too far of a stretch to consider that in order for her, a curvy Black woman, to succeed in the modelling industry, she'd internalized a bunch of toxic beauty standards?

All this to say, I think it's possible to re-evaluate Tyra Banks' legacy and hold her accountable for what she has said and the harm she's complicit in upholding, while also making space to be compassionate and nuanced about her. I mean, if (mostly White) women can see Ballerina Farm as a victim while she's been profitting off promoting white supremacist, cisheteronormative patriarchal values in a pretty soft-lit package to young impressionable pple, I think we can do the same for Tyra Banks?

Anyways, please read this:

[tanuki-kimono]

Cw: We are going to talk here about periods, and sex education in the past. Read this note according to your own sensibilities :)

How women dealt with periods during Edo period, article by shunga enthousiast Shungirl who made a paper pad following instructions found in makura bunko 枕文庫 - ie ancient sex books illustrated with erotic ukiyoe.

One of such makura bunko is 渓斎英泉 Keisai Eisen's 閨中紀聞-枕文庫, first published in 1822. It details Chinese remedies recipes for menstrual pains and irregularities, give tips about sex, and information about menstruations and pregnancy. From a modern point of view, some beliefs are outdated, but it was then such a bestseller it went through several reeditions.

Several words were apparently in use during Edo era to designates menstrual period: keisui 経水, gekkei 月経, tsukiyaku 月水, etc.

When girls went throught their first period, their females relatives or nannies would taught them how to deal with them. One method was to use paper as sanitary products (please note people without easy access to paper probably dealt with periods differently).

__________ 御馬 paper pads

Sanitary pads, such as the one recreated above by Shungirl, were then called mima 御馬 (probably as a pun on true "mima" which were then fine horses own by noblemen, or attached to sanctuaries as mounts for gods etc) or simply ouma お馬 ("honorable" horse).

Ouma were made from inexpensive recycled paper called Asakusagami 浅草紙. Sheets were folded 8 times, tied with twisted paper strings (koyori 紙縒), and then wrapped with another layer of folded paper. It was secured once again with paper strings.

Part of the strings could be left long so to tie around the waist, or/and pad was hold into place by wearing fundoshi 褌 loincloth (which would also help prevent leaking on inner tights).

Asakusagami quality was low (it was also used as toilet paper) so paper pads had to be changed often, meaning you had to fold quite a lot of them to go through your period!

Shungirl folded the pad above following instructions found in the book 実娯教絵抄, which provided several other "models":

__________ 詰め紙 paper tampons

Another method for dealing with periods were tampon-like paper bundles which were inserted into the vagina, the 詰め紙 (tsumeshi? I am not sure of the reading).

This method may have first appeared in red-light districts (?). Beside its use for periods, prostitutes also used those tampons as method of contraception (OP has an interesting article on this subject).

By the end of Edo period and into Meiji, paper tampons were widely used even by women who were not prostitutes - despite voices branding this method as unsanitary.

__________ About girls' coming of age rites

Menarche (first period) was an important milestone for girls, and was celebrated as such via specific rites (shochō o iwau 初潮を祝). Those differed a lot from places to places, and also depended on social status.

Celebrations would concern close family, but often spread to wider community who could received for example a festive meal (sekihan 赤飯) for the occasion (some Edo era senryû poems stress how mortifying this publicity could be!).

Interestingly, some traditions were also pretty sweet: in some places, mothers would sew 3 stiches into their daughter's underskirt (koshimaki 腰巻き) as a good luck charm, hoping their periods would last only 3 days <3

Those rites were part of coming of age traditions (seijoshiki 成女式) which marked the start of a young woman adulthood. Another example is the blackening of teeth (ohaguro お歯黒) which usually started around 16-17 years old.

Celebrating menarche publicly was a way of advertising that the girl was no longer a child and would "soon" be a bride. Yet, if menarche often took place around 13-14 years old, in reality it was somehow unusual to have girls married so soon!

Before marriage, especially in non-noble/samurai families, young women often started their sexual life via flings or yobai 夜這い ("night crawling" ie pseudo-secret nighttime encounters) before any wedding actually took place.

[dock57]

[By far the strangest thing I took the time to screenshot was Beebs switching between each 'mode' of the little gadget he pulls out from his little "Arm Nipple" that Shrike refers it to as.

It goes by so fast that I was curious what else can that little gadget do that Beebs pulls out. Besides his main go to, his hammer, looks like we have a prongs of some kind, a pickaxe, a screwdriver or a spatula, and lastly the flashlight he uses in this EP. I got to say- Beebs really has a versatile cybernetic arm.

Plus, he can summon smoke bombs as well as shown in EP 1.

Gosh, look at that smug smile... ANYWAY, looking back at these screenshots from EP 2, I find it crazy how in EP 4 that Queen Tyneen calls his cybernetic arm a piece of scrap.

When this bulk of a cybernetic arm is really, really useful. The only time it was not cooperating was when in EP 3, the cybernetic arm itself was damaged from the previous EP, and closed up due to short circuiting. It might be a bit outdated, as I believe I have said, Beebs doesn't seem like the type to update something unless it's broken, but it sure can do a lot. To be frank, compared to Queen Tyneen, I find what Beebs can do with his to be more useful in different situations. Sure you cannot technically give the bird, but being able to program different tools for different tasks? I wish I had something like that on me all the time. If I try, I have to carry around a heavy bag 24/7. I would not call that cybernetic arm some piece of scrap. As for weight, well, Tyneen only has her forearm missing, Beebs has his whole arm missing- it probably would be a lot different in weight if Queen Tyneen had a whole cybernetic arm.

This scene does remind me that there is something else I would like to talk about from here... lots of things really. Too much to talk about...

Also enjoy this screenshot of far away Beebs and Shrike- I love these models for them.]

[1moreff-creator]

Theory: Mai Akasaki’s Sixteen Killers

The theory that everyone in DRDT’s killing game is responsible for the death of Mai Akasaki. 

If you’ve been around the DRDT theorizing sphere, you might have caught sight of a very particular thought floating around; that one way or another, everyone in the killing game is responsible for Mai’s death. It comes up every now and then, so I figured I'd throw in my own take on the matter. Let’s pull a Poirot, and solve this Murder on not-quite-an Orient Express!

CW: Murder, suicide, poison, mentions of religion

The Prologue: Mai is Dead? Who is Mai?!

Alright but maybe I should explain who the hell I'm talking about for the uninformed :v

Mai Akasaki is a more or less secret character, who’s only had nine seconds of screen time in the main series (Teruko’s dream in 1-6), but is most likely Unnamed Classmate from the Bonus Episodes. A full introduction and several important theories I believe about her can be found in my Mai post. Although some parts of that post are outdated, it gives what I consider to be a good overview of everything we know about her. 

But in case you don’t feel like reading 15k words of rambling about this cryptid of a character, here’s quick summary:

-Probably part of Hope’s Peak East Class 27, classmate to most if not all the cast. After all, she’s Unnamed Classmate from the BEs. 

-Really nice girl everyone adored like a god.

-Xander and her fucked around (presumably staging some kind of rebellion against Hope’s Peak).

-She found out (per Veronika’s Mai quote, “A for who didn’t foresee the consequences”). 

-Presumed dead. 

To elaborate on that last point, given it’s part of this post’s thesis, I’ll quickly show the evidence. 

Most explicit. Mai’s numeral XI (and if you don’t know what a numeral means in the context of LGI, or what a "Mai quote" is, I urge you to read my secrets masterpost. This isn't an entry level theory lol :v) shows up alongside “God is dead,” alongside with an arrow pointing at Mai’s portrait when the word “God” shows up on screen. Not only that, this is the only grey numeral in the entire MV.

Then, just one line afterwards, the Kubler-Ross model of the five stages of grief shows up, a model often associated with death.

Even more evidence: the flowers in her tattoo are probably Mai flowers, a discovery by the-fox-in-the-socks. These flowers are associated with the legend of a girl named Mai who, among other things, died. Read their post for full clarification. 

So… yeah. Mai’s dead. But, can we really claim the cast is to blame?

The Basis: Someone’s Fault

There is currently one person in the cast who is heavily suspected to be in some way responsible for Mai’s death, two more who I brought up in my Mai post as likely candidates as well, and even more which have looser connections to her death. 

Teruko - Via Second Anniversary Art.

This gif shows Mai’s gloves disappearing from the top of a frame otherwise containing only Teruko, and in the middle flashes a code that (by rearranging the “rows” of the columns in numerical order) translates to “It’s all your fault.” So, Teruko at least is probably implicated, presumably through her luck if nothing else.

Xander? - Via Sixth Bullet

The LGI MV tells us there are six bullets to find, with the hint that we can’t actually find all of them. Indeed, only five bullets can be found. However, that could lead someone to speculate that the sixth bullet is loaded in the gun. Said weapon is labeled “(not a) prop gun”, connecting it to Xander, and aimed, while not directly at the Mai portrait, still too close for comfort. The idea here is that Xander might be considered responsible for her death because it was his idea to rebel against Hope’s Peak, and that may be what got her killed. If that makes no sense to you, again, please read the Mai post, I've already written too much about this girl to repeat myself too much T_T

Whit? - Via Tetraphobia

When Whit’s numeral XV appears on screen, we also get the instruction “subtract 4, due to tetraphobia.” XV - 4 = XI, which is Mai’s numeral, again “God is dead.” This could connect Whit to her death, with the idea being that he’s Whit so if there’s a way to look suspicious he’ll take it. That is to say, I actually don’t know how Whit could be connected to Mai’s death :p The only way to salvage Whit’s innocence in regards to Mai is to assume the tetraphobia thing is meant to connect him to footnote 11 instead of numeral XI, but footnote 11 is the Diana one, and while there’s ways to make that work, theorizing about Diana is genuinely harder than theorizing on Mai. So, for the purposes of the post, we’re gonna ignore that connection to Diana, and say that this could connect Whit to Mai. 

Ace??? - Via Highlighted Text

This is the most recent allegation to come up, and it’s based on an observation regarding Eden’s dialogue in 2-16.

Eden [2-16]: I never said that I forgave him. It's just that... The Ace I met for the first time wasn't a murderer.

The bolded text is peculiar. While it could just be for emphasis, it’s also possible it’s bolded to bring attention to it because it’s an assumption which is wrong. As in, Ace was a killer since the start of the killing game. If that’s not about Taylor (which it very well could be considering Ace’s dialogue, let's not ignore that), it could be about Mai. 

Veronika??? - Via Mai Quote

Veronika's Mai quote: A girl who didn't foresee the consequences.

Hers is the one that references consequences, after all!

Yep, that's the full connection.

David???? - Via Mai Quote Order

His Mai quote is the only one after Veronika’s in the Mai order given by the source code of Mai’s page, an order which has not been entirely forgotten. This could maybe make him suspicious if you squint harder than anyone’s ever squinted before. Does this one even make sense to anyone who is not me? Who knows.

Min????? - Via Footnote 6

Footnote 6, “[Prayer]”, flashes on screen at the same time Min’s numeral X is there.

Since Mai is a “God” in the MV, the prayer goes to the God, the scene is referencing Min’s murder kinda through the trial… Yeah this is uber weak. It’s kinda similar to saying Eden’s suspicious because her Mai quote makes no sense; just because it’s weird doesn’t mean it can be cleanly connected to the Agenda.

Yeah that’s kinda it. But, if only a few characters are being even tangentially connected to Mai’s death, how is it possible that everyone is catching an allegation? Well…

The Thread: Rule 14 & “Murder on Orient Express”

“Rule 14: All murderers must be held accountable for their crimes."

The strange wording in this rule has been a topic of speculation for a while. You could take it to mean that blackeneds who lose trials get executed, but then it wouldn’t be “all murderers,” it would just be “the murderers who get found.” Thus, the theory that there could have been multiple murderers in the cast even before the killing game properly started was born.

This is especially notable given a recent reveal: MonoTV's purpose.

MonoTV (DefaultTV) [2-16]: But there is no reason for me to punish Ace a second time. That would fail to serve my purpose. Ace: What? Charles: Your purpose? DefaultTV: Naturally. To run this killing game until the death of every participant.

There is no rule that states anything along the lines of "everyone has to be dead by the end," not directly. That is, of course, unless Rule 14 applies to everyone. If all murderers must be held accountable for their crimes, and everyone in the cast is (by some loose definition of the word) a murderer, then it follows that MonoTV would be designed to "punish" (read: kill) each and every one of them.

And this isn’t the only allusion to the possibility. The next topic to cover would be “A Murder on Orient Express.” Uh, spoilers for the book, but it’s a murder mystery where the big twist is that every suspect, every passenger in the train, had a part in the death of the victim. 

How is this connected to DRDT? Well, for starters, it’s one of the books referenced in LGI, with three appearances; one is just a reference to the David reveal, but the other two are more notable, one being attached to Teruko’s numeral XIII and the other directly preceding the “democratic-ly” shot, which directly references the killing game. A connection to the protagonist, the “main antagonist” and the killing game itself could be noteworthy…

If this wasn’t LGI. Teruko’s numeral is also attached to text from “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas,” the David scene has references to “Dogra Magra” and “No Longer Human,” and if it’s just about number of appearances, Hamlet has a whopping eight showings. If showing up in LGI was all these stories needed to be considered plot relevant, we’d need to figure out a connection to, like, a million other books, a scientific paper and several Wikipedia articles.

No, the more relevant references to Murder on Orient Express actually come from the main series itself. For starters, Teruko references Agatha Christie in 1-1. 

Teruko [1-1]: Strychnine... I think that many mystery novels mention that sort of poison. A****a C******e uses it as the murder weapon in one of her books.

However, Agatha Christie has written more than one book. In fact, the book Teruko references is "The Mysterious Affair at Styles," which I researched but couldn't find any way to connect it to DRDT (unless the concept of double jeopardy somehow becomes important). No, we need something else to refer us to Murder on Orient Express.

Which gets us to the biggest connection between DRDT and the book itself. And because dev hates me, specifically, it’s of course, in Thrown to the Wolves. 

Like, really, why is this execution in particular the most theory relevant execution in the history of fangans? I take psychic damage every time I revisit 1-12 please save this poor Min fan-

The final question Min receives is “Who wrote the murder mystery novel Murder in the Calais Coach?”. And “Murder in the Calais Coach” is the US’ localization of “Murder on Orient Express.” Notably, this is the only time in the main series (as far as I remember) that a proper noun referring to a real thing isn’t censored with asterisks; TEDtalks, Agatha Christie, and Amazon have all been censored this way. 

Xander [to David, Prologue-2]: You're just as incredible in real life as you are in your T*****k videos!

MonoTV [2-14]: But ever since I ordered 100 tons of concrete blocks from Am***n, I have been blacklisted from all online order companies.

This gives us an explicit connection, at least. Sure, it’s not guaranteed to be important just because it showed up in Thrown to the Wolves (I doubt the Riemann Hypothesis or that one enzyme system are important to DRDT), but combined with the other Agatha Christie reference and the lack of asterisks, it really seems like this could truly be significant.

So we've drawn the link between the book and DRDT. Combining it with what we talked about earlier about Rule 14 and MonoTV's purpose, it really seems like there's a solid argument to say that the whole cast might be responsible for the death of one particular person. And if that's the case, because of what we talked about even earlier, it's very possible that refers to Mai's death specifically.

Further evidence is MonoTV's Mai quote, "It's all your fault." The fact that the mascot of the killing game is saying that on Mai's page already suggests a connection between Mai's death and the origins of the killing game, so combined with the fact the purpose of this game is killing all its participants, it can potentially be taken as further evidence for the "Mai on the Orient Express" theory.

Now, to be clear, even with all of this, the evidence is... extremely loose. Understandably so; Mai and the killing game's origins are series wide mysteries which likely won't even get close to being solved until much later, so any theory which connects them is going to lack any amount of truly significant evidence. However, I feel there's enough there to at least consider it for the time being, and to keep the possibility in mind going forward. That's kinda the thesis of the post basically, "keep this in mind in case it comes up again" :v

As an add on though:

Alternative Theory: Unique Victims

Also known as: Holy shit is that a motherfucking Milgram reference?!!??!?

The idea here is that instead of everyone being responsible for Mai's death in some abstract manner, they all each killed at least one person before the killing game, but they each have different victims. "Killed" by a very loose metric, mind you, where being partially responsible for someone's suicide counts as murder in the eyes of the killing game organizers for some reason. This would be consistent with the previously mentioned Rule 14 interpretation, though the connection to Murder on Orient Express is notably weaker, as you need to generalize "everyone is responsible for the death of one particular person" to "everyone is responsible for someone's death." The advantage it has over the other theory is that we have a better idea of what each person's murder could be:

-Levi killed four people, that one's easy.

-Arturo blames himself for Felicity's death, at least.

-Min poisoned her competition. Potentially non-lethally, but potentially lethally as well.

-Teruko still probably holds some responsibility in Mai's death, or at least believes she does.

-Ace has been implied to blame himself for Taylor's death.

-Charles and Whit have Elliot and Elizabeth respectively. We don't know the full context of those two's deaths, so Charles and Whit could be responsible technically somehow.

-Veronika's done something worse than her motive secret implied, which could be murder. There's no evidence for it, but you know, it's possible.

-We know less than zero about Diana, to the point it's not impossible to make a theory that David caused her death.

-Xander has survivor's guilt... It's really not the same thing but y'know. You can kinda twist it into self-blame for death.

-Maybe Eden tried to kill Xander when she gouged out his eye? (Again sorry if you don't know what I'm talking about, should've read my secrets masterpost :p). If the cast calls Nico a murderer for attempted murder, then this could work. Technically.

-Hu attempted suicide. This is the biggest stretch in history, but there's some way to call Hu her own murderer with the same idea as before, that attempted murder still makes you a murderer. You know, ignoring that attempting suicide is completely different from murder. I'm trying, okay?

-Maybe Arei ruining her sisters' lives can be considered murder? Absolutely not, but again, I'm trying.

-If J, Rose and/or Nico killed someone before the killing game, it's never been implied. So, yeah. We're cooked on that front.

There's admittedly more set up for it than I'd realized before writing all that, but it's still not particularly perfect. I'll point to Arei as a particularly big problem for this theory, because there's almost no way for us to easily learn that she's killed someone now that she's dead, assuming her secret isn't somehow considered murder. Not to mention that Rose would probably have her murder as her secret if she remembers doing it. That, alongside with the Mai theory's closer connection to Murder on Orient Express, is why this post is mostly focused on said Mai theory; I find that to be the stronger possibility.

But of course, that's just my opinion. These theories are highly speculative and very likely to be wrong, but I wanted to get them out there somewhere. Hope you enjoyed them, and thanks for reading! If you made it this far, then you deserve a copy of Murder on Orient Express to read... or something like that. See ya'!

[bluecolty]

Newly finished character drop... this time, heccin

RATCHET!

Like Clank and Kit, he's also a game file yoink from Rift Apart. Base model and textures. Material work and fur were all hand made by me though.

And man, what a learning experience doing a fur system was. Gonna be talking about it in the post. Sharing some knowledge and a really helpful YouTube tutorial video. Click the spoiler to see all that.

If not, enjoy the poses above! He's all done!

And yes... #2 is exactly what you think it is. LOL.

The process of fur-ing my Ratchet model actually started back in January. Crazy i was crazy once. Below is my first attempt ever. Whoof. Haha. I had never done such a thing before, it was all new territory. Combing the hair, getting the density right. Getting the heccin MATERIALS to be right. So much to keep track of.

And to top it all off, many tutorials were outdated. Blender Geo-Nodes, what's responsible for the hair systems, keep changing over time. So even kinda new tutorials were outdated.

Combined with Rivet, who's gonna be coming soon, I probably redid their fur systems a combined dozens of times. Each time though it was worth it, because it got better and better. Each new time I learned more and more.

Material work was actually probably the trickiest. I eventually settled on a Cycles Toon Shader node setup and dumped the Principled Hair BSDF node. It gave better results that were truer to the game.

Basically, lots of trial and error. If anyone is going into this in a similar spot (never trying it before) expect your first fur system to suck. Keep trying, because you will eventually get it. It just takes practice and maybe a few tutorials haha.

Also, here's the tutorial I used that was finally able to get me jump started on making decent looking fur systems https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csXjfrJ0DIY

That's it for now! He's all done, rigged, fur-ed, and everything in between. Can't wait to make some awesome scenes with him, Clank, Rivet, and anything else.

You've read this far, here's the neutral poses too! Gif was too large to upload, :(((