#faulty code!!

[encorific]

🎡LET'S GIVE THIS ONE MORE SPIN... ENCORE, ANYONE??🎡

the name's ENCORE, welcome to the show- are you strapped in? got ur popcorn??

currently into: eddsworld, pokemon b+w, sam+max, moomins, mlp:fim, ducktales, murder drones, adventure time, vg modding, etc,,,

there's a few of us- expect coding errors!!! (did)

ur free 2 check our page 4 more info :]

tag guide:

artsythings - art by me!!

ramblethings - ramblings and spamm

askthings - answered asks >:]

reblogthings - guess (in case ur only here for art n stuff)

old tags -

8-bitsart - art

8-bitsbrainrot - ramblings

8-bitsaskbox - answered asks

IMPORTANT STUFF/BYI:

!! PG-13 !!

!! NO STEALING/REPOSTS losers

!! DNI - proship, entirely nsfw blogs, general bigots, the people who go out of their way to step on worms when it rains

!! my art and such may centre around triggering stuff (drugs, gore, angsty junk, it's all tagged) or suggestive jokes/content! heed tws and tread carefully please!

!! uncensored strong language warning !! @#☆!$

WE ALSO HAVE A YOUTUBE GO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE FOR NOTHING WE NEVER POST!!!

[tagetto]

he stinks of diesel fumes, solder flux & cigarette smoke which has caked itself over the years into the fan blades of a used prebuilt msi gaming PC bought from ebay dot com core 2 duo high performance rtx 2.5 tdi 1.6 litre engine top speed of 48.3mph.

[sootsz]

some of the message that etoiles decoded in the resistance base:

“the faulty egg”….. there are Implications to this

[ask-icys-agents]

You said your version of Agent 8 had to fight corrupted copies of the palette sources during Side Order. Who was the hardest fight in terms of difficulty, and who was the hardest emotionally?

(Please don’t tag as romantic shipping!)

Palettes from easiest to hardest difficultly for Samantha:

Marie, Shiver, Violet/3 (Squiffer, replacing Murch’s), Abigail/4, Cherry (Painbrush, replacing Sheldon’s. Cherry is Abigail’s partner!), Pearl, Big Man, Frye, Mike/Neo 3 (N-Zap, replacing Octavio’s), Marina, Callie

Palette from least to most angst for Samantha

Shiver, Big Man, Frye (I’m sorry she has zero attachment to Deep Cut, and didn’t meet them for a long time), Cherry, Mike, Abigail, Pearl, Marina, Violet

Samantha/8’s palette had Order as a final boss- for Samantha, Side Order centered around her taking out corrupt palette users, all having bits of Order’s code, before destroying the main code with her palette!

[molagboop]

I would very much like to infoblast about Raven Beak's powersuit upgrade library with all the optimizations, QoL tweaks, security features, and the myriad integration systems Samus is currently lacking with her babby suit, but alas. Time restrictions.

[alienssstufff]

Have been a bit out of the loop regarding QSMP lore but know that: I told you so☝️

[kakusu-shipping]

Ok I remember seeing a tag on a post about your fnaf s/i being a daycare kid and I wanted to hear more about that!! Also I know you favour a bitchier Sun (positive) than most of fandom and I just wanted to hear about the vibe of your selfship!!

Anon I'm hoping your still around thankyou so much for not only asking once, but asking to make sure your ask was received and then asking again when it wasn't. You dedication to asking about this is appreciated.

Warning; This is one of Regressed Me's Self Inserts so just a general read at your own risk here, bad things happen to little me's S/Is.

Post long, under the cut it goes

This one all starts back when the Pizzaplex was at it's peak. When Foxy, the Daycare's Mascot, when mysteriously missing the higher ups were desperate to get a replacement in fast. They eventually settled on the animatronic from the Theater, which was always just a bonus of the daycare anyway and never pulled in much profit.

The Sun personality was set to watch the kids during play, given basic instructions on how Arts and Crafts are done, a list of rules to enforce, and a very ambiguous code that makes the animatronics "Love Kids" that had also been used with the Glamrocks with apparent success. The Moon personality was originally set to be removed, but when that failed they just loaded him with the Naptime rules and called it a day.

The two were a rush job to fit the criteria of "Daycare Attendant" and had many, many flaws in their coding, caused both by the speed in which they were forced to learn these new rules and the failed attempt to remove Moon shocking their systems.

The two enforced their given rules with upmost strictness, the kind that most kids couldn't keep up with. No talking, no bathroom breaks without permission, no coloring outside the lines, no deviation from the blueprints, Playtime became unbearable. Naptime wasn't any better. Lights go off and you'd better be still and asleep, or at least look asleep. Sun was Mean but Moon was Scary.

Somehow though, the Daycare remained open. Years passed and the kids who once knew of a Red Pirate Fox who'd encourage them to run and color outside the lines aged out, and a new generation of little ones came under the new laws of the Daycare, and time continued on.

As stated, most children couldn't keep up with Sun's strict rules. Most is not all. One shining example of a Daycare Superstar was Emile, a 4 year old Autistic child who was left from open to close at the Pizzaplex Daycare every day without fail. His plethora of undiagnosed mental disabilities meant his coloring stayed within the lines and his toys were always sorted by color, size, and species, while his obvious parental neglect made him an innate people pleaser, willing follow Sun's unreasonable rules to a T in the hopes of receiving even a crumb of praise from the only Authority Figure who'd so much as look at him.

He was Sun's Golden Child, his most favoritest star in the sky, the most perfect kid to ever come to the Daycare. This isn't to say he got better treatment, of course, he still had to wait hours for a trip to the bathroom, and finish all his crafts for the day before he'd be given snack, and lay perfectly still and keep his breathing even during naptime. But he was still the clear favorite. The perfect child. Sun's absolute favorite.

So when Sun was given word the Daycare was being shut down due to complaints from parents well... He couldn't let his golden child be taken from him.

Emile wasn't the first kid to enter the Pizzaplex and not come back out, it helped that his parents barely made it in time to pick him up on time on a good day. The investigation into his disappearance was short and then promptly swept under the rug as the daycare was closed for the time being.

Sun and Moon always had their own secret room. It had old Theater things, unused Daycare objects, extra stock for the Gift Shop, an old arcade machine, broken glass... Everything a child could need!

Living in the Daycare was perfect for Emile, not only was he already use to living by Sun's perfect schedule, he now got to be the soul object of Sun's attention. This was not as great for Sun, as the isolation, just He, Moon, and Emile, finally let him start recognizing the problems in his coding, and the alternate meaning to "loving kids".

He grew anxious by the day, his previously perfect work as a Daycare Attendant crumbling around him. He wasn't perfect. There was something wrong with him. So wrong they'd shut down the daycare. He was imperfect, he was breaking rules just by THINKING like this, rule breaker rule breaker.

Emile, forever locked at 4 as he'd forgotten when his Birthday was meant to happen, became Sun's emotional support. He didn't understand the things Sun said sometimes, he didn't get why it was bad for Sun to hold him, or want to kiss him. He wanted those thing too after all, so it can't be bad! Mr. Sun's an adult, and adults make the rules, and Emile loves to follow rules made by adults.

During the events of Security Breach Emile helps Gregory find the generators, having lived in the Daycare long enough to memorize the layout even in the dark, and knowing all the places Mr. Moon can't go.

However, he still eventually gets caught and carried high into the air by Moon. Gregory runs to the last generator and flips it, the lights flick on just as Moon tosses Emile from the highest point of the Daycare. Sun, now fronting in the light, unclips himself from Moon's wire and dives after Emile. They both hit the ground with a horrible crash.

Sun is horribly damaged, but still manages to pull himself up and kick Gregory from the Daycare before returning to Emile's side. Emile, human and tiny and frail, succumbs to his wounds in the arms of The Daycare Attendant, who in the moment is neither Sun nor Moon but someone who cares not for rules but for the safety of the children in their care. Someone who has failed at their job as a Daycare Attendant, and will not do so again.

During Ruin I imagine the mildly decayed corpse of Sun's golden child can be found at a small table somewhere, with a tea set and stuffed animals in the chairs around him. Sun's coping well when he's fronting I think.

[darkfictionjude]

I'm playing Imre's route but when we are talking outside, when I pick the second or third question it changes to Nia?

Fixed!

[ask-steven-stevenson]

hi boss man, how are you feeling? It’s been a stressful day, can I get you anything?

-💧

“…I’m less.. stressed than before, thankfully! I mean. I’m not really fine. But, I would never put my emotions nor feelings onto my Employees. But, anyways. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you? As a boss..?”

[remember-ur-alive]

pros: found out im objectum :D

cons: found out im objectum D:

[froliginal]

Did Amazon really fucking scam me jfc

[morlock-holmes]

The Conspiratorial Mindset

So, I've always had a bit of an interest in scams and hokum, and what people call "Cults".

One of the common refrains when you talk about religious Cults is, "If you think about it all religions have beliefs that seem odd to outsiders" and this is true, but as I read more about cults I started to think,

"Wait, a lot of these groups aren't united just by having unusual religious or supernatural views; a lot of them also seem to have matching patterns of behaviors that have nothing to do with belief in psychic space aliens"

I'm talking about things like,

Having a leadership structure which is absolute, where the top leaders cannot be disciplined or even openly criticized by lower members;

Exerting tremendous control over the dress and behavior of adherents;

Telling adherents that outsiders are untrustworthy and that contact with outsiders should be strictly limited and heavily monitored by organizational leadership;

The extensive and common use of shunning and reprogramming in response to violation of any of the above rules.

In some groups, failing to adhere to the dress code and spending a lot of time with outsiders is, at worst, the subject of a few little jabs at family gatherings. In other groups, those same behaviors are treated as Defcon one crises and become the central issue of the adherent's relationship with everybody else in the organization until they can be bullied back into doing the organization's bidding.

It was gratifying to learn that other people have noticed these patterns (Some people prefer the term "High Control Group" to "Cult" because it highlights what the actual problem is)

I am starting to notice similar dynamics in what are commonly called "Conspiracy theories".

The thing about conspiracy theories is... Well, conspiracies exist, and sometimes groups of powerful people get together to do something in secret which would get them in big trouble if they were to do it openly.

But I am starting to notice a particular, I don't know, a particular way of conceptualizing the organization and purpose of conspiracies which is unique to some people and which characterizes the kind of conspiracy theorist who takes Alex Jones seriously.

I kind of think of it as a "Witch-Hunting mentality".

For certain people in more primitive times and places, if they, say, slipped off a ladder and hurt themselves, their first thought would be, "That must have happened because a witch cursed me. We need to find and punish the witch who cursed me."

And this isn't just the attribution of malice that characterizes this idea:

One malicious conspiracy that might make you fall off a ladder is a manufacturer who doesn't care about safety ratings. Imagine that the manufacturer is really deliberately malicious here. A subordinate comes to him and says, "Our ladders can't reliably hold the weight of a person and a lot of them will probably break and cause people to fall and hurt themselves." and he says, "I know that but who cares, by the time people figure it out it'll be too late to get their money back."

That's a malicious conspiracy, but, importantly, if Bob buys a faulty ladder and falls off, the conspiracy wasn't trying to hurt Bob; it merely didn't care whether Bob got hurt.

Now, this distinction doesn't take away the malice and hostility towards Bob, but if you go to the ladder manufacturer and say, "Hey boss, Bob bought one of our faulty ladders, but he's really skinny so the ladder didn't break" the manufacturer will go, "Who the fuck is Bob? And good, that's one less angry person."

Whereas imagine Bob's ladder has been cursed to break by a witch. The witch did it because she hates Bob, and wants him to fall, and if she finds out he didn't fall, she'll go, "Curses, I'll have to find some other way to hurt Bob."

Conspiracy theorists, it seems to me, are far more inclined to conceptualize conspiracies as acts of deliberate malice aimed at them rather than acts of negligent malice.

@loving-n0t-heyting posted this article from the New York Post which contains a good example of what I mean:

“I thought I was on the cutting edge of promoting rights for gay people,” Yang said. “But then I started looking deeper into where this was coming from and who was paying for it, and I started to get very disillusioned...

I assume the people paying for it are LGBT advocacy groups? Did you, uh, not know that the people you were working for were paying you to work for them?

“When you really dig down you can see how much of this comes from documents and plans at the United Nations,” Yang said, referring in part to the UN’s “Gender Equality” initiative. “It’s part of a global agenda to restructure society, re-structure our social norms and the economy,” Yang claimed. “They are undermining the sexually dimorphic nature of reality and breaking down the differences between the sexes to break down our identity. They are constructing identities for us and they want us to adopt them.”

Oh, I see.

This is exactly what I mean. LGBT rights efforts make Yang and others feel disoriented, like society is being restructured and that they are being left behind, like they aren't quite in control of social norms and that stable identity categories can't be relied on anymore.

Now, one kind of conservative might look at that and say, "These are bad second order effects of LGBT people trying to assert their lifestyle in public and that's why we should oppose them."

But another kind says, "These changes make me feel unstable. Therefore, the main purpose of the changes is to make me feel unstable. In order to understand these changes, I need to figure out who wants me to feel unstable and what they would gain from making me feel unstable."

The idea that Yang's feeling of instability is simply a side effect of a series of efforts mainly focused on LGBT rights is incomprehensible. Instead, she believes that there is a series of efforts focused mainly on making her feel unstable, with LGBT rights as a kind of side effect to the main goal of making her feel unstable.

This kind of thing is, to me, a big red flag that indicates that we are starting to float away from reasonable conspiracy thinking into crazy town.

I am particularly curious if folks can recommend any writers or researchers who have noticed this dynamic.

[alchemistc]

The voice echoes. He's coming in and out of it, desperate to open his eyes, desperate to make sure he can actually feel all his fingers and toes, but it's hard.

He knows that voice though. He knows he does.

The building hadn't been as stable as they thought it was. Probably in the investigation later on they'll discover building codes not up to standard, faulty evacuation plans. He got the kid out, though. He knows he got the kid out.

Eddie too, he's pretty sure.

".. uck!" The voice yells. It's kind of funny, he thinks to himself, as he can feel the strings of consciousness slipping, how much his name sounds like a curse when you're having a hard time keeping things straight. And then everything fades to black.

---

---

"Buck, please. Just wake up."

He wants to, is the thing. It's not like he's not trying, he wants to tell the voice, wants to be a little petulant about it too. That feels like the right attitude to have, for some reason.

It's hard to breathe. Might be something has him pinned. He'd seen beams falling, he's pretty sure.

"Goddamnit!" the voice yells, and Buck strains to remember. "I can't move this fucking thing unless you're able to get out from under it on your own, so wake the hell up. C'mon. Give me something to work with."

Buck wiggles a toe. Fucking ow.

Fingers, next, and that - that's a whole new ballgame of pain, but holy shit he can feel it all. Jesus Christ it hurts.

"For fucks sake, Evan, I'll take anything, at this point. Please."

Buck's lips suddenly feel a lot less numb. He does know that voice.

Hasn't heard it in three weeks, except for on the voicemail he'd left three months ago complaining about downtown parking for the hundredth time and letting Buck know he was gonna circle the block again, but -

"T- Tommy?"

Buck blinks his eyes open just in time to see Tommy drop to his knees near Buck's head, a relief filled sob echoing around the space. Buck takes the opportunity to stare.

"Hey," Tommy says, breathless, the corners of his eyes wet, his turnouts fully covered in dusty debris. It's an achingly familiar sight, even if he's significantly less sooty than the last time.

"You swear a lot more on the job," Buck notes, and Tommy bites out a desperate laugh, slipping a hand from a glove to reach for Buck's cheek.

"How are you feeling?" Tommy asks, and Buck crinkles his nose, widens his eyes. He laughs again, and Buck - God Buck has missed this but he's still having trouble taking in a full breath and - Tommy pulls a hand away from Buck's neck. "Your pulse is steady. Elevated, but you should be - can you wiggle fingers and toes?'

"Hurts like hell, but yeah."

"Well. A building just fell on you. So that tracks."

Buck takes stock of himself, even though he feels goddamn miserable taking his eyes away from Tommy.

Sure enough, there's a beam barred low across his chest. Definitely at least bruised ribs, if not broken ones. He can't see much over it, but it feels like he's got full, painful movement in his legs. "Tommy, I think my halligan's pinned with me."

He snorts. There's nothing funny about this, but Buck finds himself snorting back, the two of them bouncing off each other until Buck eventually winces at the pressure and Tommy gets himself under control. He's fully crying now, wet fat tears streaked through the dust on his face. "Thank fuck I am also a firefighter," Tommy says, and Buck prepares himself for the moment Tommy gets the tool under the beam at the right angle to lift. "How's your pain?" Tommy asks, when he's situated.

"On a scale from ladder pinning my ankle to lightning strike?"

Tommy scowls.

"I'll be able to move if you make room. If that's what you're asking."

Tommy eyes the space. The beam. The settling dust and the only real angle he's got with enough leverage to make space for Buck to slide himself free. He won't be able to help Buck pull himself out. "The moment you have an inch you move backward as fast as you can. There's at least two yards of clearance behind you, and I'm not dropping this thing on your fucking head by accident."

Buck nods.

Tommy grabs his chin. "Verbal confirmation, Evan," he demands, suddenly so serious Buck has to swallow back a bratty retort.

"One inch, pull myself backwards."

Tommy nods. Situates his hands. "Good." And then before Buck can brace for the pain he's lifting the beam.

It's fast. So fast Buck doesn't have time to scream, or listen to the signals from his brain telling him he's fucking dying. Tommy lifts, Buck scrambles, and he has just enough room to clear his legs before rubble shifts to their left and Tommy's dropping the halligan to roll his entire body over Buck's.

A few broken pieces of concrete roll to a stop before they reach the two of them, and Buck beams up at Tommy. "Little bit of an overreaction, don't you think?"

Tommy settles his weight. Tips his chin so that he can see Buck beyond his visor. "I feel like maybe you aren't taking this as seriously as you should."

Buck shoves a shoulder against Tommy's weight, and he rolls right off, lays side to side with Buck while they both catch their breath. It's such a fucking familiar position that Buck fails to stifle a laugh.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, when he's calmed down enough that Tommy has stopped asking him concussion protocol questions.

Tommy sighs. Turns to his side, and Buck knows this position, too. They never did it in turnouts, though. "They grounded us an hour before the collapse."

"I heard," Buck presses. "I also heard the 217 was working fire suppression on the perimeter."

Tommy looks guilty. He rolls his neck, reaches out under the guise of checking Buck's pulse again.

Buck doesn't stop him.

"Yeah I might be fired," he says, and then shrugs a shoulder. "They called for full evac and when Eddie came out with that kid but you didn't -."

Buck feels a little breathless again. He almost asks Tommy how much he's got in his tank - Bucks's ran out a while ago. But they seem - pretty firmly trapped. Buck can't see an exit point, and he's almost positive there's not enough room for both of them to stand at the same time. They'll need that oxygen. "You came after me?"

Tommy sighs. Seems satisfied that Buck's heart is still doing what it's supposed to, and that he's not leaking internally. When he shifts his hand, it's not away - callused hands catch the underside of Buck's chin, fingers curl over his cheek. "I'd tell you not to read into it, but..."

Buck's breath catches. He holds it. There's - he has no idea how much air they have. They don't have time (or enough air, maybe) for Buck to lean up and kiss him. "Tommy."

"We'll talk about it when we're both safely out of here and bundled in our shiny blankets. If the 118 doesn't kill me first."

"What...?" Buck doesn't know what that means. They did everything they could to convince him not to reach out but they also weren't, like, calling for his head. He wants to know what it means. Tommy's brow goes up.

He shifts to his knees, holds out a hand. "Help me look around. See if we can find an air pocket."

He helps Buck to a kneel of his own like it's nothing, and despite the creaks and groans and the sting of sore muscles, Buck doesn't think there's anything permanently damaged. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It'll keep, Evan."

More than anything, Buck wants to call him out on that. The implication that Tommy knows more about the 118's current feelings on Tommy than Buck does. His name, suddenly back in play like Tommy hadn't used the lack of it to dig the knife in.

Buck shifts his weight and checks for his flashlight. Aims up, first, as high as the beam of light will go. There's really not much room in this little pocket of space.

He can hear Tommy shifting on his knees behind him. They need to be smart. Conserve air, conserve energy. Buck had been near a sidewall when the building came down, but who knows how long it'll take for the building to be stable enough to attempt a rescue. Maybe they're still gonna die in here, after all.

God, he doesn't want Tommy to die.

"Back to Evan, I noticed," Buck comments, doing a terrible job of not sounding eager, and he can hear the heaving breath Tommy takes, the way the shift of his body just pauses.

"The thing is, the moment I realized I might not have any more time, all I wanted was another five minutes. Just to hear you breathe. See your face. You wouldn't even have to know I'd done it, just -." He sucks a breath in through his nose. "I just realized the pain is still worth it."

That spurs Buck into action, because - because they're not gonna die - not here, not now, not for as many years as Buck can squeeze out of this life. He shifts. He pokes. He checks for light beyond the pockets between rubble. He takes even, measured breaths around the rapidly tightening muscles around his ribs and the moment he feels a draft he almost cries.

"Tommy!"

He turns to catch his eye, thrilled, ready to drag him over and -

"Tommy?"

He's slumped on his side. And - and god damnit, Buck is so fucking stupid, he should have checked Tommy too, should have known if he was hurt he'd hide it like the massive asshole he is.

There's nothing obvious until Buck pulls at his turnouts, and then he has to hold in a scream so he doesn't bring the rest of the place down on them.

---

---

The paramedics don't fight him when he shoves his way into the ambulance behind them. No one does, not as he's shoving Hen and Chim away from him while they desperately try to check his vitals, not when Eddie takes one look at the rebar sticking through Tommy's side and his face goes fucking white.

He crashes twice on the way to the hospital.

---

---

Buck comes to slowly, and is immediately pissed, because he's in a fucking hospital bed.

Eddie leans over him when he sits up. "Take a second, man."

"Did you drug me?"

The eyebrow raise is a little condescending. "You passed the fuck out in the middle of the waiting room when they told us Tommy's surgery went well."

Well that's - that's - oh God, Tommy's okay. He remembers now. Tommy pulled through. Tommy was out of surgery and they were setting him up in a room and it'd be a while before he woke up but he was -

"I wanna see him."

Eddie chuckles, and Buck seriously considers throwing something at him, but before he can find something to toss Eddie's leaning sideways in his seat to pull the curtain divider away. "Even the nurses were taking bets that you'd kill a man if they put you in separate rooms."

He'll have to thank Gina later.

Tommy's still asleep. In repose, he breathes deep and even, eyes fluttering behind his lids, and Buck remembers what an active fucking sleeper he is, how much it had infuriated him that Tommy could never remember his dreams. God.

He's bruised around the eyes, there's a clean shave on the side of his head where he'd taken falling rubble in his mad dash past the kid Buck had sent ahead of him. The hospital gown looks so stupid on him.

Buck glares when Eddie tries to wrangle him back under his thin blanket - swings his legs over the side and tries not to wince when he puts his weight down and feels exactly how fucked up his ribs are. The bindings are tight. He's gonna need help rewrapping them.

"Tommy said something about you guys wanting to kill him. Know anything about that?"

It's a little accusatory. A lot, actually. Eddie sighs. "He tried to bring your shit by the station a week later when he knew you were off shift. Chim and Hen weren't, uh ... particularly nice about it."

Buck blinks. He still hasn't gotten any of that back.

"So he just ...took it back? Didn't leave it behind?"

"Oh he took about fifteen minutes of having his head bit off and then grabbed the box and shoved it back in his bed before he left."

Despite how absolutely ridiculous that all sounds, it makes something sizzle under his skin. If it was all just adrenaline, all just heat of the moment panic, Tommy would have left that box anyway.

They know so much and still so little about each other.

He's pretty sure he might actually get the chance to know more now. Even if he has to pry it from Tommy piece by piece for another decade or five.

Buck shoves that thought right down and gives himself the next two days to think about.

"And what'd you do, while they were berating him?"

"Oh, I threw like three loaves of bread in there with your stuff while he wasn't looking."

"You gave him my moping bread?"

"Two of the sourdoughs and an Irish soda bread."

"What if he didn't open the box back up?"

Eddie shrugs. "I hedged my bets. Either he opened that box back up to do his own moping or eventually there'd be some moldy ass bread in there."

"I hate raisins, by the way," comes the croaky voice to Buck's left, and Buck doesn't hesitate to wheel his saline bag the extra foot to reach the bedside. Buck knows that already. He'd made the soda bread out of spite, at three in the morning when he realized the second pillow still smelled like Tommy's shampoo and he'd remembered the almost-argument they'd had about wet hair on the pillows.

Tommy's hand meets Buck's halfway, and his smile is tired and magnificent.

Eddie smirks. "So you opened the box, then."

Tommy doesn't look away from Buck. His fingers squeeze. "I opened the box."

"Eddie, I need you to go distract Gina for like, three and a half minutes."

"...I know I'm going to regret asking," Eddie says.

"Tommy's hooked up to a bunch of monitors that are gonna make some extra noise in a second here, and they've already seen us making out in this hospital, they don't need to be alerted to another free show."

Eddie's out of his seat immediately, and halfway out the door when he turns back. "Just so we're all on the same page, this is not me encouraging this. You two are just walking talking piles of trauma and you can't just kiss about it and suddenly everything is fine."

Buck can taste the bitchy comment on the tip of Tommy's tongue. He squeezes Tommy's fingers and counts himself lucky when all Tommy does is make a dismissive noise in the back of his throat.

It's not like Eddie's wrong.

The door clicks shut behind him.

---

---

Tommy sets aside a third jello cup and stares at the cards in his hand. He glances through his lashes as he sets two cards down on the pile. "Two sevens."

"Bullshit."

His eyes gleam with challenge as he flips them both over and Buck has to take another loss. He doesn't care, is the thing. He'll happily lose at cards to Tommy for the next -

Six months is a reasonable length of time, probably. They've hit that mark once before.

Tommy shifts his weight, grimaces, and Buck is on his feet in a heartbeat. "You need another pillow? Change the angle of the bed?"

He laughs, soft and warm, rolls his eyes. "That joke I made about you guys needing your own ward? You may not have it named after you, but it's practically the Ritz around here. All the nurses have come by like six times just to see if I needed my pillow fluffed. I'm good, Evan." Buck settles back into his seat. "I just have a hole the size of a boba straw in my side."

"It was significantly wider than a boba straw."

"Could still suck a tapioca pearl through it," Tommy reminds him, almost petulantly. It's been a treat discovering that Tommy can throw it back almost as well as Buck when he's ornery about being bedridden for a full two days.

Buck finishes rearranging his cards. Grabs three random ones and sets them atop the pile. "Three eights."

Tommy stares at his cards. Glances up at Buck. Turns his gaze to his cards one more time.

"One nine," he declares, and Buck doesn't even complain that he'd fully let him off the hook there.

---

---

Tommy is actually the worst patient in the world. They have to have Eddie over to wrap Buck's ribs for at least a week, and Tommy refused to take any pain meds home with him, and every morning when Buck fusses with the dressings on Tommy's side Tommy stares in the mirror and complains that the scar isn't even symmetrical to the one on his ribs. Buck spends twenty minutes reminding him he'd have a punctured lung, if that was the case, and that seems to shut him up for a little while, at least.

"Hey," Tommy says, on day eleven, when Buck leans over him on the sofa to say goodbye and head back to the loft. Tommy's fine, really. He needs rest and leaving for the night isn't going to kill either one of them. Still, he tugs at Buck's belt loops until Buck allows a knee to bend and press into the cushion beside him. "This is not me asking you to move in with me."

"What -?"

Tommy presses something into his hand. It's warm, like Tommy's been smoothing it in his palm for a while, grooved along the edge facing Buck's fingers. "Yet," he says, softer than before, watching Buck palm it with a smile that Buck is beginning to fully understand the implications of.

It's a key.

Buck blinks. The years stretch ahead of him. Grumpy grizzled Tommy bitching about the towel rack having too many wet towels on it. Silver fox Tommy grinning over some flirty kids head at Buck as he tries to make it back to the booth they got to the bar early to camp at. Tommy, tomorrow, fondly annoyed when Buck confesses he can't watch another true crime documentary or it'll actually kill him.

"I love you," Buck blurts, and feels like crying when Tommy tugs him close for a kiss.

[loumoonz]

AAAUHSGDH

hello siree, I have an insignificant question about dsaf, because you've been answering some of em. so, in the first dsaf game, when Jack was carrying the corpses toward the dumpster Steven would walk up to him saying he was his favorite employee (if Jack was being cool cat, of course). but I've always wanted to know what he was going to say after he cut himself off ("in fact, I—")... what was he going to say? I know it's insignificant but I'm DYING to know

You have to consider the line that directly proceeds it.

"Look, I know springlock suits are scary, in fact, I-"

He was going to reveal the phone guy springlock-victim connection before he cut himself off.

[numinous-scribe]

Siblings by trial and choice

So @noir-renard posted a prompt in Haunting Heroes a little while ago that's had me in a perpetual choke hold ever since.

When the Portal ZAPS Danny, he doesn't just get turned into a half ghost; he gets catapulted halfway across the galaxy. So now he's stuck on an alien ship, trying to deal with new powers, and desperately searching for a way home.

And my immediate thought was "How can I make this about Starfire?", from which everything spiraled.

[Click the pictures for better quality!]

Having assumed that the portal wasn't even supposed to be functional, Danny had absolutely no basis for anything that was happening to him. Not his new look or powers, not for wherever he was, and certainly not for the predicament of where he landed-- A ship he would later come to know as belonging to the slavers known as the Gordanians.

For all Danny knew, he certainly wasn't human anymore, and he might not have even been in the same dimension either; while Earth had been seeing more and more interactions with aliens, he'd never seen any quiet like these, and his parents had said that the portal was designed to view a whole other world.

And that was terrifying! He was Danny Fenton, just fourteen, and so far out of his depth it wasn't even funny. If it weren't for Koriand'r then Danny didn't know how he would have kept it all together.

As it were, Kor'i had already been enslaved for four years by this point. She knew what it was like to suddenly be cut off from everything she'd ever known, and the torment that was awaiting this strange boy that had appeared in a flash of green light. So even though she had nothing to give, Kor'i stuck by Danny's side.

Together, for the next two years, they fed each other hope.

Naturally, returning to Earth was a big ordeal for Danny, and by proxy for Kor'i as well. Over the two years they spent enduring harsh labor and torture from both their Gordanian captors and the Psions, Danny had confided in all sorts of stories about his home world and vice versa Kor'i about Tamaran. After confirming that he hadn't been transported to another reality, and that this was his Earth, Danny had been so excited to return home and to introduce Kor'i to his friends and family.

But while Earth was still the same, home... was not.

His parents were in jail; not only for their unethical and code violating lab, but because they were so neglectful to the point that minors were able to get into the lab unsupervised and one of them— Danny —was able to access their faulty machine and, presumably, died.

Jazz got picked up by the state, but quickly managed to get herself emancipated and now lived in some other state attending college.

The Manson's moved. Sam was a wreck and not coping well at all; her parents were considering having her committed to an institution for a bit to help her last anyone had heard.

The Foley's couldn't afford to move, so Tucker had to carry on with life as well as he could. He's quiet now, not as verbose and shameless as before, more of a hermit than anything.

And since he's been presumed dead, and can't figure out how to disprove that, honestly, Danny doesn't know how to pick back up where he left off. He can't. Because everything, including him, has changed as well.

But, like she's always done since the moment they met, Kor'i was there for him. And now they have a new family in the Teen Titans as well.

Bonus:

Close ups of Phantom and Starfire. Danny's suit design is a mixture of some of his original concept art and @the-stove-is-on-fire's designs :)

[immortaledd]

HEADCANONS/LORE AT THE BOTTOM!

I needed to tweak my Solar design a little bit to separate it from the show…also to make him a LITTLE less bald. Have some Edd content to fuel your own headcanons and ideas!

Small TIP: I generalize “Eclipse’s” as I will for “Sun’s”, “Moon’s”, etc not because of their Universal Coding. I compare and contrast to show individuality or give context to biology and anatomy.

• Eclipse’s tend to overheat easily.

- This can be from faulty bodies, programming, or overexerting themself. (which is a common trait of an Eclipse.)

- This is why Eclipse’s often show more skin, to keep their vents free for easier cooling.

• Solar’s pants are damaged, so there are straps built into the core of it to help keep them up.

- It’s hard enough finding pants to fit 12 ft tall animatronics, it was even harder when he finally found ones…that were ripped and damaged. Though, because of such, that’s why they fit at all. It was an easy fix.

• Solar’s “split rays” use to look the exact same to Eclipse’s, however, over time in his original universe, he took a lot of injuries.

- Some of these injuries got to his rays, SPLITTING them on the edges. This becomes an appearance choice in the future to show his recovery from his past, and even embracing it.

• Solar has gloves, goggles, boots, and other things - but he prefers to keep them off until he needs them to keep his skin free - and his vents in certain areas.

- Vents are everywhere depending on the models. For those who overheat easily, they have much more than a typical sun or moon does.

- They can be in joints, plate crevices, etc. Most models just use mouths or - if their design permits - noses.

• Glass Animals is Solar’s #1 favorite band.

- He keeps his music preferences to himself.

• Solar’s eyes are the “default” eyes Eclipse’s have.

- Those slits that Eclipse has for pupils? They’re triggered, not at ease.

• Solar’s eye “slit” while at ease is only visible at certain angles, in certain lighting.

- It’s a piece of his eye to help digest more colors and visual information. It’s not an appearance trait.

• TW Disclaimer, none of his scars are self inflicted.

- They come from working, fighting, or accidents.

• Solar loves visiting the beach - normally at sunset.

- The colors of the sky at that time of day is what he strives to feel like everyday.

- Although he easily overheats, he loves feeling warm.

- This man would destroy a sandy hotdog and NOT be affected by the sandy crunch. freak.

• “Solar” is Solar’s first name.

[I had this idea before Solar even existed, the fact “Nice Eclipse” changed his name to “Solar” was a huge green flag for me.]

- Eclipse’s full name IS “Solar Eclipse”.

- Eclipse calls himself by his last name because he doesn’t believe in first-name basis for himself. It’s too sentimental and at the time of having his name chosen, he believed he deserved to be called by his last name - as it is a sign of respect and authority. Nowadays, Eclipse simply hates his first name.

- Solar had similar ideas at first but was still very new to names. It felt wrong for a very long time until he met the Celestial Family.

- He now allows himself to be called Solar to show trust and connection with his family. He believes they don’t deserve to be disconnected from any part of their family, including himself, despite any issues from his past.