#fritz rambles too much

[thermodynamic-comedian]

really, if we tried, we could make philomena cunk a tumblr sexywoman.

[aliorsboxostuff]

bob Floyd x male reader who is quiet and intimidating, only to silently become a guard dog to him

idk I haven't slept, hope this makes sense

OOOOOH THIS TURNED OUT SO NICE TBH I love grumpy x sunshine sm :(( it's such a cute trope uGHHH and writing this was such a trip lmao I loved how it turned out tbh thanks so much for the idea!! so I hope you all do too!

Note: Reader is regarded as Panther for his callsign. The fic is in a 3rd POV.

Stone-Cold

Tags: Robert Floyd/Male Reader, Bob x Male-aviator!Reader, sunshine x grumpy!!, Robert Floyd, Natasha Trace, Bradley Bradshaw, Jake Seresin, Halo, Fritz, Yale, Rest of the Dagger Squad, Maverick, Iceman, Penny, Meet-cute, First meeting, Fluff, Implied smut, kissing, making out, getting together, separation, slight angst, time skips, NOT TOO MUCH THO!, No use of Y/N, slight OOC, Background Icemav, Background Sereshaw, Background relationships, i don't know shit about fighter pilots, only did small research lmao

Bob met Panther, a dark-eyed individual who never even glanced in his direction. But that soon changes when he finally gains his friendship and the two hit it off, flying through a healthy relationship, a falling out, and a reunion. 

—

The first time Bob met Panther was in basics. Panther stood a foot taller than him, with dark eyes that were only focused on the board whenever they were in class. Due to his height, Panther was situated in the back, just two rows behind where Bob usually sits. A suffocating dark air seems to always follow the man, making his classmates, including Bob, avoid him most of the time. It doesn't help that the man barely talks, it's a miracle they even knew his Callsign. 

They say he got it after someone from his old crew saw him in the middle of the night, outside of the building, with glowing golden eyes. Paired with his big build, Bob hopes the Callsign story is nothing but a rumor of some drunken crew that stumbled his way and saw Panther that night. 

It was a usual Wednesday. His class has departed to spend their lunchtime while Bob makes his way to the cafeteria, reviewing the lesson plan inside his head. While he was too engrossed in his little ramblings, he hadn't realized he bumped into someone waiting in the line in front of him. Bob immediately stops and rubs his nose which took the burn of the bump. 

“Sorry!” He quickly musters, realizing he had to incline his head in order to meet the person's eyes, and much to his surprise, it was Panther. The man raised a brow and fixed Bob with a stare that made the shorter pilot gulp. Suddenly, Panther shrugs and turns back around, as if to brush off an insignificant bug. Now that is a treatment Bob is familiar with, so he’s back to looking down into his binder while waiting for his turn.

After obtaining his lunch, he looks around for his usual table, on the far end of the large room. He smiles to himself as he spots it vacant and makes his way to his place. As he sets his tray down, a similar noise follows. Bob raises his head to find Panther, he was the one placing his tray in front of Bob. His eyes widen, panic settling in before he hears the tall man in front of him speak. “Is… this seat taken?”

To hear Panther's voice was a rarity, the man only spoke in class if their instructor specifically asked him to answer. He sounded… Timid—Far from what Bob’s expectation was. The brunette stumbles on his words, finding his voice to answer the man in front of him. 

“N-no, go ahead,” Bob manages a welcoming smile, well, he hopes it was welcoming. Panther nods, and takes his seat and so does Bob. He puts aside his binders and readjusts his glasses, a nervous habit. He finds himself looking at his tray of food, then back to his books, then to the blank table. Bob doesn't know what to do with his hands. Awkwardness surrounds both of them.

“I see you took notes of today's class,” Panther was the one who broke it. 

Bob perks, before he sheepishly nods. “Yeah its, uh- good for review,”

“Do you think… You can explain some stuff to me? I didn't really catch today's lesson…” The taller man looks to his side, then scratches the back of his neck. Behind his glasses, Bob’s eyes lit up, before he smiled and nodded, his hands already on their way to open one of his many binders.

That was the start of Bob's and Panther's friendship. He admits, he never had the best experience with his peers. Most of the time he’s left alone or is only noticed whenever they have a question, no one ever truly became close with Bob. No one’s ever picked on him, that would be childish, but then again—If you pile some humans filled with testosterone in one shower room, there's bound to be some name-calling or stink eyes. Bob has had his fair share of it, never taken it to heart, even if some days it hurts more than it looks. 

But ever since Panther spends his lunch with Bob, the other guys have chosen to leave him alone, even in the shower rooms. No one ever laughed behind his back again, those whispers whenever he was in class or passing by has also disappeared. Panther has spent the better half of his day sticking to Bob, being by his side, going where Bob is going, and only separates when they have different schedules or if he was waiting for his own turn in the rec room while Bob is in training. 

It’s been a couple of months since their initial meeting now. Bob and Panther are well into their flight training program, and are currently leading in their class grade. Two of the best in their class, with Bob having a couple of scores above Panther. 

The clock barely touched 8 PM. Panther was lounging about in Bob’s room, with his roommate being somewhere in the city, no doubt getting drunk between girls, Panther was free to roam in his best friend's room. Bob is currently on his bed, reading something from a textbook while Panther was doing nothing in particular on the floor, his long limbs strewn about. The only thing illuminating the room is the stripes of moonlight and the dim light of Bob's bedside lamp. 

“Hey Bob,” Panther calls from the floor. Bob hums. “Ever thought of getting into Top Gun?” 

Bob tilts his head slightly. He closes the textbook, putting his glasses aside before leaning on the edge of his mattress. “Maybe. Why?”

“Nah, just thought if you wanted to, you could,” Panther grins up to a confused Bob.

“What's that supposed to mean?” The brunette smiles, strands of his fringe falling into his eyes. 

“You’re smart. Smarter than all of us in class, not to mention you’re a half-decent pilot,” Bob chuckles at that, now fully leaning down to meet his friend's eyes. Panther smiles up at him. “I think you’d make it into Top Gun.”

While Bob doesn't have his glasses on, Panther's smile is just as warm, feeling it seeping into his skin. “You smile more around me,” 

Panther’s smile faltered slightly, before he suddenly sat up, supported by his arms behind him, and then they were inches apart. Bob’s eyes widen, finding how close his friend is sitting, he can practically breathe him in. The brunette blinks, swallowing a lump. “That day, the first time we talked, why did you choose to sit with me?”

Panther’s lips are parted slightly. “I just… I knew you weren't as shit as the others,” 

Bob huffs a laugh and Panther mimics it. “Really?” 

“Yeah, plus…” Panther leans closer, his voice drops into a whisper. “You were the only one worth talking to,” 

It happened so slowly. Bob closes his eyes before he feels the man's lips on his, trusting himself wholly to Panther. He feels himself being pushed, his hands scrambling to wrap around Panther's shoulders before he pushes Bob onto the bed and he climbs in himself, lips never parting. He presses and presses, until Bob's lips part and he feels Panther's tongue slips in, which makes Bob groan between their breath and pants. Bob finds himself laid beneath Panther, feeling his friend's hair between his fingers, the solid weight on top of him calms his pestering anxiety. He’s shared a kiss or two, and dated some girls and one boy, but has never gone as far as making out. But despite it all, Panther's mere existence on top of him, caging him in, soothes his worries, and is willing to follow Panther into the long night.

He’s lucky his roommate came back late because he had to kiss Panther goodbye as he sneaked back into his room, not before he heard the man groan from outside his doors; something about his roommate asking questions about last night, which made Bob laugh. 

Before Panther left, they had woken up in each other's arms, Bob had the best sleep he’s had in years. Panther was playing with Bob’s curly morning hair, before the more petite man groans and reaches numbly for his glasses, at which Panther laughs and hands it to him. Once he situated his glasses, he finds himself looking at the man on top of him, a soft smile between those addicted lips. “Morning,” He said.

“Mornin’” Bob drawls, turning to face Panther. He smiles, before pressing a kiss to Bob's temple, which Bob closes his eyes upon feeling it. Instead of pulling back, Panther stays there.

“I hope this isn't a one-time thing,” He mumbles into Bob's curls. The brunette blinks, before he pulls back to meet Panther's eyes. 

“It isn't.” So serious, so sure of his words. Bob was famous for his hesitation, for his timidness in front of his peers, but this. This, he’s confident about. 

Pather’s blank stare breaks into a smile, before he dives back in and smothers Bob with kisses, pulling him right back into his arms, and they spend the rest of the dawn just like that. 

—

Bob graduated on top of his class. Pather follows just behind him, but despite it, they’re both worthy of their wings of gold. 

After their graduation ceremony, after the pictures and congratulations from instructors and family members, and awkwardly meeting Bob’s cheerful parents and myriads of siblings, after meeting Panther's own family, the two finally manage to sneak away. Panther pulls Bob into the back of his Land Rover, the shorter male giggling as his boyfriend smothers him in kisses.

“I’m so proud of you,” Panther smiles, pulling back from his grinning boyfriend. Bob's glasses are askew, a wide smile on his lips. He can feel himself blushing, the steady heat spreading through his cheeks, which makes Panther lean back in to kiss him again. 

They both ended up in the back seat of Panthers Rover, entwined with each other, breathing in lungfuls, a smile on both of their lips. Bob leans to bury himself deeper into Panther's chest, feeling the warm skin beneath his fingertips. Panther hums, his arm pulling Bob closer. His other hand examines the small wing, it reflects the night's shine. 

“What now?” Panther sighs, pocketing the golden wings then turns to his boyfriend. Bob's brown eyes shine with the moonlight. 

“I don't know,” The brunette looks out of the car’s window. “Get assigned a squadron,” 

It would be the next step in their career. Panther has learned that Bob would be aiming to get into Top Gun, and he would be following Bob if he could, always one step behind him. 

Panther turns to face Bob, the aviator picking at his finger. He slowly entwines his fingers with Bob’s, making him glance up to meet Panther's eyes. The taller male softly smiles, moving a stray hair from Bob's eyes. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow,”

—

Two weeks after their Uranium mission, the crew has decided to hang out in the Hard Deck before some of them get shipped out into another deployment. Rooster was busy with Hangman, the two have been getting along ever since Hangman saved Rooster and Mav’s lives. They hung at one of the back tables of the Hard Deck, a bottle of beer in each other's hand. They’re standing awfully close, which makes Phoenix raise a brow.

“Let’s hope they don't break each other's heart again,” Bob snickers, picking at his cashews. 

“You don't want to take care of Roo?” 

“God no, you're lucky you weren't there for the first time,” Phoenix’s face scrunches in disgust, which makes Bob laugh. The WSO has been sticking with his pilot for most of their leisure time, mostly because he didn't know where else to go. Bob supposed he’ll follow where his next mission took him, or hope Cyclone is merciful and put him and Phoenix on the same crew. 

Coyote and Payback are playing pool, along with the others, sometimes cheering one of them on or laughing at a joke or quip the group would say. Maverick said he couldn't join the crew, something about spending his day with Iceman, which they all completely understood and cheered in their group chat. It's a particularly slow day for the Hard Deck, not a lot of patrons on this sunny Wednesday. Penny was conversing with another patron, and overall calming noon washing over Fightertown. 

The doors of Hard Deck chimes open. Bob and Phoenix are engrossed in their conversation, and despite standing on the other side of the bar, they did not recognize the customer that came in. A tall man on his peripherals is the only thing Bob notices before Phee makes him laugh and he’s back to ducking. 

“Hey there, I'm looking for a Bob Floyd?” 

The familiar voice almost gave Bob whiplash as he turned his head. And he thought he'd lost him…

“Panther?” 

The man in question walks past the bar and finds the familiar and comforting blue of Bob’s eyes. The pilot stands from his stool, taking shaky steps toward Panther. 

The last Bob ever heard of Panther was years ago, before his first deployment as they were assigned their own squadron. Bob was devastated that he wouldn't be getting the same squadron as Panther did, but with reassuring parting words, Panther promised the younger pilot that they’d meet again, one way or another. Since then, Bob has been moving from one deployment to another, meeting new people and squadrons, and experiencing different pain and happiness in his life. He got into the Top Gun program, and he met his current friends. He met Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy and the others, but despite it all he had hoped to somehow see Panther again. 

He never considered the man to find him.

“Hey,” Panther's smile is just as blinding as he remembers it. He gives Bob a once over, spotting the outfit Bob is wearing, before he chuckles. “Never changed, huh?”

Bob follows his laugh, finding the courage to reach out to hold Panther's wrist, which makes a steady blush rise to his cheeks. Panthers laugh stutters before he clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck.

“And you never changed too,” Panther's eyes widen a bit, before he breaks into a smile, which makes Bob grin. He brings himself to stand closer to Panther, having to crane his neck to meet the man's eyes. 

“How did…” Bob's question falters, but luckily still understood Panther.

“I found you? Well, word travels fast when you are on the same mission as Captain Maverick,” Panther smirks. Bob laughs, realizing the recent fame the crew got ever since they spent their time with Mav. If you were taught by the legendary Maverick and were on a successful mission alongside him, the story definitely travels fast.

Though, Bob's brow furrows again. “But how did you know I was here?”

“I have my sources,” Panther shrugs, making Bob pat his arm. He's still supporting those muscles that made Bob’s head spin. Bob blinks, trying to hide away his blush by suddenly pulling Panther into a hug, which makes the man laugh and wrap his arms around the shorter pilot. Panther shakes from the laughter as he rests his chin on Bob's head. Bob melts at the sound of the familiar heartbeat, the warmth Panther exudes. 

The two move apart when they suddenly hear the sound of clapping, only to find Hangman walking towards them. “Is that the Panther I see?”

Bob tilts his head, before he feels himself being shifted to stand beside the taller man. “Hangman,” 

His jaw slackens. He has never seen Panther revert back to the stone-cold gaze he once wore back in basics, not even when Bob made a mistake that Panther rightfully got angry about. Yet, right now, he has that exact face while facing Hangman. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when you're back in Fightertown,”

“Never thought I'd see your douchey-ass here again,” Panther retorts. He stands much taller than Jake, though he still has his bite despite the height difference, seemingly unbothered. Jake leans over to look behind Panther's broad shoulders, finding a confused Bob. 

“You knew him?” Jake smirks.

“We were in basics together,” Bob nods, his hand slowly reaching for Panther's arm, patting it softly. “He’s my friend,” 

Panther takes a breath, before sighing and moving aside, turning towards Bob with a frown. “Sorry, my bad,”

“It’s alright, I'm fine, Panther,” Bob smiles, pushing stray strands behind Panther's ear affectionately. 

Unbeknownst to them, the rest of the crew, including Jake, is currently looking at the two with wide eyes and jaws on the floor. Bob wasn't particularly open to touch, in fact—The only people that ever hugged him were the selected few in the Dagger Squad. Phoenix was normally seen with him, and even then she kept her distance with the backseater. And to the extent of Hangman's knowledge, the Panther he knew back in his Fighter Squadron days was a reserved and quiet guy, mostly intimidating with his height and build, but usually kept it to himself.  To see the usually scary man being so touchy with a usually not touchy-feely guy is, to say the least, odd. 

The two spent the rest of the day catching up. Bob has learned that Panther took a different route than aiming for Top Gun, and instead got deployed at some places to teach classes, the main reason why he hasn't been able to visit Fightertown. He also learned the second that he got a whiff of information that a squadron, led by Maverick, has done a successful mission and is still in Miramar, Panther booked the first flight to San Diego. He wasn't expecting to find Bob, he was hoping. 

Panther ended up listening to everything his friend dumped on him. He knows Bob doesn't easily talk, only in short replies, so he’s happy to find him still so accepting to share his life with Panther. He learns about the Dagger Squad, how he's apparently close with Maverick now, and his experience throughout the death-defying mission. Panther, regardless of it all, was glad he had Bob in one piece instead of being invited to the aviator's honorable funeral. He’s proud to hear Bob making new friends, meeting new people, and is especially interested in meeting Phoenix. 

“Oh wait, let me use the toilet, be back in a bit,” Panther places his Whiskey down, patting Bob's back as he heads to the toilets.

Phoenix immediately corners her WSO, sliding up next to him. She stares him down, bewildering Bob. “Who’s that guy and what's his deal?” 

Bob takes a second to blink. “Im- Panthers my friend,”

“He seems more than a friend, Bob,” He knew he was safe with Phoenix. He knew he was safe with everyone, because they aren't like the old folks who glare at any two guys standing too close for comfort. Hell, they have Rooster and Hangman who are currently dancing around each other. But for Bob to tell Pheonix his ‘once boyfriend’ was a bit challenging for him. But he trusts her, and she worries for him. 

“He’s my… Old Boyfriend? We never broke up, but-”

“He left you?”

“No! Phee please,” Bob sighs, readjusting his glasses. “ We got different squadrons and went our separate ways, honestly, it's a miracle he ever found me,” 

The aviator looks down at his glass, the water reflecting his longing gaze. Bob smiles. “I never stopped loving him,” 

Phoenix leans back, away from her backseater. Her eyes find the deep pools of Bob’s blues, having known him well enough to see past his usual awkward demeanor. The pilot huffs, before she looks past Bob and then stands. “I’m sure he feels the same,” 

She passes Bob then, not before patting his shoulder, then walking away. Panther passes by the pilot, the shorter lady giving him a knowing look which makes Panther's brows crease, but he takes his seat again, already turning to face Bob. 

“That’s Phoenix?” 

“Heh, yeah,” Bob answers into his glass as he sips. Panthers swivel back around, finding Phoenix next to Hangman and an unknown man who supports a great porn stache. Panther manages a small smile, to which Phoenix responds with a nod. 

“I like her,” Bob laughs.

—

It was well over closing hour when Penny finally pushed the crew out of the Hard Deck door, saying something about reporting them to Maverick if she had to, which made all of the squad rush out and into San Diego’s cool evening. 

Some piled into Fitz’s car, Halo went with Phoenix on her bike, Hangman is already in Roosters Bronco, which left Bob alone with Panther. The two stay on the bar's porch, watching their friends stumble into their respectful vehicle. Bob spotted the guys fighting over who drives Fitz’s car even though the only sober one was Yale at that point, which made him laugh. Halo was already clinging to a sober Phoenix, clearly babbling about something. 

Throughout the night, Panther has gotten into conversations with the squad. Hangman even offered him a match at pool, which he demolished, leaving Jake to wallow his way to Rooster, so he learned the name of the pilot with the sick stache. Panther felt welcomed amongst them, their sense of family palpable. He finds himself smiling most of the time, which freaked Jake out. And it seems they're on a first-name basis now, which Bob greatly appreciates. 

They watch as their friends pull out of the parking lot, some blasting music, others oddly calm which bothered Bob. He hopes Rooster won't actually break Jake. 

After the dust has settled and their rear lights are far off into the distance, Bob releases a sigh, smiling to himself.

“So, Bob,” Panther turns to him, making Bob tilt his head to match. “I have my Range Rover,” 

“Still the same old?” 

“The one my aunt gifted me, yeah,” Panther laughs, which makes Bob grins. He suddenly grew quiet, looking down into Miramar’s sand instead of meeting Bob. The shorter man furrows his brow, something churns in his gut. Before Panther opens his mouth, Bob beats him to it.

“I don't-” Bob takes a breath. “...What are we?” 

At that, Panther smiles easily. He reaches for Bob's hand, holding them, drawing small circles on the back of the pilot's hands. “I’m your boyfriend, if you’ll take me,” 

Then he brings Bob’s chin close, pressing his lips against him, and it’s back to basics. Back to the old dorms where Bob felt a surge of euphoria. Where he could finally let his walls be undone by the man he trusted the most. He’s missed this. Missed the easy slide of their lips, the comforting scent of Panther, the way his hand slots between the man's broad chest, how Panther pulls him closer by his hips and suddenly he’s weightless. Bob smiles into their kiss, happy to finally regain his spot between Panther's arms. 

Requests are opened! Reminder to reblog!

[fritzes]

thoughts and ramblings and opinions about the indian wells draw:

wta:

despite being the number one seed, iga has a pretty rough draw that is eerily similar to her ao draw. collins, noskova, and of course her nemesis ostapenko are all lurking in her quarter. ons jabeur is also there, but her form hasn’t been great lately and I highly doubt she can get past ostapenko. all that said, indian wells is not the ao. this surface favors iga a lot more, and she won in 2022. plus, she’s coming off of some great results in doha and dubai, so I wouldn’t count her out by any means. it’ll be tough, but it’s definitely not impossible

on the other side of that half, elena’s draw is looking pretty good. she’s the defending champion, but I doubt she’s one to let the pressure of defending get to her. there’s the potential of paula badosa in the second round, but I honestly don’t know if paula is even playing, so that might not matter. there’s no one in elena’s draw that she can’t beat, but her health is always a wild card and if her body doesn’t hold up I could see maybe paolini or haddad maia pulling off the upset. marketa is in this quarter too, but she’s been all over the place lately. if she’s in-form, then I have no doubt she can make a dent but that’s a massive if

coco’s draw is pretty decent. she seems to have mastered playing to her seed and is really good and pulling off a win even if she isn’t playing her best. she had an upset in dubai, but that did give her some time to train and hopefully work out some of the errors. her draw looks fairly simple until a potential meeting with naomi in the fourth round, but I wouldn’t say that’s super likely unless naomi has really made some strides in the last few weeks. I could see naomi losing to samsonova, but you never know! from there, the quarterfinal matchup would most likely be qinwen, which could be a great match of two pretty similar styles

much like the ao, aryna’s draw is basically the opposite of iga’s. the top 10 opponents in her draw are pegula, who just lost a match from a 5-1 lead, and sakkari, who is, well, sakkari. this should be an easy path to the semis, and I’m sure aryna really wants to go deep in this tournament after losing early in dubai

as for the projected semifinals: iga finally got the better of elena in doha, but that doesn’t guarantee victory at all. I think if they do play it’ll be a really close match. if aryna and coco play, I would probably pick aryna to win that unless coco can minimize the forehand errors

interesting round 1 matchups: giorgi/boulter, blinkova/pliskova,

atp:

really easy draw for novak here. he’s projected to meet tommy paul in the fourth round with no big challenges before that, and that’s not exactly a challenging match for him either. in qfs he’ll have one of ruud, norrie, and hurkacz, all of whom he can beat. I think it’ll probably be casper, since hubi’s serve is pretty useless on this extremely slow surface and norrie has been in a slump lately

poor daniil is stuck in an absolute nightmare quarter. he’s got his kryptonite korda in round three and dimitrov in the fourth round. meanwhile, the bottom half of this quarter has rune, nadal, and indian wells fritz, who is generally much better than regular fritz. honestly, anyone could come out of this quarter and face novak in the semis. if daniil makes it, massive kudos to him

jannik has somehow managed to pull rublev in the quarterfinals yet again, which is a match completely on his racket. he will probably play shelton in the fourth round, but ben’s serve will be pretty neutralized on this surface and I have no doubt jannik will take advantage of that. the only thing that can stop jannik right now is himself, so he has to deal with the pressure of being where he is right now. if he does that, then this quarter is his to lose

and finally, the last quarter, which is just as stacked - if not more - as the second quarter. carlos is gonna have a hell of a time trying to defend his title, with faa, khachanov, and jarry all in his section. I would be shocked if the top half of this quarter doesn’t get swept by adm, who is in the form of his life. zverev sucks on slow hardcourts, and I wouldn’t be surprised at draper or griekspoor pulling off an upset. and in the qfs, we could see a battle for jannik’s heart between carlos and alex…

projected semifinals: like I said, I’d be surprised if daniil makes it there, but he’s done crazier shit before so who knows. that being said, if he gets through that draw and has to face an in-form novak on one of his least favorite surfaces, I wouldn’t favor him. however, if novak is in his ao semi form and is playing just okay, daniil definitely has a chance. and of course, the big one, a possible sincaraz match. I love carlos, but I would be really surprised if he managed to beat jannik right now, especially with the injury concerns

interesting round 1 matchups: sonego/kecmanovic, monfils/purcell, raonic/nadal (I can’t believe this is real), van assche/arnaldi

[cult-of-the-placeholder]

Hear me out ok just hear me out! The relics have every manner of crazy capabilities, right? Invincibility, changing size, stopping time, etc. Chemach has warned the lamb in her rambles many, many times not to attempt to bear more than one at once.

But the lamb is young. Cocky. Impudent. Eventually, the temptation gets to be too much and they stubbornly cling onto two during their crusades. It's ok for awhile, but at one point they both reach full charge and they try to activate both at once

The sheer power rips open a tiny tear in the fabric of space time and sucks them in without warning, and they're powerless to stop it. They're dragged into a distant, ancient past, so far from the present it's incomprehensible to them. They don't recognize the landscapes, there's mountains where the sea should be and lakes where the prairie should be, everything is mixed around and wrong.

The red crown is on the fritz; it won't obey their commands to become a weapon or let them utilize any of their favorite curses. It won't do anything, dormant and silent atop their head. It's eye is closed, and it's presence has gone radio silent.

While they're wandering about fruitlessly, they run into an old familiar face: the youngest of the Bishops they slayed, Leshy. But... something's wrong with him. He's tiny, the same size as them, and weirdly round and nubby. His eyes are too big for his face, and his tree branch horns are nowhere to be seen. There's dainty, closed pink flower buds cropping up all over his body, and his crown... it's too big for him. Nearly half the size of his head. He's laying on his belly beside a crystal clear pond, legs kicking in the air and elbows in the dirt, holding his face up. Before him, hsving an animated conversation with her face sticking out of the water, is an exceptionally large red tadpole.

Children. Honest to god children. And very young ones at that.

The two of them both immediately zero in on the lamb, the second they step into the clearing. Leshy gasps and clumsily scrambles up to his feet, one pair of hands slapping onto his chubby cheeks as his eyes sparkle in amazement. Heket does an eager flip and starts doing a happy little frog chirp.

The lamb tries once more to get their crown to respond. A knife, the hounds of fate, anything! But they're helpless as the youngest of the bishops runs right up to them, grabbing them by the shoulders and standing on his tiptoes to peer at their red crown.

"You're like Nari!" He gushes, beginning to drag them forward. "We gots a new brother!"

"Another, another!" Heket cheers from her pond. "Another brother!"

Basically the lamb getting yoinked back in time and, as they bear a Red Crown that's identical to Narinder's, being mistaken as a new god 🤭 the pantheon is now insistent on adopting them as their newest sibling--won't take no for an answer--and Narinder is far from pleased about having to share the realm of death with his new "twin". They've no idea how to escape them or return to their own time, and for now just have to play along.

[wannabeschyulersister]

the slumber party

*no spoilers. gif is not mine. credit to owner*

When you approached Chief Hopper about throwing El her very first sleepover, he really liked the idea. He knew that Eleven didn’t have the most conventional childhood by all means and wanted her to experience fun activities with people that he trusted.

So, you invited Robin and Max to your house along with Eleven one Saturday night. Nancy was invited but the sleepover fell on the same night as her anniversary with Jonathan. She did stop at Family Video earlier in the day to rent some movies that she thought was essential for El to watch.

Now, you were on your living room floor in your pajamas. Robin was braiding Max’s hair and El was flipping through some teeny magazine.

“I know a store that has great clothes like that.” You pointed at a picture.

El’s eyes lit up, “Really?”

You nodded, “I can take you there if you want? We could make a day out of it.”

“I’d really like that.” El said sweetly. You hoped that she saw you as an older sister like Dustin saw Steve as the brother he’d always wanted.

Speaking of Steve, he was very hurt that he wasn’t invited to the slumber party. He didn’t seem to grasp that it was girls only. He mentioned that he was going to call to see how it was going but he hadn’t thus far. You loved spending time with your boyfriend but you needed some girl time.

“How’s school going?” Robin asked Max and El.

Max shrugged her shoulders, “Okay. I guess. I’m trying to figure out what club to join.”

“You could always start your own. That’s what I did.” You suggested, “Since you like music so much, you should try a music appreciation club. Get some friends and make it super fun.”

Max smiled a little, “That sounds like a great idea.”

It warmed your heart to make Max smile. She had been through so much lately. Billy died during the battle at the mall. Her mom was practically MIA. You tried to be there for her as much as you possibly could. Whether it be giving her rides to school or just being there for her to vent to.

Just as you were getting up to grab some more snacks, your lights went out. Robin shrieked a little. “Robin, relax. Our breaker box is on the fritz. I’ll go outside and check it out.”

You made your way to the kitchen as cautiously as possible since it was nearly pitch black. The flashlights were in the drawer right by the kitchen sink. You grabbed three of them and made your way back to the living room.

“Here,” you gave them two and turned yours on.

“I don’t think we should split up. That’s what happens in horror movies and then everyone ends up dead.” Robin said as she turned her flashlight.

“You watch too many horror movies.” Max commented beside her.

“Fine, let’s all go outside to see what’s going on.” You led the way to your backyard with Robin following very close behind you.

“Shouldn’t Eleven be in the front? You know, because she could definitely subdue any type of attacker whether it be a regular person or some creepy thing from another dimension.” Robin rambled on but you all ignored her. She truly had an active imagination.

Once you made it outside, you all went to the breaker box and saw that it had been opened.

“That’s….strange.” You mumbled.

You were about to turn around and head back inside to call your parents when you heard, “AHHHHHHHHHH!”

The sound of numerous voices shouting made you jump. Robin nearly launched out of her own skin beside you.

When you looked to see who the culprit was, you saw Mike, Dustin, Will, Lucas, Eddie (wearing a mask from Halloween) and Steve. They all started laughing at the expressions that you had on your faces.

“You assholes!” Robin smacked the person who was closest to her which was Eddie.

Eddie whipped off his mask, “I’m not the one you should be attacking. It was all Harrington’s idea!”

“Is that so?” You questioned as Steve stepped closer to you. He pulled you into his arms and kissed the top of your head sweetly.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, babe. You have to admit that it was funny.” He grinned.

“Did we scare you?” Dustin laughed.

“I’ll answer your question when my heart isn’t about to fly out of my chest.” Max said with a scowl.

“You know, you’re right,” you said to Steve, “That prank was actually really funny.”

“You think so?” He asked, his arms still holding you close. You could faintly smell the cologne that you got him that he wore just for you.

You leaned up on your toes to kiss him once, “Yes, I do.”

“We were worried that it might have been too much.” Lucas commented.

Mike agreed as he held hands with El, “Steve said you all could handle it.”

“He’s right. Guys, since you’re all here you might as well stay for a while. We’ve got some more pizza and snacks. We can stay in the yard and watch the stars for a while. Us girls will go and get everything.” You suggested hoping that Steve couldn’t be able to tell that you had something up your sleeve. First, you needed the power back on. You went over to the breaker box and flipped the switch back on.

“That sounds like a plan.” Eddie said.

“Cool. We will be right back.” You grabbed Max and El’s hands and lead them inside with Robin close behind.

“Why are we rewarding the guys for their terrible behavior with our food?” Robin asked as you hurried into the house.

“We aren’t.” You told her, rushing upstairs and into the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” El questioned.

You turned to them, “Okay, I was actually planning on pranking you guys sometime tonight but we need payback on what those guys just did. So, I have these.” You pulled out a bucket full of water balloons you hid in the shower.

The girls all started laughing.

“This is the best!” Max exclaimed.

“Alright, arm yourselves.” You grabbed a couple of balloons and so did they. As quietly as you could, you opened the bathroom window that was directly above the backyard. The guys were all still there goofing around. Proud of themselves about the prank they just pulled.

“Three, two, one.” You whispered and you all dropped the balloons.

Yours hit Steve directly on top of his head. El managed to hit both Dustin and Mike. Robin got Eddie twice. Max aimed for Lucas but hit Will. They all started yelling and freaking out.

“Payback is a bitch!” Robin called out as you unloaded the last of the balloons towards Steve.

“Babe! How could you?!” Steve hollered from below.

You laughed, “Looks like you’re having a bad hair day!”

[whereonceiwasfire]

I've had this thought for a bit but haven't quite known how to put it into words, so you're just getting it in nonsensical stream of conciousness fashion I guess, as is tradition. Now let's talk halfas.

I know there are various degrees of "they're not quite human, even in human form" ideas floating around out there, and that stuff is my JAM. Give me a chill in the air when they walk into the room, give me that uncanny valley feeling when they're looking directly at you, give me the eyes that reflect light like a cat's, give me electronics fritzing in their vicinity, give me silent footsteps. I am here for all of it. But I also really love the idea that there's a level of a) how much they embrace the ghost half that factors in, and b) not just gaining ghostly traits, but losing human ones too. Hear me out. A) Vlad is significantly more ghostly than Danny, particularly in his ghost form, right? Blue skin, red eyes, claws, fangs. Like, he's not winning any prizes for subtley, that's all I'm saying. And there are various rationales for this out there too, but for the sake of argument, let's just say it's because he's less resitant to the idea of being a ghost and fights the ghost side of him less. In that case, I love the idea of Vlad being more ghostly just in general. He's not actively suppressing his ghost half, and this bleeds through into his human form, giving him a much creepier vibe than Danny. You maybe couldn't quite put your finger on it, but he's unsettling in a way this fourteen year old dork who's been rambling for 20 minutes about black holes and spagehttification (yes, it's a thing) just isn't. I also am simply trash for giving Vlad sharper teeth, dark circles, eyes that lack that more human warmth, blah, blah, blah, to drive some of that home. None of it is strictly inhuman, but you're definitely getting the impression there's something...wrong with him, where Danny comes across more like your average, definitely-totally-human kid.

B) I looooove the thought that the more ghostly the halfas let themselves become, the more they start losing some of the things that make them human. They need less sleep, they lose their appetite, they have less body heat, their pulse is slower. Maybe some of that human conscience goes silent and those nefarious ghost tendencies start coming out (like, say, a craving for power???) I love this thought so much because this makes the slope even more slippery between Danny (the hero) and Vlad (the villain), which is a *chef's kiss* dynamic. If Danny starts letting some things slide, letting himself lose his humanity just a little bit, embracing his ghostliness to the exlcusion of his human half, giving up some conscience for some power, maybe these other, dormant ghost tendencies could wake up. I mean, we know that stuff is in there, we see it in Dan, there's the implication that the ghost without the human is dangerous, but the thought that you could let one side start to override the other, even while still being a halfa? AND, maybe that's part of the reason Vlad is so cracked? Makes my single braincell feral.

Idk, just some half-baked thoughts because I am procrastinating what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Sorry or you're welcome accordingly LOL.

[pandasan-power]

Zeke is my favourite fictional character. He's just so... fascinating. He's initially presented as weird and mysterious but he turns out to be a giant dork and a huge loser with the most severe daddy issues I've ever seen.

I love him so much. Here's a very long ramble that's kinda sorta a character analysis (it's bad though).

He gives off Reddit mod energy (then again, Eren has Discord mod energy (disclaimer: I love Eren too)), has the sense of humour of a 12 year old, hangs around people who are quite a bit younger than him (granted, his only other option is creepy old military men), has smoked since he was probably like 15 and spends his life "pretending" to be stupid.

And yet he genuinely cares about other people in his own way. He really did just want to make it so that Eldians didn't have to suffer. He assumed that because he had a shit life and was treated terribly (as were his parents), everyone else was in the same boat. It never occured to him that other Eldians were happy, because, like, why would they be?

He's willing to go to the ends of the earth and beyond to fulfill his mission, which he's held on to since he was a teenager. Even though Ksaver did plant the seeds for Zeke, Zeke came up with his plan himself. Ksaver never mentioned anything about reproduction, just that the Founder could be used to alter Eldian biology.

He's devasted when Eren goes "lol jk bro" and betrays him, because he finally found someone he thought he could trust (his first mistake was trusting Eren of all people). He couldn't understand why Eren went against his plan, or what Eren was even trying to accomplish in the first place.

Also, I think it's worth mentioning that Zeke's euthanasia plan undermines everything Ymir Fritz went through. She suffered severely, but I like to imagine that she really did love her daughters to the best of her ability. Zeke saying that Eldians would be better off not existing in the first place and that he's going to get rid of them is telling Ymir Fritz that all her suffering was for absolutely fucking nothing. Whereas Eren wants Eldians to live on, because that way, Ymir can be freed, and she can see that there is beauty in the world (which she did via Mikasa, as badly explained as it was lol).

Zeke never saw that beauty. He was brainwashed and abused and taken advantage of his entire life. By his parents, by Marley (yes, even Ksaver), and, later, by Eren. To him, there was nothing redeeming about the world.

Hence his final line where he talks about what a lovely day it is and how nice/clear the sky is, but that it ultimately is too late to realise that (? I haven't read the chapter in a while, I don't remember the exact wording). That's him acknowledging that he was wrong about the world lacking beauty.

Yes, Ksaver did care for him and did love him, but he did also use Zeke for his own gain. He was projecting his son onto Zeke, as he said so himself in canon, and he was also hoping that Zeke could accomplish what he (Ksaver) wasn't able to. Zeke may not have been as determined to save the Eldians (in his own way) if he hadn't spent time with Ksaver.

Zeke and Eren are fascinating to me, because Eren threw away his humanity in order to save the world/his loved ones, yet was very upset that he had to do so (given his paths convo with Armin), yet Zeke... was stripped of most of his humanity before he had a chance to even embrace it. My personal interpretation is that he never realised he was lacking humanity (which is something Levi kept trying to point out, especially in the forest with reminding Zeke about his Rakago crime) because death and killing were so normalised to him (and to him, his enemies weren't human because they were mostly Eldians and he, as an Eldian, wasn't considered human -- or at least he may have used that as a justification for his actions), and it wasn't until the very end that it hit him.

Lastly, part of why I love the dynamic between Zeke and Levi is that they're two sides of the same coin. They're both admired and feared by people (for different reasons), are traumatised in every possible way, and are similar yet also very different.

When they're interacting, neither of them give a shit about the other's status or powers or whatever. They fight like equals on par with each other and don't hold back. Warchief Zeke? Captain Levi? Nope. They're just Zeke and Levi to each other. (And they'd be friends if they were on the same side, maybe.)

ANYWAY Zeke Yeager is a great character and I love my monkeyman so much. He had such good character development and his backstory is really well done. The "I love you, Zeke" paths scene is my favourite since in all of SnK just for how much that means for both Grisha and Zeke.

[ntls-24722]

Yo hey uh just popping in to say

I love your art style sm omg. The realism cartoony mix scratches my brain so good and your teeth design is just RTZHCJXUXKCBCJXJF

COUGHS anyway have a great day/night!!

REALISTIC????? AFDHSAJBF

THANK YOU!!! though now that you say it I think i see where you come from, as I realize now that much of my DJMMs' faces have significantly more detail to them than my humans

Recent (and, egregious) example: Bighand and Travis

To be COMPLETELY fair, travis was designed completely independently of any DJMM shenanigans but nonetheless I see this with Fritz and Comet too

Maybe it's because since my DJMM's are huge i have the space to add all that detail and since the human characters are super tiny by comparison I... don't have that space?

It could be that I'm just. used to drawing his proportions and his shape that i can fuck around more easily and add all the juicy details? The weirdly far more detailed DJ face is a nod to the fact that DJ is uncomfortably human-looking? It could just be favoritism? Or you're talking about a whole other thing and I'm just rambling nonsense 💀 thank you though!!

[revelisms]

Excerpt: What You Needed

After years, Jinx and Vi are reunited—and starting to make amends.

From ‘heron blue,’ an AU where Vi and Jinx reconnect under different terms. Slow, rocky relationship rebuilding, found family messiness, and political schemings. cw: abandonment issues, dissociation, psychosis, dysfunctional family dynamics Full story on AO3

Her painted fingers clink out a red-capped glass bottle, and hold it stiffly across from her. "You...still like the cherry ones, right?"

Vi takes it from her, slowly, criss-crossed on the blankets across from her. "You bet," she says softly. Her mouth makes a strange twist: not quite a smile. She turns the bottle in her hand. "Still like blueberry?"

Jinx screws off the cap of her own, a glittering spin off the stones. "Uh, yeah—best of the bestest."

The lights hum around them, a pleasant, blitzy static. Jinx draws up her knees, curls her arms around them, and sips. For a long, horrible moment, there's nothing for them to say. Nothing she can get out: the questions stuck in her stomach, in her heart, like lead on her tongue.

Why did you leave me—?

"When...when did you build this?" Vi's looking at the decorations all around them, the paint and the color and glow, with a quiet awe.

Jinx wonders, for a moment, if she means the alcove or the club itself. They'd kept the bones, but rebuilt it all, straight from the ground up. No more smelly storeroom—too many ghosts; all boarded up now. They'd cleaned and sanded and revarnished the floors; painted the rooms, retiled the bathrooms; brought in that beautiful imported glass to bubble around the walls, a new addition to the spaces wholly their own on the third floor, with the same old staff kitchen and storage closets and divots in the walls. 

Jinx shrugs, bobbing her knee. "Oh, I dunno—years ago."

Vi's smiling, now. She looks down at the bottle in her hands: twists off the cap. "I...I missed this, y'know. All your creations."

It lights up something in Jinx's heart, like a little lamp tuned to life. "I—I never stopped, really," she says, a flash of her teeth. "Painted up my room all pretty—oh—I just got this new color in from that big guy in the third district." She props closer, with a brightening grin. "It's, like, the prettiest blue—gonna put it on Whambo. He's gonna be a nail bomb. And I might use it for some details, on Fritz—he's a smoke flare, mostly, but he can double as a firecracker launcher—cool, right? I've been trying to get the combustion ratio right, for ages, but the thing keeps fizzlin' out too early—that old doc's tried to give me equations, but ugh—anyway. Work in progress, Fritz."

And then she's telling her about Jabberwock the ray gun, that she'd engraved with the emblem of a little seahorse—and about the Zing-Dusters she'd built: the respirators they used in the air dispensaries, that she was making a new model of—and the water filtration systems they were going to pilot in the rotted hovels of the Sump, once they got the right treated metals in.

She tells her about Tullo the mechanic, a giant of a man, with hair to his knees and tattoos gaudy as a pirate's, who she gets her imports from. Tullo, who Sevika got in a fight with the other day, after he'd called her arm just for show—and Sevika was a big old ogre, just as awful as ever: she ate blood sausage and grits for breakfast—yeuch!

She's rambling, on and on: the words pouring out of her: a runoff of shaky-laughed, tense-shouldered babbling.

There's so much she doesn't say.

She doesn't tell her about Little Man. She doesn't tell her about the voices in her head, or Mylo or Claggor, or her stuffed rabbit nailed to the wall, or how she spent years and years trying to carve herself in the chasm she'd left behind, not knowing why she wasn't enough, good enough, worth enough to bring her back; or how Silco would find her beating her hands bloody in the old arcade, or how he never laughed, not really, and never, ever cried, except when he talked about Vander, and then he nearly did both; or how, sometimes, when Sevika laid her arm around her, it almost, almost felt like hers—and she does not tell her about how Powder is dead and gone and drowned, drowned in a well, drowned by Jinx's own hands, and Jinx—Jinx is strong, now.

The voices ring through her ears: a pitching, endless drone.

It's too quiet, again.

Jinx swallows, fidgeting. She lifts her eyes from the roof. Vi is just looking at her, looking and frowning, with that burning sort of sadness Jinx hates. She's looking at her, and not saying a word—and for all Jinx doesn't tell her any of that, she is terrified that in some small, terrible way, she knows it, all the same.

"You're quiet," Jinx mumbles. She rips her eyes down, again.

Vi reaches over, wraps her hand beneath her own. "I know—I know. I'm sorry, I'm just..." She huffs out a breath, turning away, staring at the bustle of the streets. "I'm just thinking." She's nervous: her hands heavy and fiddling, so warm over Jinx's own. "It's—it's just..." Vi clears her throat. "It's been so long, I've been—I've been so worried about you."

Jinx scrapes her nail over her thumb. Those words hit something unpleasant inside her—worried about you—plunge a sickly chill in her stomach: a blazing knot of self-disgust, of rage; of sharp, splintered old hurt.

The words trapped in her throat bubble out, before she can stop them. "Why..." They stick like grease on her teeth. "Why did you leave me?"

She knows they cut at her sister. She knows they sting.

Part of her wants them to.

Vi looks down. She weathers her thumb over Jinx's own. "I—I tried to get back to you, I promise." The same as she'd said, before. "I did—but I—"

"You left me." It sounds so pitiful coming out of Jinx's mouth, and she despises herself for it. She yanks her hand out from Vi's own: tucks it under her knee. "I didn't—I didn't understand—"

"I know," Vi hushes. "I know, I—there hasn't been a day I haven't regretted it. Not a single one, from every damned night I was in that cell—but I—I just—" Her shoulders sink. She's looking away, forcing air through her teeth. "I needed time." 

Something blitzes up Jinx's neck: leaves her head twitching.

You're not ready!

She scowls slow at the tiles. "Away from me."

"That's not—"

I told you to stay away!

Jinx scrapes her nails against the stones. "Things changed, when you left." Air shudders against her teeth. She fights the heat broiling in her throat: blinks it quick out of her eyes. "I—I changed," she whispers.

Vi's hands fist between her knees. Something in her turns venomous: like it did in Silco, when someone said something that got under his skin; when he let his words turn harsh and biting, looming over his constituents, a shadow of a monster with red-tipped wings.

"If I'd known you were here," Vi is saying, a low firmness in the words—and Jinx knows where they're going, before she even speaks them; feels her shoulders draw firm as stone. "If I could have—I would have done anything to find you; I would have got you out of here, as soon as I—"

A numbness washes through Jinx's veins.

"Got me out," she repeats.

She feels so far away from herself. Floating. 

She's seeing Little Man, with his hair still short and his arms still gangly: his hand shackled around her wrist, hard enough to crush her, pleading to a girl who didn't exist—Powder, come with me, please—we've found a place in the sewers, away from all of this, where you'll be safe—whatever he's done, I'll make sure he never gets to you, again—

"I don't need you to save me," Jinx bites out. Tension gnaws through her fingers: turns them white-knuckled on her knee. 

Mylo's wrong, Powder. You're stronger than you think.

You're strong, now—just like you were always meant to be. 

She wrenches her head from the words, the memories: Vi's fist colliding with her cheek, Silco's thumb sweeping against it. "I never needed you to save me, I—I needed—"

Because you're a jinx! Mylo was right!

Jinx is perfect.

"Someone else," Vi mutters. Jinx falters, ice in her lungs. Stares wide-eyed at her. Vi is frowning at the green glow beyond them, rasping her thumb against the wrapping over her knuckles. She takes in a hard, gritty breath, and eases it out. "I know," she continues. "I left you, and he—" The look in her eyes turns so strange: bitter, scathing. "He showed up." It's like the words are pulling out her teeth. Her thumb presses hard into her knuckles. "And maybe, that's—that's what you needed."

Jinx tries to swallow. Heat burns and burns in her throat. "You want me to hate him," she tests, prickling with spite. "You don't want me to be here." Flashes of color outside the edges of her vision: eyes and faces and howling words. "You don't like him—you don't like any of them—well, none of you all liked me, either—"

"That's not true—"

Ghosts are picking at her ears and clawing at her arms and too loud.

"—because I—I was just some—some loose screw, screw-up, always screwing things up—shut up!" She wrenches her head into her hands, squeezes it tight, tight between her nails, to keep her skull from splitting open. "Shut up, shut up!"

Vi's looking at her like she's broken, a wind-up toy with all the cogs gone: like something she doesn't know how to fix. Carefully, her bandaged hand lays over her knee. "That's not true, and you know it," she says gravely. The words crack. "We loved you, Powder. Vander, and Mylo, and Claggor—"

"Don't." Jinx seethes it out, feral: wrenches herself away from Vi's burning hand. "Stop." She breathes long, cavernous, heaving. "Stop, don't—I don't want to think about them—I don't want to think about them, I don't—"

Vi closes her eyes, clenches her jaw. "Okay."

"I don't," Jinx hisses again. There's too much color in her eyes, too much noise in her head. 

Vi's holding her. She doesn't remember when she started holding her.

[symerr]

Hiiii we love to be unfashionably late to things, so here's that one oc evolution meme! Featuring OCs that are also alters that are also OCs (you understand). Without further ado...

Fritz [TS3+4 c.2017 -> TS4 2024]

Carter [TS3+4 c.2017 -> TS4 2024]

The ts3 ones are actually bases our partner did, iirc? These two are technically shared ocs between the two of us, but we're the one with the dorks in our head, so we get last say rights lol. I'm going to ramble under the cut about my thoughts on it! :D

I feel like, above all else, we've found a better middle-ground between cartoon-y and realistic sims! Especially with Carter's 2017 sims, he's almost uncanny, I'd say? The eyes feel weird to me at least, but with the 2024 one, I think we figured out how to make him look like he's running on 10 minutes of sleep and 5 coffees without making me worried about him enough to ask him about it pffff.

We keep having repeated phases in our art where we draw people with too much weight or the opposite and there's no middle ground, and that's getting kinda apparent here too, which surprises me! I'd say Fritz' 2017 TS4 sim is definitely not as fat as he should be, while Carter's is too chubby for how he really is? We're still working on hitting the mark for the 2024 ones (Fritz could go a little fatter still and Carter could go thinner), but I think we're getting at least to a point where it's more realistic proportioning! I hope at least, heh...

Also, most notably, we started being more deliberate in our cc, heh. I think the 2017 ts4 sims only have like... Carter's septum as CC (pre-werewolves rip) I think? And the CAS bg of course. The 2017 ts3 sims do use CC, but our partner just... sent us a zip of all the ones she used, so that doesn't really count pfff.

[mable-stitchpunk]

More important animatronic questions: Do like mari and foxy, or anyone else, get like a bath day? Or is it more like spot clean as needed? I can guess ennard and maybe baby have to regularly clean their wires with their eating habits, but like Michael and chance aren't around kids or "eating" (and with michael's propensity to avoid moisture and keep as dry as he can)(and I remember something about chance's music box still being sooty in ghiab- which I'm guessing might help in keeping his programming reflexes in check or something?) This is a rambly mess, but IMPORTANT questions lol

It's kind of an as-needed wipe down. XD Ennard definitely needs to get the wipe-down a little more often than Foxy or Mari, but there are incidents.

Though, worst case scenario, Foxy could pull off his feet and leg padding and head for a deeper cleaning. Mari too is a little more insulated, so water doesn't bother him as much. Ennard would be the one with the most sensitivity and thus, cleaning wipes are required.

Chance is a peculiar case because on the outside he's pretty thick, so you could probably dump a bucket of soapy water over him. The issue is that his insides, due to the fire damage, is a little more sensitive. Cleaning his interior requires a lot of care and in some places, like the voice box, it's sort of impossible to get it totally clean without a full replacement- which Fritz may do if he can find one.

(Though Chance's coughing is not from actual smoke and instead a psychological tick.)

Michael is the unfortunate case where he has to be very careful with what he does. Between the springlocks and the degradation of the suit, there's a handful of risks putting any moisture or chemicals on it unless absolutely necessary. He's a little self-conscious about it.

Hope that answers your question! 8D

[thermodynamic-comedian]

officially identifying as some guy. you wouldn't try to gender just a random guy, would you? i'm literally just some guy. unbothered. serene. living my life. what's gender got to do with it? nothing! just let a guy live!

[orlaite]

What are the most visually beautiful movies you've ever seen?

Oh man this is a difficult one because visually beautiful can mean so many things! Beautiful locations, lighting, production design, blocking, makeup, camera-movement, etc.... So this will get rambly but ty for the ask Taylor!❤️

I'll start with one of the most recent movies I've rewatched and my favourite, favourite director: Days of Heaven by Terrence Malick. I just watched the Criterion 4K after previously having watched it on an old library DvD and man... As soon as the movie came on I could feel that it'd been way too long since I saw a Malick film and that this was the among the best birthday presents I've ever received. The landscapes, the beautiful sunset/sunrise light, the molten steel at the factory in the beginning... I'd say almost all of Malick's films fall under the category of "most visually beautiful movies" ever but Days of Heaven has the sensory and naturalistic feeling of later Malick movies blended perfectly with the controlled and composed cinematography of his earlier Badlands. Riveting and beautiful to watch.

Bernardo Bertolucci was a cursed name in my household after I made me and my friend watch 5 hours of Novocento and neither of us liked it very much so watching The Last Emperor we were both shocked by how good it was; the gargantuan scale and detail of the sets and the beautiful cinematography of Vittorio Storaro was a big part of that experience. Storaro's work on Apocalypse Now is also timeless and and an all-time GOAT.

Ran by Akira Kurosawa is another beauty... I love how carefully composed he makes the natural landscape look and the costumes and sets are wonderfully colorful. Those intermittent shots of clouds are gorgeous and so effective. While I'm talking about Ran let's talk about a movie that he directly homages with the shot of the castle burning down: Die Nibelungen by Fritz Lang. The production design of Die Nibelungen is unparallelled and still holds up 100 years later.

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's The Red Shoes is the most quaint of the movies I've listed thus far, taking place almost entirely on sound-stages and some of them do look a bit dated, but the The Red Shoes ballet itself are the most beautiful, impressive and immersive consecutive 15 minutes of cinema ever created. Period!

The last two movies I wanna highlight are great Epics: Ben-Hur and Lawrence of Arabia. Only Wyler could create a movie as grand as Ben-Hur without losing control and ending up with a cluttered and haphazard visual expression. It's so large, yet so acutely and finely composed, with all those extras in all these gorgeous costumes, and maintains a consistent level of impact and beauty across nearly 4 hours of Biblical Epic. Mad impressive.

And Lawrence of Arabia... Need I say more. Freddie Young's cinematography, the natural and variagated landscape of the desert, Lean's direction and Anne V. Coates' cutting... I'm actually not gonna say more.

[jamesunderwater]

on being unfiltered once more

it's interesting how pre-surgery charles did a lot of social mirroring, and how much that's changed... before, if i got an ask, i'd work hard to reply the way i saw other people reply to things, or based on what vibe i thought the sender would want.

but then the first several weeks after surgery, i literally didn't have the energy to filter or monitor how i interacted with others, so instead I was just fully my chaotic, long-winded, rambling self. and at first i was too exhausted and drugged to even notice let alone care. but then even when i did start to see it, i still couldn't find the energy or even the ability to communicate differently.

now i'm at the point where i'm trying to go back to the mirroring and filtering, but it's like my brain lost the ability to actually do it -- so it remembers that we're supposed to, and can tell what i'm doing "wrong" or need to "fix" in my communication, but when i try to actually express myself in the way i think is more appropriate/desired in the interaction, my brain fritzes. HARD. and that's how i've ended up spending TWO hours at work trying to send one simple email, and taking an hour to reply to a text, etc. so that by the end of the day my brain is so fucking tired from agonizing over every single word i wrote all day, i am almost unable to write a full sentence.

and maybe in another post i'll go into how this is, in essence, exactly what it looks like for a high masking autistic to no longer be able to mask (due to continuous overstimulation/burnout, in this case).

but right now i just wanted to say all of that to say.... i didn't know that i liked the choatic, rambling, long-winded way i like to write and speak. i just knew i had been taught other people don't like it. and i am really kind of enjoying the way that -- at least sometimes, at least here -- i have been liberated from giving so much of a shit.

before all this, i knew in concept that everyone has their own way of communicating, especially writing, and some people will like it and some people won't. i even thought it was really badass when someone communicated very differently than the norm, and didn't seem sorry about it. but, of course, none of this sunk in enough to change my unconscious chameleon training to become whatever kind of communicator people wanted me to be.

but NOW... i've gotten a taste of it. a taste of responding as ME and believing that it's okay if the other person doesn't like how i talk/interact. also helps that my "mirroring skills" are like, comparable to Light Hope in she-ra when her programming was wiped. Which is to say, so low as to be basically useless.

and so thus we witness the return of teenage Charles, who, once comfortable, is not totally dissimilar in energy and vibe to characters like jake peralta, robin buckley, jaskier, shawn spencer from psych... lol NONE of whom are autistic-coded... /j

and yeah. hopefully this becomes a space where i feel safe to practice being unmasked me. so far so good, anyway. and, uh, if you think i'm horribly annoying now.......... i probably already believe that's how you see me, too, so maybe we can both practice not giving a shit either way? 😅

[justalazysam]

hello! i was scrolling and saw your intro and characters

fritz looks pretty fascinating, can i ask abt their lore? (alternatively here’s a ramble card haha)

Thank you so much! Of course you can :D ^^ also warning!: death and torture devices

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Fritz was a girl in the past medieval times who had two beautiful children who she made sure that they had more fun in their years more then her 28 years, she was the kingdom's exorcist who came from france. One day, the town needed her help with a towns demon which, of course, she arrived there. But the entity was more powerful then she thought which unfortunately led up to her fate since she got possessed by the demon and was brutally murdered in cold blood by the spirit itself and the knights arrived at the palace too late. When the king announced her death to the public the town was completely devastated and enraged since they just lost a member of the church, the town quickly turned against the king and demanded that the king get rid of the guards since the guards were so deceiving to the public eye since they promised they would help everyone in the town but they didn't help fritz, like, at all. Shes the only character of mine that isn't traumatized but she still had very very bad times since if anyone in the kingdom mentioned her name they would either get burnt at the stake or would have the flaying which is slow and painful for the unfortunate enough who did that. The kingdom was eventually abandoned after 11 years and they moved on onto a different kingdom but they were still haunted by that incident to this day.

Thank you so much for the ask! :D ^^

[bosspigeon]

well, thanks to the New Fixation, so far i've got Three New OCs to add to the pile...

gonna ramble under a cut!

So far i've got:

Jude! Jude is my Amir boy. He's a big, burly quiet sort, sad eyes, keeps to himself. Metalhead, ofc, bc I Know What I Like. I think he's a mechanic or smthn? He's definitely the type to work with his hands. He likes music too, and he plays guitar, but never really in front of people. He shy 😔

Does not have a great relationship with his family, or many friends either. He's the youngest of three, and has two older brothers. Probably in his early to mid-thirties?

NEXT UP is Fritz! Fritz is a really buttoned-up, straightforward, no-nonsense type... on paper. He plays straight-edge on TV, but under his office job professional demeanor and crisp business casual attire? Tattoos and piercings galore. He's not quite as wild as he was when he was in his teens/early 20s, but he still likes to unwind in a more high-energy fashion that most people would expect.

...He is very much Enjoying A Chaotic Catboy's Company as a Consummate Mori-kisser. Many would say he has bad taste in men, but i think his taste is impeccable and he just likes to have a good time 😤He's also bossy enough to handle himself just fine

AND FINALLY! <3 Larimar. He is so, so, so, so pretty. Unfortunately, he is very aware of this and uses it to get away with Gremlin Behavior. Aging Punk with Peter Pan syndrome, and delights in the trans man curse of looking younger than he actually is. Annoyed that he still gets carded, tho 😒The only reason you can't see the grey hair is because he dyes it bright ass blue. Surprisingly, he CAN hold down a steady job as a stylist!

He is sweet to literally ONE person and that one person is a big ol' slime dilf.