#i think he needs to shift his mindset a bit and work more on actually talking to people

[codgod]

i still feel like the money from the egg figures is gonna go to the eggmins, including lumi and shade and anyone else that has left/been fired [maybe with the exception of like, flippa and tilín’s original admins since they were only there for less than a month but who knows]

like i agree that the way quackity is going about things sucks, with his mindset being that because he doesn’t want to make promises he can’t keep he won’t say anything at all, but i don’t think it means the eggmins won’t be paid. i’d assume, based on what he’s said, that he’s waiting to see how much money the merch makes before he promises anyone any amount of money. which again. is dumb, because if that is the case he could still just Say That. but i don’t think it’s a baseless assumption at the very least

[leggerefiore]

What would the villains call their beloved? Would they have different nicknames for them in bed?

cw: light sex mentions, mostly fluff, Minors DNI

characters: Lysandre, Maxie, Archie, Cyrus, Volo, Guzma

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ Honestly, he calls you too many affectionate names, ranging from his mother tongue over to whatever language you speak. It almost seems as if he has forgotten your actual name at times. Though, when he does call it out, it probably frightens you a bit. It becomes such a rare occurrence that you expect something bad. Lysandre sees no need to change what he refers to you as in public or not, too. The only time he may drop it all together was for anything related to business.

☕️ He tends to lean towards things like “my love” or “my dear,” but “darling” and even “my angel” when he is feeling oddly emotional. Sycamore gives a laugh at all the endearments that he counts whenever you both visit. It is genuinely loving when coming from him, as he rarely feels so strongly and lovingly towards another person.

☕️ In bed, nothing changes too much. He prefers to lather on affection and love wherever he can. Though, oddly, the frequency in which your actual name is spoken increases in more intimate moments. It seems he finds the use of your actual name something deeper than most of the affectionate terms be usually spills out.

“My love,” Lysandre's deep voice called out to you while you were slipping on your shoes to leave. You were shocked to see him home so early. He rarely came home near the midafternoon, often inundated with work or whatever else came up in his professional life. An arm came around you warmly as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and then to your lips. “Where are you going?” You sighed slightly. No where now, you supposed, while leaning into the warmth of his embrace.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 He struggles a lot with endearments. It honestly is a bit embarrassing how he feels trying to think of what he could possibly call you. Maxie felt there was no need for such things. Despite that, however, he found himself with a few to use in private with you. In public, he was much too formal to even dare call you anything but your name. He did not wish to seem overly soft. His reputation as the leader of Team Magma was important.

🪨 Though, as soon as you both are alone, a “beloved” escapes him. He prefers more “formal” affectionate terms. “Dearest” and “my love” are also not so uncommon. Yet, sometimes he does drift to something softer, like calling you “Numel.” He always catches himself after that one, gets flustered, and denies that he even said it. It is a real compliment, rest assured, as he finds the pokemon utterly adorable.

🪨 Maxie does not really use different terms during sex. (Though, “Numel” certainly does not make an appearance there.) There is something a little bit funny about his flustered face and moans mixed with the term “beloved” escaping his lips. Since sex falls firmly in his private time with you, there is no reason for his choice of endearments to change, he feels.

You heard the door click open as you laid on the couch, bored. “I'm home, beloved,” Maxie's voice called out as he entered the room. He had been away all day, busy with whatever his group was doing nowadays. You perked up at the sight of him and rushed over immediately. He flinched as you squeezed him into a tight hug, nuzzling into the knit texture of his sweater. He was so warm. “My, what's this?” the Magma leader chuckled. Shifting out of his work mindset, he allowed himself to embrace you in return. He had come to love you greeting him after a long day of work. “I missed you, too,” he sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to your head. When you gazed up at him with lidded eyes and a tired expression, he had to bite back, mumbling out a “Numel.”

🌊Archie🌧

💧 How many marine and pirate terms can this man use to refer to you? It truly is a mystery as to where he finds all of these terms in his head, but you suppose he was nothing if not obsessed with the ocean. Archie honestly prefers endearments to your real name, clearly a sign of his affection if his calling a certain kid scamp was anything to go by. He nearly always refers to you by some pet name or endearment that has crossed.  Worries do cross your mind that he has actually forgotten your name. (You test him to make sure he has not. Archie was extremely confused by this afterward, but he passed it with ease.)

💧 “Luvdisc” is his favourite term to use overall, clearly enchanted by the association with the pokemon to long-lasting relationships. “Treasure” is another favourite, but somehow gets outshone by the fish. There are also a few “darlin's” that come from him when he tries to change up hos dialogue a bit. Maxie gags at his gratuitous use of the terms around him, but everyone else thinks it is pretty run-of-the-mill for Archie. He is just an affectionate guy, so why would that not reflect in what he calls his lover? You certainly do not mind.

💧 Within the confines of sheets, he does tend to lean more towards the use of “treasure.” He feels a bit to overcome to really even say Luvdisc. Besides, you clearly are a treasure, somehow even more precious than his beloved ocean. There may also be a few more easier terms tossed around, like just straight up “love.” His brain power is going elsewhere in those moments, please excuse him. Though, if he ever uses the term love and you are not heading in an intimate direction, rest assured that you are now.

“Luvdisc,” Archie's voice travelled across the beach with a near terrifying volume. You peeked up from your phone as he rushed to your side. His grin was bright and his form as caught in the hot sun beautifully. His favouritism for a certain nickname for you was always apparent. He squeezed you in a tight embrace, even spinning you around for a moment. “Ah, there's my treasure. Thought I'd lost for a moment,” he let out a sigh. You nearly let one out, too. You were just about to call him, but that was clearly unneeded now. A kiss was shared between you both before settling down on the sands to enjoy the afternoon.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He refuses to use terms of endearment when literally anyone else is around. Cyrus is not one for allowing himself to seem influenced or emotional. While he may love you dearly, there is not a chance he would express that in the sight of other people. It almost becomes expected for your name to called out by the blue-haired man when he wants your attention. It would be a bit depressing if you were not already aware of how restrained he was. There are a few rare moments a more affectionate term slips from him with people around, but that usually is reserved for when he is in distress.

☄️ But, he does allow himself a momentary escape when alone with you. “Beloved” is his go to and typically the only one he ever seems to use. It fits him oddly. Though, he also uses other terms more sparingly. A “dear” and “wife/husband/spouse” are generally used, too. It may seem a bit stiff, especially when paired with how standoffish Cyrus could be, but it was clear from how he unconsciously shifted to them that discreetly showed that he truly cared. No one else gets called by anything but their name by him, after all. You are even allowed to call him whatever you please with people around. His soft spot for you is more than apparent.

☄️ As for in bed… He barely uses different terms. Beloved does seem to be ditched in favour of the convenience that “dear” provides in his stricken state. His brain is not working as he intends it to. He struggles to say a lot during sex usually, anyway, so it is a bit invigorating to hear the affectionate word escape his lips. Though, if he does say your actual name, that either means he is truly overcome with feelings or upset. It is pretty easy to find out which it is.

"Beloved..." Cyrus mumbled out as you nuzzled into his nape. Your arms were tightly around his waist. He had just come home after a few days away due to his plans.

“Beloved…” Cyrus mumbled out as you nuzzled into the nape of his neck. Your arms were tightly around his waist. He had just come home after a few days away due to his work on his plans. You did not say a word as you continued to cling to him. The Galactic Boss knew better than to wonder why you were being so affectionate. Your incomplete spirit begged for you to crave his attention and affection. He sighed. It was not like he could pretend that he was much better. Not when he enjoyed the feeling of your body pressed against his so much. One of his arms came around your waist. “I apologise for being away for so long…” he pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, “Let's enjoy this time we have together.” You finally peered up at him with a loving gaze.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Truthfully, he uses endearments extremely sparingly. There is something that he finds about referring to other people with a term that shows how much you feel about them very uncomfortable. Though, with you, it is quite unfortunate how easy the terms slip off his tongue. Volo supposes a part of it is how obvious he wants to make your relationship to any observers. He would admit he does have a slight jealous schism internally. Of course, he does it for you, too. The blond is fully aware of how much you enjoy hearing him call you such sweet terms.

⭐️ He usually falls into the camp of things like “love,” “dear,” and “darling.” Traditional time-tested things. There is a certain mocking tone he may take after everything is said and done by calling you a “chosen one.” That falls somewhere between a genuine endearment and him being cruel, however. Most people will also get sick with him referring to you as his partner/girlfriend/boyfriend. It is clear to most people paying attention that it some strange from a claiming on his part. Of course, you can only stare at him in adoration whenever he uses them.

⭐️ Alas, Volo definitely drops a lot of his loving facade in bed. His tone can be that of someone filled completely with love or malice, depending on the situation. The terms are the same, but he may also lean more towards sneering out a “chosen one” to vent out some of his frustrations. Just be happy it is with his dick consensually this time and not trying to have Giratina kill you this time around. He may also use a bit more degrading terms, but telling him off usually makes him stop.

“Oh, if it isn't my love,” Volo's voice was recognisable, but especially so when you two met while you were out doing research tasks. His smile was nothing but friendly as he approached you. “Can I interest you in some more pokeballs?” his tone was teasing now. You sighed as tugged on his bag's strap to pull him down to your height. These random run-ins have become more common since you started dating. It was more than obvious he likely had an eye out for you… And was neglecting his merchant duties once again. You could not complain when he pecked a quick kiss to your lips. It seemed you both would be spending a decent amount of time along together in the wilds of Hisui.

🕶Guzma💀

□ This big, bad boss loves calling you whatever pet name he can think of. He literally probably only says your name if he is asking someone else for you. Guzma just does not really see a point in not doing it. He basically calls everyone by nicknames. Except for Kukui, but he is an exception, not the rule. He does not care about whether it is socially acceptable or not, he just does what he wants and isn't concerned with the looks he gets for saying “babe.”

□ He leans towards more casual, modern terms. “Babe” is one of the bigger ones, but he will occasionally bring out a “cutie” or “sexy.” The latter often gets him a few side eyes. A rarer one that seems to only used when he is certain no one else is around is “love-bug.” You try not to laugh at it because you can tell he is trying his best to combine his love for bug-types with his feelings for you. Though, you saw Plumeria choke out a laugh when she heard him say it to you once. It was a bit funny seeing Guzma say such a thing while trying to keep up his edgy appeal.

□ In bed, he does not really change what he says too much. Cutie may not rear its head, but sexy and babe are certainly a plenty. He may even combine if he feels so inclined. Though, it may also be a product of him losing his mental focus in the throes of passion. Your name is occasionally blurted out within the brain-mush of words, too. He is a bit of a mess, honestly.

“Hey, babe!” Guzma's voice stood out among the crowd of people that had taken over the usually quiet route. Rumours about some rare pokemon apparently drew them in, making it annoying to navigate despite needing to. His hand caught your arm as he pulled you under his own, determined not to get separated again. You heard him mumble something about annoying tourists under his breath as both managed to get out of the crowded place. “What the hell is so great about that many Meowths?” he complained, “If they wanna see a collection, I'd be happy to point them to that Kahuna's house.” You chuckled at the thought. Guzma only pressed you more into his side while walking down the route. It seemed like showing you the Wimpod nest would be on hold for today.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Drive all Night

(A/N): This is inspired by the song "Call your mom" by Noah Kahan.

Summary: Max is worried about the sudden shift in his best friends behavior. But he is willing to drive all night to get to the root of the problem.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (little childhood friends to lovers on the side with angst/hurt to comfort)

Warnings: Association to Max's shitty childhood, reader has depression/a depressive episode, implicit mentions of suicide, listen to the song and you get the vibe

Wordcount: 2.4k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

Max Verstappen is not a big worrier. Actually, he is no worrier at all.

When there is something to worry about, he just changes it. If he can’t change it, it’s out of his area of responsibility, so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Thinking like that helped him focus through great challenges. But his mindset wasn’t the only motivator. Through all his highest highs and lowest lows, his best friend has been right next to him, either cheering him on or being the shoulder to cry on he just needed.

(Y/N) and him befriended each other in kindergarten, having felt this unexplainable pull to each other. Ever since playing with Legos together for the first time they had been inseparable if they could help it.

Of course, as they got older and Max’s career in karting took off and (Y/N) had to focus more on school, they started to shift to calling and texting more than relying on in person talking. But that didn’t stop them staying best friends. One might even argue that through their 24/7 updates to each other, they grew even closer.

Meeting in person in their adulthood had become increasingly easier. Sometime (Y/N) travels with Max to several races back to back, being blessed with a remote working job.

The young man starts to suspect something isn’t going smoothly during one of their daily face time calls with her being in her dark bedroom and him in a hotel room halfway across the world. “But enough of how annoying these marketing things are. What did you do today? Except for work of course.” Max just finished another yapping season about the last challenge the social media teams had him participate in.

(Y/N) just shrugs her shoulders while focusing on a loose thread in her shirt. “Nothing much. I reread pride and prejudice.” Max halts a bit in his rummaging through his suitcase, being on the look out for his charger. “I thought you had plans for lunch with a friend? And didn’t you read through that book last week already? You do know that no matter how often you read it, the ending will stay the same.” He jokes a bit.

While still not shifting her gaze towards the phone screen, (Y/N) answers in mumbles. “I canceled on her. I really felt icky today, but we will try to set up another meet up some time next week or so.”

At first Max doesn’t think of it as much. Everyone feels not like socializing every one in a while. But then something else changes. The frequency of their calls and texts.

“...here we can do- Max? Are you even listening to me?” Max gets caught off guard by that question. GP was going over some points with him before starting FP2. “Oh, uhm, sorry GP. Gimme three seconds, I just want to reply to (Y/N). It seems like she didn’t have a great day and I just want to make sure she’ll be alright until I’m out of the car.”

This makes his race engineer raise his eyebrows. “Oh, what happened?” “I don’t know. But she is rewatching one of her comfort shows for the third time in two weeks.” He blinks at the Dutchman. “And in what way is that concerning?”

Okay, voicing his worrisome thoughts out loud like that makes Max realize that the signs are not too obvious for outsiders. But he is talking about his best friend. The person that always makes sure that he won’t go without his needed amount of sleep. The same person he had been having phone calls that resulted in four out of the last seven nights with him getting not more than 5 hours of sleep, if that at all.

For an outsider it doesn’t seem bad for (Y/N) to reread the same books and rewatch the same shows over and over again. Or having her best friend, the person she became emotionally most dependent on, talk with her through her nights.

But for Max, it raises red flags. It hits his alarm bells, ringing out loud that something is majorly wrong. He can’t put his finger on it, not just yet. He is still looking for a way to get her to tell him what is bothering her.

There is a certain uneasiness to Max during that entire race weekend. He is just itching to seat his ass on a plane on his way back to his (Y/N), a friend that he might harbor more than just platonic feelings for. A person that had his back all the time.

To the person he loves the most, that is also struggling the most right now.

He wants to be able to pay her back for all the times she stuck through his darkest times.

But something in him is scared that he isn’t able to get to her in time. “Didn’t you want to go out with a colleague of yours for drinks last night?” Max asks into the phone while speed walking through the airport. Ever since leaving his hotel room on this fine Monday morning, he has been on a phone call with (Y/N).

A sigh greets his ears. “I wanted to, but I didn’t feel like dressing up or sharing a space with a bunch of strangers. I just ordered some food in and watched your race.”

There is another red flag. (Y/N) maybe was never a big socializer to begin with, but she liked going out every now and then. But for a couple of weeks now the only thing Max gets to hear about plans is that she canceled them.

Listening to her just cutting contact with the outside world like that, it doesn’t only worry him. It’s not even scary. It terrifies him.

The two of them continue talking the whole plane ride until (Y/N) falls asleep. Even then Max doesn’t hang up. He still lets the call continue, not wanting her to wake up and feel alone. She doesn’t deserve to feel alone.

No one does. But especially not her.

When he was in karting, some kids gave him grief for winning most of the time. It was difficult for little Max to understand. So do people not want him to win?

It became more confusing to him since some people around him wanted him to win desperately. It hurt him, not understanding the difference of who wanted his best and who wanted to see him fail.

He felt isolated from his peers, especially those who should understand under what pressure he was, because they must feel the same. Right?

During these days, where he rather stopped driving in circles in a very fast manner and just continued playing football, (Y/N) was his only footing. She talked him out of ending his career in motorsport. She painted a picture of his future in the prettiest colors with her words. She gave him something to look forward during these trying times.

And when it got harder before it got easier, she held his hand and reminded him that she will always stay by his side.

Now it’s Max’s turn to show her that he will always stay by her side.

He opens the door to her apartment slowly, trying to make the least noise possible.

Every room is shrouded in what must feel to her like a never ending darkness. The blinds are drawn in front of every window, hindering the tiniest bit of sunlight to filter through. Even to Max it feels like the despair that is in the air will never stop. It is all consuming.

He tiptoes towards her bedroom. There she lays, illuminated by the low light of his phone screen. Curled up tight under a bunch of blankets and between a mountain of pillows and stuffed animals.

The MV lion, the first one that has ever been produced, the original prototype before giving the go for mass production, is held tightly and close to her chest. It pulls on his heartstrings, seeing the comfort it must have brought her while he was absent.

Max kneels down at the head of the bed, gently shaking her awake. “Schatje, come on. Wake up. We got a day of new adventures just in front of us outside the door.”

It’s something they started to say in elementary school. They once read a book in class with the premise that every day is the start to a new adventure. You just have to welcome it in. Back then, when inviting something unknown in your life was considered exciting, not scary or life changing.

“The adventures can wait a day longer.” She mumbles and turns around, trying to shake his hand on her shoulder off. But Max is having none of it.

“The darkness is fooling you. Every light that has been turned off can be turned on.” He gets up and opens the blinds. Sunlight floods the room, and even at the messiest state the young man has seen his best friend, she still is the most beautiful woman on earth to him

(Y/N) lets out a noise of unpleasantness. “Please Max, I can’t deal with it today.”  “No, you will. We are going to deal with it, whatever this it is, together.” He marches over to her dresser and produces a clean set of clothes out of thin air. That is what it looks like to her in this mess at least.

“You are going to shower. After that we will take a drive with no destination.” His words are final and in a tone that makes the young woman drag her limbs and body out of the bed and trudge towards the bathroom, even when the unwillingness is evident by her groaning.

Hearing the shower is Max’s cue to sit down and take a deep breath. He doesn’t know what he expected, but seeing the light of life missing in (Y/N)’s eyes isn’t on that list. It feels like a punch to his gut, witnessing her wither away without knowing from what.

It doesn’t take long and they both sit in the car. A drive without destination is exactly what it says. Just Max driving with (Y/N) sitting in the passenger seat. Usually they used these trips to catch up, to talk about everything and nothing. To voice big philosophical thoughts and dumb brain farts. They started this tradition, that usually includes some sort of fast food, when Max got his drivers license.

But sitting in complete silence for five minutes straight. That is something new.

“You know,” Max breaks it after another seven minutes. “Not talking about it won’t make the problem go away. It also doesn’t hinder it in its existence. Instead it will just get heavier and heavier until you break under the weight.” His dry tone isn’t something she anticipated.

(Y/N) looks out the window, seeing the colorful sunset for the first time in weeks. It’s easy to forget the beauty of the world when your inside thoughts feel like a graveyard. “I don’t want to worry you.”

That admission nearly has the Dutchman emergency breaking in the middle of a street through the fields. “So you play cat and mouse with your feelings because you don’t want to worry me?” (Y/N) nods.

Max lets out a laugh. “So what exactly makes you think that me witnessing you just becoming a shell of who you once were won’t worry me?”

She shrugs. (Y/N) didn’t expect him to catch that something feels wrong in her.

“Schatje. I will always worry about you, You are too important to me to not worry about you. Seeing you wither away in yourself, it made me scared going out on these tracks, sitting down in the car, and wondering if you still breathe while I’m driving another mile. Not knowing what you feel, that worries me more than the truth. Because then we can work on getting you better together. But when you don’t let me in, I can’t help and feel like by just standing and witnessing without intervening that I’m at fault for anything that happens to you. It hurts more seeing you hurting than knowing what you hurt from.”

She turns towards Max, mustering his side profile. She hasn’t thought about how her actions are perceived by her surroundings. (Y/N) just fell into that hole of darkness unexpectedly. While sitting at the bottom of that somber pit, she thought that trying to reach out for help would mean another person gets pulled into it.

If there was one person she doesn’t want sitting next to her in that dark hole, then it is Max. She harbors too much love and affection for him to want him to suffer the same fate as her. So not talking about her darkest thoughts seemed like the best way of keeping him far away from the hole.

But it just drew him in closer.

(Y/N) finally sees what he saw the whole time.

“You know, it’s hard to explain what happened. It takes time to really understand what goes on in me right now.” Max puts a reassuring hand on her leg. “We have all night to talk about it. Help me help you. Let us find a strategy to get you better. May it be medication, meditation, punching me or falling in love with someone. I need you to find a reason to stay with me, physically and mentally.”

She puts a hand over hers and looks Max in the eye for the first time since he arrived. “I already fell in love.”

He doesn’t need to hear more.

Max keeps his promise. He drives through the night, holding (Y/N) to the best of his ability while she cries, curses and explains.

By that not everything is picture perfect again. But it’s the first step. The first one to a future they both want to share with each other. For now and ever, that is enough motivation for (Y/N) to keep going, to continue turning every light on that was off.

[slowestlap]

Bradley Scanes, Max's trainer during 2020-2023 seasons, did an interview with The Red Flags Podcast (22 Jan 2024)

I took one for the team and transcribed the bits I found interesting enough to share:

[12:40] Talking about the first times Brad met Max and how important it is that you click together well:

I think it's the most important. We had a good conversation in that time, I think the decision probably set on the fact that, for half of the time I was there, he was out driving the car. But I was there, talking to his dad, talking to his family. And really got on with Red Bull and really kinda fit into that mold and did for my whole 4 years with him and it was so nice. And I appreciate Max for this, his dad for this and the rest of the family because I felt part of the family the entire time which was really really nice and you know, we'll stay friends.

[24:00] From what I saw, I saw a guy that was elite. He knew where he wanted to go. You could see the drive, you could see the work ethic. The work ethic was tremendous. And for me it was just, I've gotta create the optimal space for him to be him and him to do him.

[27:30] Talking about flexibility and adaptability being the traits that separates greats from the rest:

He's on the grid being interviewed by two or three different tv stations, or something's happening with the car, he gets in the car and drives exactly the same no matter what's going on. And that's for me what I've seen from the kinda good to great.

[28:25] Was it hard to train him this year when he was so far ahead?

No, no. If anything he was more motivated this year than any year before.

[34:55] I feel like you have to be elite at falling asleep. Is Max like "allright time to go to bed" and he's like "okay [snores]"? Can kinda turn on turn off?

Yeah, he's really good at that.

[48:50] On staying motivated to win:

The mindset to keep winning is there. We love winning and it's what we get out of bed for, it's what we do our work for. We want to win no matter what it is. We going to Monza, going to Belgium, we wanna win that race. We want to win every single race and if the championship comes in the end the championship comes in the end. That's the mentality he has. […] The first one was motivated by winning the first championship, the second one was motivated by seeing off Ferrari and making sure we got the second (wdc) and that we're here to stay. And then the third one we were motivated by winning every single race and setting every single record that we could.

[1:14:55] Talking about other drivers posting tough work out videos while Max posted a lighter work out:

That's the thing actually, it's a conversation we've had before because we have the markers where we need to get to. How you get there doesn't really matter. We managed to do it in the most time efficient way, in the most enjoyable way for Max and how it doesn't impact on the other stuff as much. […] He doesn't like working out, everybody knows that. But when he's in the session he gets after it. It's just shifting that mindset, he might not want to do it ever again but there's not too much encouragement needed actually in session which is always nice. It's nice to work that way.

[1:16:10] If Max pisses you off what exercise are you doing to punish him? What's his least favorite?

Single-leg squats or planks.

[1:17:35] How long can Max plank for?

Decent amount of time. I don't actually remember but we must have hit like 4-5 minutes in pre-season test and a bit longer come summer break.

[shadowtriovibes]

take my hand

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, references to consensual sex between minors, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex

Summary: Ominis lets you know he’s ready to go all the way with you, and you quickly realize he likes being told what to do (a.k.a. my “sub-inis” response fic to #dominis)

"That should work, right?" you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. "I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?" "Yes," he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass. He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste. You have absolutely no problem with that.

Ominis Gaunt is simply going to drive you mad.

For several happy, lovely months you've called the young man your classmates jokingly referred to as “Slytherin’s most eligible bachelor” your love. You’ve kissed his plush lips, memorized the sharp lines of his cheekbones with the tips of your fingers, and even draped your legs across his lap while you curled up together in a secluded corner of the Slytherin common room to study.

…Actually study, of course. Because, unfortunately, he’s kind of a tease.

In fact, the real reason he’d garnered his cheeky nickname? Not one of the girls in your year had gotten anywhere near Ominis’ bed, which, by your seventh year at Hogwarts, was admittedly uncommon.

Even when you started bringing him to the Room of Requirement for some additional privacy, hoping to tempt him into some of those intimacies you know he’s never experienced with anyone else, he’s been a perfect gentleman.

Sure, by now you’ve spent many wonderful nights tangled in the sheets with him, kissing him breathless and letting your hands roam as far as you can get away with. But Ominis wants to “take things slowly,” and you respect that.

(You’re slowly going feral over it, but you respect it.)

He takes you completely by surprise one evening when he tells you that he’s finally ready to go further with you. However, when you sit on the edge of your bed with him and ask him to clarify what that means, he balks.

“Whatever you’d like to do,” he insists, noncommittal. “I’m ready.”

“Ominis,” you say gently. “I do think we should talk about this, so we can both be comfortable.”

He bristles. “‘Both?’ You mean me.”

You bite your lip. It’s true that you are significantly more experienced than Ominis, though it’s not something you’ve talked about in great detail with him. You know that you’re his first everything, that he’d abstained from any sort of physical relationship with anyone thus far because he genuinely wanted to be in love with his partner.

You, however, had pretty much done the opposite after the residual trauma of your fifth year left you with a mindset of “you only live once.” You became more and more selective after you eventually realized that, while occasionally fun, meaningless sex didn’t make you feel better about what had happened. The only thing that did was talking about it with Ominis, which is one of several reasons you fell hopelessly in love with him.

“I mean us both,” you insist. “Just because I’ve had sex before doesn’t mean I want to rush into anything either. This is important. You are important, love.”

He softens a bit when you lace your fingers with his, tugging his hand into your lap.

“I just… I don’t know how to talk about this,” he forces out. “And not because I’m posh or repressed or anything like that, but simply because I fear I don’t know what I need to know.”

“What you need to know?” you ask curiously.

“Truthfully, most of what I’ve ever heard about sex is from the other seventh-years,” Ominis admits. “It’s not like I could have those kinds of conversations with my parents, what with the way they are. I suppose if there’s anyone I could have asked, it would be Sebastian.”

You wince a little and Ominis laughs softly, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Don’t worry, I’m not intimidated by the two of you,” he murmurs.

You and Sebastian had been “friends with benefits” (as he’d delightedly called it) toward the end of your sixth year, and thank Merlin you’d been able to maintain your friendship after it had ended.

You wouldn’t dare assume just how much Ominis knows about that fiasco, but the real reason it ended was that the two of you were simply too alike in bed – both far too dominant. Every time you came together, it felt like a duel, which was quite fun at first but quickly became exhausting and left neither of you truly satisfied.

“Well, I suppose you could talk with Sebastian,” you agree. “He’s not, er – he’s knowledgeable enough.”

This time Ominis winces, and you pat his hand apologetically.

“You could also just ask me, you know,” you tell him. “We can talk about these things. What we like, what we don’t like, what we want to do together.”

Ominis shifts closer and presses his shoulder against yours, resting his head against the top of yours. “I know. I suppose it’s just… challenging to feel so ignorant.”

“Love,” you sigh. “You aren’t.”

“I am,” he insists ruefully. “But we can… try new things together, right?”

���Of course,” you tell him, dropping his hand so you can stand between his legs and cradle his chin in your hands to pull him in for a kiss. “As long as you’re sure you’re ready.”

“Very ready,” he murmurs, resting his hands on your waist and dragging them down to your hips, more adventurous than he usually allows himself to be.

“Besides, it’s not as if you know nothing,” you tease him. “I’m sure you know how to make yourself feel good, right?”

Ominis goes red and doesn’t offer an answer, but you don’t need one to know that you’re correct.

“I can show you how I make myself feel good.”

It only falls a little flat when Ominis pointedly asks, “‘Show’ me how?”

It’s only then that you realize Ominis had a fair reason to be nervous. He probably has much less familiarity with the female body than many of his Hogwarts classmates would have had, from studying nude forms in classical Muggle art to the risque illustrations and photographs his male counterparts pour over in secret.

He would have been excluded.

“Right, er…” you mumble, thinking on your feet. “Maybe I could… tell you what I like, and you could do it for me?”

“Do it for you?” he asks, and you blink surprisedly when you realize he doesn’t sound annoyed at all with being tasked with your pleasure.

Honestly, he sounds quite interested.

“That should work, right?” you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. “I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass.

He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste.

You have absolutely no problem with that.

For a while you let him kiss you while his hands roam, letting him refamiliarize himself with the figure he already knows quite well beneath your uniform. Then, while his hands slip underneath your skirt to explore your bare thighs, you strip off your tie, dress shirt and brassiere. He undoubtedly hears the rustling of your clothes as you remove them, but he keeps his hands where they are until you reach down and grab his wrists.

Ominis exhales softly when you press his hands to your breasts, and you hum happily when his fingers flex against your skin.

“Touch me,” you tell him softly. “Not my clothes.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly. “You feel… you’re so soft.”

You giggle and arch your back into his hands, and when he drags his thumbs across your nipples, you lean down and press your forehead to his.

“Not too soft,” you counter.

“Can I… may I use my mouth on you?” Ominis asks hesitantly.

Merlin.

You’ve observed that your love certainly has an oral fixation. You suppose it could have to do with his blindness, but it could simply be a part of him like anything else. Ominis has been known to suck on quills for hours while he studies – the sugar quills from Honeydukes and, regrettably, regular ones as well – which has occasionally been distracting to some of your classmates who are driven to less-than-pure thoughts while watching him redden his mouth.

“Yes, use your mouth,” you breathe, tipping your head back when he brings his lips to your skin.

He doesn’t just immediately suck at you like some of your past partners have done in a rush. He kisses you all over – the curves of your breasts, across your collarbones, down to your navel and back up again. He’s learning you, and it’s making your head spin.

“Let’s move on,” you slur after a while, nearly dizzy from how good you feel with your skirt still on.

“May I?” Ominis asks, reaching behind you for the clasp of your skirt.

You assent and he deftly unclasps it, letting your skirt drop to the floor and leaving you in just your undergarments. But before he can tug them down – and he does try – you pause him by grabbing his wrists once more.

“I am nearly naked, and you’re fully dressed,” you remind him. “Seems unfair, love.”

“Fine,” he says with a bright laugh, leaning back onto his elbows to let you tug his tie loose and pull it over his head. You unbutton his shirt deliberately slowly, treating yourself to each new inch of bare skin you reveal as you work your way down.

When you reach the bottom, you can tell he’s quite ready for you by the state of his trousers, and you deduce those need to go as well. His breath hitches when you unbutton and unzip them for him, coaxing him into lifting his hips for you to tug them down.

After that, you both hurriedly tug off your undergarments and toss them… somewhere, to be sure.

He looks like sin sitting before you, completely nude with his long cock hard in his lap.

“Are you going to show me now?” he asks hopefully, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides.

“Mmm, soon,” you murmur. “I think I want you to show me something first.”

“You – you want to see…?” Ominis asks, his eyebrows raised. “But you know what men like, how we…”

“I know how men get themselves off, yes,” you say, finishing the sentence he lets die on his tongue. “I don’t care about what men like. I want to see what you like.”

“I can’t imagine I’m that unique,” he retorts.

“Then show me because I want to watch,” you challenge, gently pushing on his shoulders so he’ll scoot back and let you straddle his thighs. “I’m asking so nicely, Ominis.”

He exhales shakily and rests his hands on your bare hips. “Well, I usually… I usually have something to – Merlin, I have a salve, so it’s not dry.”

“Let me take care of it,” you purr, lifting one of his hands to your mouth and licking across his palm. He nearly chokes, but he lets you wet his hand for him and wrap it around his cock.

“Touch yourself,” you murmur. “Tell me what you think about when you get yourself off.”

“You,” he says quickly. “It’s always you, kissing you, touching you.”

You watch hungrily as he starts to stroke himself, observing the way he drags his thumb across his sensitive head and squeezes firmly at the base.

“Touching me how?” you encourage him.

“I… like this, touching your breasts, your bare skin,” he whispers. His other hand trails from your waist down to the crease of your hip. “Here too.”

“Do it then,” you whine. “Touch me, feel me.”

Finally, with his free hand he reaches between your thighs, tracing two fingertips along your folds. You’re already wet, and he groans softly before cursing under his breath.

“Let me show you,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to guide his hand.

You shift his hand up until his fingertips are pressed to your clit. “This is one of my favorite places to touch when I’m alone,” you tell him, nosing along his cheek. “Just touching here can get me off, actually.”

“R-really?” he breathes. “But what about… inside?”

“Inside, hm?” you croon. “Seems like you aren’t as ignorant as you let me believe.”

Ominis blushes a little and ducks his head, but he quickly tips his sightless gaze back up to you when you trace his fingertips along your slit to your entrance.

“Here,” you breathe. “If you want to go inside, it’s just here.”

“Can I?

“One finger first,” you tell him, and he’s perfectly gentle as he presses his long middle finger into your body.

You press your lips against his cheekbone and murmur, “Tell me how I feel, Ominis.”

“Warm. Wet, so wet,” he groans. His hand on his cock has gone completely still, forgotten in favor of exploring you with his other hand. “And – tight.”

It’s then that you have a brilliant idea.

“What if I let you use your mouth on me here?” you keen when he drags his thumb across your clit with his finger still inside you. “Would you like that?”

“I can do that?” Ominis asks. “You would want me to?”

“If you’re comfortable,” you tell him, gently running your fingers through his hair to loosen it a little from his daily coiffe. “I’d like to try it with you.”

Stunned, he nods and gently pulls out of you so that you can join him on the bed and lie on your back. Carefully, you drape one leg and then the other over his shoulders as he kneels between the apex of your thighs. You cross your ankles behind his back to coax him closer and onto his elbows, his face inches from where you most want him.

“What, er… how should I…” he asks.

“It’s instinct, love,” you croon, leaning back on your elbows and watching as he leans in a bit more, transfixed by how close he is to you. “I couldn’t possibly tell you, I’ve never done it myself.”

“Has anyone ever…?” he asks suggestively, one of his hands wrapping around your thigh.

“Ever what?” you tease him, utterly in love with the way it makes him blush harder.

“Has anyone else ever used their mouth on you?” he asks more firmly, nuzzling his temple against your inner thigh.

“Mmm, no,” you murmur.

He smirks to himself. “So I suppose I needn’t be worried about being compared.”

“Ominis,” you sigh. “I need you to do something, anything. Just try, I promise I’ll tell you if it’s working or not.”

“Please, tell me,” he requests. “I might not… It’s harder to be sure that I’m doing it right, if you’re quiet.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem,” you reply cheekily.

Without another word, Ominis leans in and presses his tongue to your skin, licking you open with broad, curious strokes of his tongue while he learns the taste and feel of you. You quickly lose your breath as he explores your drenched core.

You gasp sharply when he presses his tongue against your clit, and he quickly asks, “How does that feel?”

“Amazing,” you breathe. “That’s good, Ominis, right there, keep going.”

Ominis simply lights up after receiving your praise, and it makes your heart race adoringly to see how much he loves this – loves you.

He becomes more and more assured as he presses his tongue against your clit, and even without his sight, he couldn’t possibly miss how your legs tremble helplessly when he moans into your body, the vibrations sending you closer and closer to your climax.

He experiments with pressing his tongue inside you as well, and it feels nice, of course it does. But it’s just not as nice as when he’s paying attention to your clit, so without thinking, you reach down and tug on his blond hair to direct his mouth back to where you want it.

This time, when Ominis moans against your clit, it’s not for your benefit.

“Did you like that?” you ask knowingly, twisting your fingers deeper into his hair. Usually it’s so perfectly coiffed, but you imagine by the time you’re through with him, it might look more like Sebastian’s does after Quidditch practice.

“Yes,” he admits, his voice nearly a whine.

“Good. Make me come and you can tell me how else you’d like me to touch you.”

Desperate to finish you off, Ominis first wraps both hands around your thighs and positively buries his face between them, his tongue flicking over and over against your clit. Then he pulls one hand back and presses the tips of two fingers against your entrance.

“Inside?” he asks quickly.

“Yes,” you grit out. “I’m so close Ominis, don’t stop.”

Obediently, he presses his long, thin fingers inside you and curls them how you tell him to, and you only last another minute under his focused ministrations before you come hard, both hands now tangled in his hair to hold him in place until you’re too sensitive to take anymore.

When you finally push his face away, Ominis looks drunk. His mouth and chin are soaked from your release, his pale skin is burning red and his hair is a wild mess.

“So…” he murmurs, dragging a thumb across his lower lip and briefly sucking it clean. “How was that?”

“Don’t be daft,” you laugh deliriously, still staring up at the ceiling. “You’re a natural, Ominis, you get an Outstanding from me.”

He smiles and rests one of his hands on your bare hip, trailing the other up your waist to your neck so he can lean down and kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

However, despite how formal his countenance often is, he’s still a young man – and not a very patient one.

“I believe you said something about touching me now?” he murmurs, kissing down your chin to your neck and gently nipping at your pulse point.

“Mmm, yes, I do think you deserve a turn,” you agree.

You reach down to wrap your hand around his cock and slowly stroke him, earning a choked-off moan and a much less gentle bite against your neck.

“Which would you like, Ominis? My hand, my mouth, or my cunt?”

Ominis curses under his breath – you can tell he likes it when you’re vulgar, despite how often he chides Sebastian for using similar language around their other mates.

He zones out for a moment, considering, so you stroke him harder to bring his focus back to you. “Tell me, love.”

“Your – your body, I want… I want to be inside you,” he admits. “But I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”

“That’s alright,” you reassure him. “It’s only your first time, we’ll have many more times to practice.”

He whines softly and presses a kiss over the bruise he’s worked into the skin below your jawline. “Many more?”

“Focus,” you tease him. “Let’s enjoy this time first, alright? Are you ready?”

You drop your hand from his cock so he can sit back and line himself up against you, and you think that this must be where some amount of instinct kicks in because the juts of his hip bones line up perfectly with the insides of your thighs without so much as a guiding hand from you.

“Good, Ominis,” you breathe, and his cock jumps, its wet tip tapping against his stomach.

He takes himself in hand and presses the head of his cock against your entrance, tracing a line from your hole to your clit and back to learn just where to press in, and then he starts to sheath himself within you.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and you beam delightedly – you’ve never heard him talk like that before.

“That’s it, keep going,” you encourage him. “I can take all of you.”

He’s quite long, but he takes his time with you, slowly pressing in until his hips are flush with your thighs and his arms are trembling slightly as he holds himself above you.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, restraint clear in both his voice and the tense line of his jaw.

You cup your hand against the side of his face and murmur, “Not at all, you feel wonderful.”

“Can I move?” he pleads, and you breathe your yes against his lips.

Even without the muscle memory of a more experienced man, Ominis is a fast learner. He quickly sets a rhythm that has you dragging your hands down his chest and demanding more, harder, faster.

Your heart can barely take it when he simply meets your demands without a word, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you like it’s a gift to be inside you.

“I want to make you come again,” he confesses, leaning down to kiss you wherever he can put his mouth on you – your jaw, your shoulder, your lips. “Can I?”

“Yes,” you breathe, because your first orgasm had left you so sensitive you’re sure you can come again before Ominis finishes.

In fact, you think if you asked him, he’d make himself wait for you.

You slide a hand down your body and start to touch yourself, rubbing your clit the way you know you like when you need a release. You want to be quick – you want him to learn how it feels when you come around his cock.

“Close,” he grunts, his hands fisting in the sheets beside you. “Love, please…”

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, leaning up to nip at his lower lip. “Let me come first, Ominis, I promise it’s worth waiting for.”

“I can’t,” he whines, but you know he can – you can see how he’s straining to hold back, his stomach taut and his arms tense beside your head.

“Just a little more, love, and – ah!” you gasp, because when he sits back just a little – as if trying to physically pull back from falling over the edge – his cock presses against a spot inside you that’s just enough to make you see stars.

It’s barely seconds after you come that Ominis groans helplessly and spills inside you, his thrusts coming to a halt when he feels you become impossibly tighter around him.

You stroke your hands lazily up and down his back while he catches his breath, mercifully not dropping his full weight onto you in favor of gently rolling to the side, hooking your leg over his hip.

“What’s the verdict, then?” you ask him softly, tracing your fingertips along his jawline and smiling at the blissful look on his face.

“We’re doing that again, quite literally as soon as I can,” he pants, and you can’t help but laugh brightly and bury your face against his chest.

“How charming!” you tease him. “That’s it, hm? Have I finally made a monster of you?”

“Without a doubt,” he agrees, pressing his nose to your hair.

[teenandbeyond]

So I saw your headcanons for Bakugou and Aizawa, what kind of boyfriend would Midoriya be?

Midoriya Imagine

What type of boyfriend he'd be

Want more from me? mAsterList

I was just thinking about this when considering him for a love interest for my OC, fortunately for you, this is still fresh on my mind lol

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

An awkward romantic.

By this, I mean he's awkward about his romanticness.

"W-we can share a crepe if you want?"

"Am I allowed to k-kiss you?"

Very shy, even after he's dating you.

Takes you on cute, simple dates. But plans like a pro. Like if the date doesn't work out, he has a plan B, C, D...J, K...

Though he'd be a bit better about shyness once he gets used to you.

Insecure about himself deserving you.

You'll have to assure him when you notice.

He can be kinda hard on himself, including with you. If he feels like he's not doing enough, he will feel suuuper bad.

You will be a priority, but not his first. He can be a neglectful boyfriend sometimes due to him putting hero work first...and sometimes that's all he thinks about.

But he's observant, so after a while, he'll notice.

And he quickly notices when your emotions shift.

He catches on to your ticks, habits, etc.

And writes them down in a special notebook just for you.

Pegs me as the type to track your period if you have one

Like, the day of he'll stop by with stuff and you're like, "Um...how?"

Or if you have hair, he'll have most hair items/products you might've forgotten or needed

Or if you forget to eat in the mornings, without needing to ask he'll hand you a breakfast muffin or something.

I see him being insecure about his scars until you kiss them all and tell him they're beautiful, leaving him flushed red.

Will shyly let you count his freckles if you like.

Once he's comfortable enough, will join in when you do weird stuff.

Whatever it is.

Seriously.

Will make you laugh more often than you'd expect.

Will motivate you to do more in life, but doesn't hold it against you if you don't make drastic changes.

If you have long hair, he will have the urge to braid it.

He gives hair-touching vibes. If you allow him to.

His love languages are definitely acts of service and words of affirmation.

Will happily do things for you.

And will always make sure he tells you how great you are, how much he loves you, etc.

There will be conflict sometimes.

He's reckless and will easily toss his life away for a stranger. You have to tell him he can't do that, he needs to care more about his life, and he has people who need him here, including you.

You think he has such low value for his life due to him being Quirkless and from bullying. So you'll have to help him unlearn this mindset.

If he feels like he needs to protect you, he will distance himself every time.

He's...incredibly protective. One of the rare instances Midoriya will lose control of his anger is when he's protecting those he cares for.

And you never tell him you find it attractive.

He doesn't really get jealous as much as insecure about how he treats you.

"Maybe they might treat [Name] better..."

Once you get past that phase, though, he's okay.

The type of boyfriend to cry because you're crying, even if he doesn't know why you are.

I actually don't see Midoriya as being extremely affectionate but will give it to you based on the level you want.

He melts from your praise.

And takes your opinion almost more seriously than All Might's...and that's saying a lot.

He's patient but un-patient. He can be patient for you, but it takes a lot of effort, he likes to know things, to cheer you up, to make you happy.

DENSE.

Like, he learns as he goes along...but he starts out very dense.

Definitely supportive of what you do, but if it's something he doesn't particularly agree with, he will still voice his opinion on the matter.

I see your relationship being quiet, the little moments matter more...but then other times, you're either chaotic or nerding out.

Midoriya will often nerd out about heroes, so expect that. Like, you could be walking by a hero on the street and his energy will go ⬆

Communication is a must if you want a relationship to work with him. He has a lot of bad habits and he won't know unless you tell him. That, and he needs to get better at communicating himself, he has a hard time with that.

Gamer.

I feel he's a gamer in his free time and gamers can have potty mouths.

So I feel like he'd try to not curse as much around you, but will still let things slip if he, say, bumps his foot against a table or something.

He'd love it if you can do each other's hobbies together, he'd feel closer to you.

[invested-in-your-future]

I have curious to know more about that:

In your version what would Jaune fallout would be?

Would he be an outcast or a you suck speech to be better?

How would the team dynamic be especially after the situation?

If I were to alter stuff in V1-V3, the bully arc would need some significant changes - far too many things in a show are built around excusing him rather than making him confront his flaws.

I think I said most of these before, but if I were to put it into a list.

Starting with the Bully Arc:

DON'T have Pyrrha help Jaune save Cardin and actually show that while his mindset is toxic, Jaune has the conviction to risk it all when pushed - of course, since Pyrrha wouldn't help him there, Jaune would actually get hurt, making the confrontation a bit messier even if the outcome is the same. And Cardin seeing someone like him put his life on the line to save him would likely sting a lot more.

DON'T do the weird "Ursa Grimm like honey" at all - the show has literal bullies prey on people in the forest, and Grimm are attracted to negative emotions - this means we don't get the "harrowing" scene of Jaune throwing honey at people and the whole plot is a bit less silly - and that means Jaune is NOT here because of blackmail or anything - having Jaune risk his life to save Cardin despite him being a bully is good enough as it highlights the qualities needed for being a Huntsmen and there must be no possible upsides to Jaune doing this - Pyrrha won't change her opinion and she is not involved in the fight - there's no benefit for him doing it other than it being his calling.

DO make Pyrrha genuinely angry with Jaune and have Jaune actually openly apologize to her after the Cardin incident and come clean to her.

DO have Cardin threaten to blackmail Jaune, but resolve it with Jaune coming clean to his team first (ALL of them) and then resolving to come clean to Ozpin and co.

DO have Ozpin shrug it off, either when Jaune comes clean or when Cardin decides to rat him out because, to him, the forest events would be all the proof he needed that Jaune has "needed qualifications" - can even throw in some shady Ozpin stuff and imply the teams are the way they are for a reason too.

DON'T have just Jaune and Pyrrha train. DO have the entire team JNPR decide to work spar together and train together to help him and make him regain their trust by putting in actual work to earn his spot.

There's no instant forgiveness or reassuring Jaune that he's great actually - everyone involved agrees that it's a work in progress, but his willingness to come clean and work to be a better person is a good first step. Team building.

Oh look we just got done with Jaune Arc arc of V1 in, like, two episodes instead of four or five.

V2 stuff

Just erase the "trying to woo Weiss" arc for Jaune Arc. Completely. Have the feud be about Cardin shifting targets and fighting Pyrrha in that sparring match and Jaune being unable to stay in his lane when she handled them just fine herself.

Drop the "I can't dance part" from Neptune. How about Neptune, despite his womanizer façade, actually likes guys but thinks it would make him seem uncool if he asked a guy out to a dance. Here, you have an actual LGBT rep two volumes in without "having to build up a relationship", and it ties nicely into the theme of dealing with toxic masculinity and how it affects different people. And we avoid a scene where two guys treat Weiss like an object they own.

It overall also ties better into the cross-dressing segment because it now becomes Jaune basically going - "Look, I learned my lesson, and I am comfortable without stereotypical macho nonsense" to Pyrrha. And it's a message to Neptune that there's nothing "silly" about not adhering to heteronormative "coolness" - oh look, suddenly there's no need for a laugh track of everyone pointing out that a guy in a dress is oh-so-funny in this diverse and accepting world of Remnant. EDIT: also yes monty intended ot to be about him keeping promises but that still works - Jaune regressing at the start by whiteknighting is him faltering on the promise he made to the team on v1 arc of this version - so the message of him reaffirming his promises still remains.

That's just off the top of my head in what could make him more bearable without sweeping his flaws or his forgery under the rug.

There are PLENTY minuscule things to change that would expand upon his characterization in a way that doesn't detract from the actual protagonists.

BUT

Since I am keeping the first three volumes as-is instead, I am treating the Fall of Beacon as Jaune's wake-up call for self-reflection.

Jaune had quite a bit of time to rethink everything that happened in Beacon - what he did or didn't do, what he said, and his overall priorities in life.

Coming face to face with how insignificant he ended up being ironically had provided him with a sense of clarity - everything falling apart allowed him to look at it all from a different angle.

He did not like the person he used to be, and that's where V4r starts - Jaune views his staying at Beacon due to forgery as a debt Jaune can never repay, and he strives to be a better person - actually worthy of that chance. He also understands just how privileged and stupid his behavior during Beacon was.

He has newfound respect for Pyrrha for having put up with him all this time. He also is regretful over how his antics had prevented them from actually exploring what could have been between them till it was way too late.

There's no melting her weapons for himself, no hero's journey for him. After the tragedies that hit Beacon Jaune ended up with a more clearcut understanding of who he wants to be and how he wants to honor Pyrrha's memory, in turn having processed grief in a bit more healthier way than the others.

[olenvasynyt]

I want to talk about my journey with Azriel. And tbh I'm a bit afraid to because I like Gwynriel, but it wasn't always in my head, and I had / have some harsh opinions about him.

When I first read ACOTAR, he was instantly my favorite batboy because I love a broody guy with a dark past. You could tell that was is very sensitive under his cold exterior, and I always really liked characters like that. I also have an OC that Az really reminded me of so before I joined the fanbase, I only saw Az as my OC. It was great. (this is an OC who I have been developing for an embarrassing amount of time and one who I love so deeply I feel like it is a permanent mark on my very soul so yeah. It was great. And it's what makes the downfall of Az so painful for me)

And then I joined the fanbase and got into a group of friends who also loved Az. And I remember me and this group discovered there was a bonus chapter for him!! It was so exciting but we heard there was controversy so we decided to read it together.

And oh my god. The instant switch we all went through...it was actually fucking crazy. I remember I was at work on my break and my friends were just screaming DANA OH MY GOD I HATE THIS DANA PLEASE ANSWER ARE YOU OKAY DID THE BONUS CHAPTER KILL YOU???

It's really hard when you had a certain vision of a character you like and then a single chapter has the ability to destroy it instantly.

None of us in this chat thought about the shipwar or anything. This group was never into that. We just immediately got the absolute ick from Az's POV that it instantly turned us all off fom liking him. And we talked about the shipwars and E/riel vs Gwynriel but we all shared the mindset that both Elain and Gwyn deserved better than Az.

This ACOTAR friend group was heavy into Azris 💀 Because we all were like, "he needs to be fucking humbled and no one can do that better than Eris!!" But that is something I'll delve into later. Plus Az has a habit of supressing emotions until they build up and break and that is one of my favorite tropes when it comes to mlm romances. Shoving away thoughts, having feelings of self-hatred, seeing someone else and hating the way they make you feel, etc etc etc. I can spend ages talking about Azris. The perfect mlm enemies to lovers.

It was so bizarre how quickly my thoughts around him shifted. For a while, he did feel like an incel to me, or a fuck boy, or just a very entitled person. It also got me to see the flaws in other things such as the situation with Mor and how weird it was that he listed after her and tried to declare his feelings right after he rescued her from the Autumn border. That’s weird behavior. And I was always more accepting of Gwynriel before I interacted with the shipwars (and I never liked E/riel or barely thought of E/riel before the shipwars), but again, after ages I was always like ughhhh I like Gwynriel more but Gwyn deserves better.

I disliked Az for such a long time and it was so disappointing because I did really like him from the instant I met him! He reminded me so much of my OC that I've had for ages! But the bonus chapter...

So many of my mutuals and followers on tiktok know this: I don't want a female to heal Az. He needs to be humbled, brought to his lowest point so he can break and open up and heal. I kind of think of Chaol where he was brought to such a low point but he still struggled to open up. And as soon as I realized that similarity, it helped me appreciate him more.

The bonus chapter shown a spotlight on his flaws as a character. But that's the thing: The bonus chapter shown a spotlight on his flaws as a character.

After several rereads, especially my last reread, I again opened up to him because all of those flaws make him so complicated and interesting to read. And all of that on top of his backstory, his struggle with his feelings, his self-hatred and desperation and loneliness...it helps me root for him. I root for him to heal, to do better, to think better about himself, and I hope that he can heal enough to allow himself to have a happy life. He is dark, sad, lonely, angry and envious and reactionary, and all of that makes him so complicated. I personally like to read characters like that. I enjoy reading complex characters. Their low moments can be painful, but you can see hope for him, and the potential future where things are resolved and you get the feeling of such wonderful euphoria.

So I do like Azriel. I do. But I think the flaws and the low moments he has are very important to his character. And they can make you hate him, sure. I definitely experienced that. But if you like him, it is important to point out that those flaws do exist. It what makes him, and what will drive his story.

[clever-fox-studios]

Haven't made a new chapter art in A BIT (sorry)

“I can’t believe she actually sent us outside. What are we, kids?” Moon grumbled to himself, sitting on the grass, knees pulled up to his chest. With mild disdain, he observed Sun as the golden bot did a stretching routine, running pre-performance diagnostics in preparation for whatever he planned to do next. Moon knew this without needing their Lock to tell him, as Sun’s eyes were cycling from teal to cyan to seafoam and back again in line with the check doing its job by micro-adjusting Sun's internal components from idle to show mode.

With a light smile, stretched out on one foot to check his lateral balance, Sun started, “Well, to some degree–” but got cut off by a displeased groan.

“I’m not being technical, Sun,” Moon shot back, elbows on his knees. “I know we don’t have a lot of up time or even a lot of real-world experiences so we might as well be kids, but we’re programmed with the equivalent mindset of an adult. We don’t need to be babysat or told by ‘mom’ to go play outside while she’s in the kitchen.”

Raising a brow, Sun slowly pivoted his hip, bringing his knee up to his chest. “I was going to say to some degree we’re behaving like children.” Moon scowled at him, which only made him grin more and add teasingly, “But I didn’t think you were coming to see Jenn as our mother~”

It was only for a moment, but Sun’s chroma-sensitive lenses detected a hue shift in his beloved brother’s face--from deep navy to rich purple--as the embarrassment hit him. “I do not!” If the chromatic shift didn’t give away his chagrin, the waver of his voice would have.

“Then why’re you so grouchy we got sent outside, oh brother of mine?” Sun extended his leg above his head, then slowly leaned back into a bend before finishing it as a full flip. Once he was on his feet again, he repeated the move with his other leg.

“I just said–” Catching himself, Moon narrowed his gaze toward his brother, whose face was scrunched in a poor effort to hide his amusement. “You’re being a dingus.”

Finishing his second maneuver, Sun changed the last step into a full split, sliding into the grass with barely a sound; he leaned forward, holding onto his knee to provide a pull that would relax his inner impact mechanisms. Stretching wasn’t really something they absolutely needed, unlike human performers, however many high-end Task Managers, particularly those with a focus on physical effort, had a complex system of metal-and-fluid pseudo-muscles under their shells that worked to grant them an immense range of motion and a high strength-to-mass ratio. While delicate and necessitating specialized workers to repair and maintain, these systems have grown more common in recent years due to their ability to double up on and protect the etherylle system that provided power and information to the rest of the body, working incredibly well with tactile sensors and the other micro-adjusting features of modern robotics to give the individuals with them an almost human level of touch sensitivity and action limitation.

The technology itself has been difficult to integrate into human reconstructive body modifications–-or HumCons as some call them-–due to the haptics often conflicting with natural nerve endings, but that wasn’t an issue when all of one’s body was a machine. Because of the intricacy of the systems working together, while not being absolutely necessary, it was advised that pseudo-muscle systems be eased into high-intensity work by ‘stretching’ them. Long, slow, repetitive engagement of the haptic sensors would cause a reaction in the systems that loosened the inner stability membrane, allowing it more flexibility thus increasing the hydraulic tension or torque it could withstand and deliver without seizing or tearing. In a way, it prevented mechanical muscle tearing and enhanced performance quality in a way–-though Sun simply did it out of habit and because he enjoyed the mental quiet it brought him through focusing on his internal mechanics. The steady release of tension at his joints paired with his cyclical exhaust intake was meditative, which he welcomed happily to ease the tension of the days prior, dulling it to a more manageable buzz in the furthest corners of his mental space.

While also enjoying a good stretch and tumble, Moon didn’t intend to join his brother purely out of spite for being told to do so; Jenn was not their owner and a part of him wanted to challenge her authority just on principle by defying her. He knew it was only because he felt he could get away with it–-pettiness was becoming rather enjoyable to express for once-–though the same part of his personality that wanted to be bratty also somewhat welcomed the possibility of retaliation. It would prove he was right and hopefully show Sun that this human, however altruistic she seemed, was no better than the one they ran from. Not worth attachment.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Moon’s attention pulled itself from his internalized moping to focus on Sun, who was still stretching, this time with his legs in a wide V and him nearly flat on his belly in the grass, chin on his forearms. It was such a normal scene to him, Moon almost forgot for a moment they weren’t in the garden at the estate; how Sun was able to relax and go about such a normal activity in a strange place was beyond him at this point. “You could know already if you wanted,” the navy bot answered after a pause, noticing Sun’s eyes had stopped flashing, meaning he was done calibrating and was now just laying like that for his own sake.

“I like it when you tell me.”

Limiting the use of their Lock’s communication features was something they’d agreed on not long after arriving at their designated ‘home’--partly because openly sharing their thoughts and feelings fostered a sense of trust while providing a boundary of privacy between them, and partly because they were chastised heavily for being ‘silent and secretive’ with each other more than once. By now, he knew Sun wouldn’t just pry into his mind without good reason, even if it would make communicating intent between them easier. Huffing, Moon relented. “I know. It wasn’t anything important.”

“You were making a face.”

Moon’s brow creased. “No, I wasn't.”

“Yes, you were.” Sitting up slowly, Sun stretched his back, pulling his legs in so he was seated between his own calves. “You were scowling and staring off into space.”

“I was not.”

“So your face is just like that?”

As if proving a point, Moon scowled deeply, glowering at his brother’s playful grin. “I’m going to get you if you keep that up,” the nocturnal brother warned, subtly shifting his weight in preparation to lunge.

“I stand by my observation,” Sun insisted, pointing to his own face while frowning mockingly. “You’re lucky we can’t wrinkle like a human or you’d have scowl lines.”

“Sun,” Moon urged, trying and failing to keep his expression from twisting into a grin.

“And with your complexion those lines wouldn’t do you any favors–”

A fraction of a second. Sun turned his head for just a moment, barely catching the tell and intent of Moon’s feet rocking him forward; pushing off with his legs, the lanky robot managed to flop out of the way by a hair as his brother’s hands hit the grass. The awkward position did him no favors in keeping balanced; tucking into a backroll, Sun sprang to his feet, smiling brightly.

Moon pushed up with his hands as he came into contact with nothing, pivoting to land on his own feet with a solid thud, already crouched and waiting without giving an opening to be exploited. Bright against his dark facial mold, Moon’s teeth flashed in his own grin. “There’s better ways to get me to play you know.”

“Do you want me to ask?” Sun retorted, watching as Moon began to side step slowly and matching him beat-for-beat.

“It would give me a chance to get ready, at least.”

“But you never need to get ready like I do~”

Moon rolled his eyes briefly, knowing it was somewhat true as he was always quicker to shift into performance mode simply by deciding it, not needing the stretching for anything more than keeping pace with Sun as he got ready. “I still enjoy the activity.” He chanced a step forward; Sun met it with a step back.

“You could have but you decided to mope instead.”

Moon’s weight dipped to one side–-Sun’s eyes darted there, anticipating him to step that way.

Catching the flicker of attention, Moon’s feint was successful–-he swung the other direction, rushing the gap in a single stride. Sun staggered at the change, failing to back away; pivoting on the ball of his foot, Moon gave a sweeping kick with his off leg. Going low, the move sailed over Sun’s head with plenty of distance.

Neither planned to hurt the other. Playful dance-fighting was simply a game.

With his full weight behind it, Moon was able to carry himself over Sun entirely, landing on his feet with another graceful thud. While distracted and back exposed, the daylight bot could only just avoid his brother’s grasp as Moon ducked down and swung at him, palm open, aiming for his head. Reflexively, Sun used his forearm to move Moon’s wrist away and step back again; Moon’s knee came up between them just as Sun shifted back, which got the darker bot to laugh a bit.

“You’ve gotten good at reading me,” he mused, earning a flicker of Sun’s radials in response. “But it’s still not enough to actually keep up.”

The triumphant grin on Sun’s face faded instantly, radials retracting a bit as he saw the shift in Moon’s demeanor-–from the way he balanced his center of gravity to the thin smirk on his lips that replaced the flash of a smile. Another kick–-forward round–-aimed to the head.

Sun ducked by dropping one leg to a crouch; his eyes widened as the attack passed overhead but Moon didn’t carry through, dropping forward in a blink to his hands. Springing back, both feet together, Moon forced Sun to jump again or risk having the entire mass of his sturdier brother driven into him. Barely, the golden bot avoided the collision, landing in a squat.

Without missing a beat, Moon let his momentum drift down, allowing him to sweep a kick out before either had genuinely recovered their balance. Using his hands to catch himself, Sun let the sweep take his feet out before springing back into another crouch and leaping up to make distance. Moon was on him though, having anticipated the recovery move.

Grabbing Sun’s long arm at the wrist and bicep, pressing in the way that his elbow didn’t go, Sun was trapped, forced into a spin as Moon swung him around while he didn't have his balance. This motion let Moon alter his grip while keeping Sun under control until the taller bot was forced into an awkward bend, arm twisted behind him in a way that kept his body off center. Using his shoulder for leverage, Moon pushed two fingers against the nape of Sun’s neck-–the ‘warning shot’ that indicated victory.

“Okay! Okay! I give! I give!” Sun yelped, teetering dangerously as he tried to keep upright under the uncomfortable grip.

Immediately, Moon released his brother, bringing his arm under Sun’s chest to keep the gangly bot from tipping over entirely. Pleased with himself, Moon mused, “Getting better but still not ready for me to be serious.”

Making a face, Sun shrugged, playing up his disappointment at losing. “I still don’t understand when you learned to do that. It’s not like sparring was something we were asked to do.”

Dusting a bit of grass off Sun’s shoulder, Moon shrugged back. “From what I figured, dancing and fighting aren’t that different, it’s just intent. When you touch someone while dancing it’s gentle and non-violent. Fighting is just dancing but you want to hurt the other person.”

Grimacing, Sun’s rays flitted and returned to normal. “If you say so.” He held his hands out. “Do you want to actually dance now?”

The amusement left Moon’s face for a moment. “Sun–”

Flexing his hands in a ‘give’ motion, Sun insisted. “Please? It’s been so long, it feels like. I need to recalibrate, right? It’ll be easier if I have you with me.”

Relenting, Moon sighed, smile returning tiredly. “Alright, you have a point I suppose.”

Delighted, Sun bounced in place a bit, grabbing onto Moon’s hands to drag him into the middle of the yard. Through their link, they could find a melody they both knew without needing actual music. Agreeing on it wasn’t hard, they had a few shared favorites, Moon simply felt uncomfortable in the unfamiliar environment. Dancing took focus which he’d need to keep aware of the area–-not that he was doing that while they tussled just moments ago, which felt good but the persistent eyes he thought he sensed all around were getting bothersome. He was still uncertain how many cameras this area had, how much privacy they were genuinely afforded–-if the human wasn’t remotely observing them when she wasn’t in direct line of sight of them.

If something happened, would he be able to handle it if he was distracted?

Yet Moon couldn’t fight the desire to dance with his brother. To have those few minutes of peace within their own connection. The one thing that was solely theirs. It would strengthen their Lock, which was always their default priority, so it was practical at least.

A snort escaped him as Sun pulled him to the spot in the yard that had been decided on. Practical.

When did he start needing to justify dancing as practical ?

~

Under the clattering of dishes and utensils a hum bounced through the air, occasionally broken up by rhythmic popping and tongue clicking. It wasn’t without method or reason but to an observer they would only hear the odd sounds coming from the human unprompted, her ears covered by blue headphones that dampened outside noise while masking the music she was wrapped up in. In an effort to calm her own mind, Jenn opted to drown her thoughts out by burying them in her musical library, willfully putting herself into a state of forced focus that ignored everything outside her immediate task. Too many things needed to be accounted for, too many details begged for her to rip them apart into molecular detail–-Jenn had to stop herself before she got overwhelmed by her own bad habits.

She would help them. They would leave. Back to normal. Clear conscience.

Over and over she told herself that whenever her mind strayed to questions. While she hated not having answers, by this point the loner human had determined anything more was a hazard to her safety. In this rare instance, the less she knew, the safer she would be.

I still want to know though, the echo of her thoughts purred, tempting her to the rabbit hole of barbed wire and glue.

Shaking her head to clear it, Jenn focused on the lyrics of the song that currently vibrated her skull, hands working to chop up starchy roots for drying. Under her breath, she sang along, working through her pile of foraged goods to get them ready for later use. She needed to get this done before she wasted perfectly good edibles by forgetting they existed for a week while unpeeling the mysteries she found herself wrapped up in.

I can’t believe I forgot they were in the yard.

Cheeks burning, Jenn shook her head again.

They heard me singing.

She turned the volume up.

I mean, they didn’t say it was bad but they totally believed I was a creature of the forest.

Mental sabotage. Mutiny!

They’re out in the yard right now. Should I check on them?

No, they weren’t babies. She swept the chunks of starch onto a wicker flat and shoved it into the rafters to dry among the spices and herbs.

From the kitchen table she used as a booster, Jenn’s eyes caught movement and flicked to the window. Blue and yellow blurs spun across the yard, taunting her for a closer peek. Against her better judgment, the human clamored over to the glass portal, watching the paired robots as they flowed, jumped around and passed each other in coordinated motions. None of it matched the song currently playing in her ears, but it didn’t matter that much, as Jenn barely felt what had devolved into little more than muddled noise as she analyzed her guests.

“Fascinating,” she breathed, watching the trail of motion and energy the pair exchanged as the lead position shifted from the Moondrop to the Sunrise-–she could just barely tell based on who moved first and how at a given time. Locks were something Jenn was familiar with, along with the various sorts of ‘lesser’ grade model on the market; it was a known but unspoken fact among the inhabitants of the wilds of Azil that there was a direct relationship between the market grade of a companion and the rate of ‘rogueness’ they experienced upon gaining awareness. A fact that might make it a bit difficult for the two of them to be accepted amongst their own if they tried to integrate into a colony.

Not that I care, Jenn mused to herself while watching Moon easily swing Sun around himself in a fancy lifting technique. They could stay here and it wouldn’t make a difference if they were copper or goldlight–

She paused, looking away from the window.

That’s dumb and risky. Frowning at herself, the echo in her mind whispered, Then again, I could study them more if they stayed. Wapping herself on the forehead a few times, Jenn got down from the table. “No, no, bad Jenn! They’re not lab rats. Do not get attached.” Her tongue tapped the corner of her mouth. “I haven’t gotten to really look into their models though–” She clapped herself on the cheeks, voice straining, “STOOOOOPPPPPP!” with a deep rumble of frustration. “Science is for sleepers, and they are not asleep!”

Pulling off her headphones, Jenn took a moment to wet a clean cloth and wipe her face down, then her neck and shoulders; the cold water gave her a mild shock that broke the rampant cycle of cognitive dissonance that had started, granting her a chance to breathe. To think clearly. “Drag my inherent curiosity,” the human mumbled after a moment, squeezing the rag out and putting it over the towel rack to dry.

Regardless of the grade disparity and their mysterious origins, the Sunrise and Moondrop were, for all intents and purposes, still that. The materials were rare, sure, and the other features begged a lot of questions she didn’t feel safe answering, but fundamentally they were still what they were made to be: entertainers. Fancy toys, in a sense, made for the rich. Things that she–-and people like her–-would be incredibly unlikely to interact with, let alone own, a day in their lives simply due to station.

‘Stars shine for everyone but there is only one place for Uls.’

While the original meaning had long been broken and reassembled over the years, the intention remained consistent: you only get the good things when you’re lucky. It was something her parents often disparaged in her youth whenever news outlets pushed stories of ‘rogue robots’ upending construction projects or stealing from convoys. ‘Luck’ had nothing to do with how one should be treated.

But it did have a hand in where you started in life, Jenn felt, and that made a huge difference in how one turned out.

She was lucky by way of having loving parents that encouraged her interests as a child. There were many who could not claim the same even in her own neighborhood when growing up. Despite their job stations, the three of them were not lucky enough, however, to be wealthy; the fantasy of having a companion with the form and features of anything above Silver class was merely smoke and wishful thinking, though she knew now as an adult it had less to do with the economic state of her hometown and more with her parents’ morals and decisions. Those same ethics remained with her, even now, far from that place and the memories it held.

One could see these two immaculately crafted dancers turning somersaults in the grass and assume they were very lucky to be what they are-–Jenn herself was guilty of that very thought initially. Made to do nothing, living in leisurely apartments and condos, enjoying the finer parts of life that others could only dream of having. Running away from that? A fool’s errand. A choice made by the ignorant and naive…

… according to the jealous and shortsighted.

What would make a companion run away from a life of simplicity and excess? Jenn pondered rhetorically, having a general idea bubbling in the corners of her mind that made her gut twist as she put her headphones back on. Given what she knew about E’rta? It wasn’t good–-made worse knowing that they had been there for months, living their entire waking lives among the upper echelons of a city that had what could be generously considered a ‘divisive’ history.

E’rta was a city built on the backs of liars and the bones of the unlucky.

Of course it ends up being me that has to help this situation, a stray thought piped in as Jenn pulled down some glassware jars from a cabinet, placing them in the sink. I promise myself not to get involved in local politics and here I am harboring the runaways of some rich schmuck on the bad end of a political offense–-or worse yet, a military officer who really likes his toys being spicy or the thrill of abusing his power.

Kneeling to another cabinet, Jenn fished out a container that worked as a heat bath, setting it up absently to sanitize her jars for canning. Rinse, place, rinse, place-–she filled the well with glass jars and their matching lids, then poured a bit of water in and sealed it up, letting the heat bath steam up so they’d be ready for fermentable goodies. Music thrummed, slowly pushing away the deeper thoughts that wanted her attention.

It doesn’t matter, she firmly reminded herself. They wanted to leave, they have that right. The rest is up to them to figure out. I’m not their mother.

One thought still lingered, wiggling its way past the barrier of sound she filled her mind with.

A Goldlight class was already rare enough in the wilds; being able to afford such high end parts often included a lifestyle that was hard to justify leaving. Doubled with their particular type being the most expensive–-Sunrise and Moondrop–-the odds gave Jenn pause.

Had she ever met either of those kinds before in the wilds?

Despite the assumption that Goldlight and Quicksilver came from a quality of life considered envious, she had met a few here and there–-a Lune who’d grown tired of always being in the middle of patrons fighting in front of the club his owner ran, a Dawn who’d been replaced as a tutor after a bug in her update messed with her ability to add or modify new lesson plans for her students, a bizarre trio of two Days and a Night that had taken to burglary after their owner suddenly lost their job due to economic issues–-but never a Sunrise or a Moondrop of any class. Not even a whisper. Too rare to have proper sample size, as her father would say.

But both? A bonded pair, even, with Goldlight features–-and then some–-and the most complex array of mental components she’d seen outside of excavation teams and Nebula-class processors.

They might not have had a chance, the whisper added, reminding her of the tracking chips installed in the pair that she’d pried out and discarded before bringing them back online. Perhaps others just never had an opportunity to venture far before getting returned?

Not everyone was lucky enough to find help when they needed it, unfortunately.

Sighing, Jenn lifted her chin so she was gazing at the ceiling. In her mind she was thinking of the sky and the yellow-green shimmer of the aurora overhead, the roof itself barely being an obstacle in her visualization. “Somehow,” she muttered mostly to herself, “this is your fault. I just know it.”

A noise to her left got her attention–-a dark shape lingered in the doorway.

Yelping, Jenn jumped back from the counter, catching her heel on a stack of books. The shape darted toward her–-her wrist was grabbed firmly before she could topple, pulling her upright.

A flash of concern slipped from Moon’s face, replaced by a smug grin as he realized he’d startled her. Whipping her headphones off, Jenn barked, “FOR THAKK’S SAKE–!” but he only chuckled at her, relaxing his grip.

Amused, Moon countered, “I knocked before entering,” while leaning against the table with his arms folded. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention.”

Heart pounding from the whole event, Jenn took a measured breath, curbing her initial spark of her temper because he was right-–it was her fault for turning her music up too loud. “Okay, yeah, fine, you got me-–what do you need?”

Eyes darting over the current state of the kitchen and only coming away confused at what was going on, Moon’s gaze lingered on Jenn a moment.

/MD-Diagnostic assessment: Subject_Jenn%//

>Symptoms noted:

>>Elevated heart rate_

>>Cold sweat_

>>Flushed skin_

>>Presence of under eye bags_

>>Heavy breathing_

/Results indeterminate//

Moon briefly forgot what he was there for and instead asked, “Are you feeling alright?” out of directive-prone habit.

Jenn squinted at him with confusion, righting herself now that she could breathe calmly. “Yeah? Why?”

An inquisitive arch of a brow gave a silent question.

Deflecting the suspicion, Jenn rolled her eyes. “You just scared the pants off me, don't think too hard on it.” Disbelieving her but unwilling to prod, Moon only grunted dismissively. “Seriously, what do you want? Is he alright?” Faintly she gestured at the window to indicate Sun, her voice holding a genuine thread of worry.

“He’s fine,” Moon replied neutrally though a very slight turn of his lips remained, as he was still amused by getting the drop on her, accident or not. “But he is why I'm here terrorizing you.” Jenn’s lips pursed at his tease. “Stupid question, but do you have anything we can borrow that could work like a balance beam? Sun doesn’t think he’s being challenged enough to recalibrate properly. Assuming you know what–”

Cutting into his jab, Jenn snapped, “I know what a balance beam is,” earning a deflecting gesture, his hands raising. One of you is challenged plenty and it’s not sunshine, she added to herself, knowing he was being snarky on purpose; funnily enough it gave her an idea, her own mouth curling in a smug grin. “And I’ll even do you one better.”

Moon couldn’t tell if he was curious or suspicious of her intentions. Probably both.

~

“What in Azil’s shell is this?”

Neither brother knew what they were looking at for a moment aside from massively overgrown shrubs and climbers that had won the battle against whatever was underneath them, the clearing full to bursting with foliage and creeping vines twisting in and out of tree branches and structures of metal and rope that must have served a purpose before the plant Armageddon arrived. Jenn herself seemed perturbed as they arrived at the edge of the leafy wall after a few minutes of trekking through the forest at her behest, one hand rubbing the back of her head confusedly. “Well, it was my training course,” she answered after a moment, Moon feeling more confused than before. “I knew I forgot something when I got home.”

“Training course?” the navy bot inquired. Beside him, Sun knelt down and grabbed a leaf from the dense cloud of green wrapping around their feet, giving it a gentle squeeze and finding it plush and bouncy.

“Uh, yeah.” Even the human found her words hard to believe for a moment.

“Training for what ?”

Casting a glance at the nosey blue robot, Jenn raised a brow. “Well, unlike you I have to actually maintain my fitness levels.” Moon’s eyes glinted brightly at her sarcasm. “Don’t let the overgrowth fool you,” she added on, kneeling next to Sun and pulling a coil of greenery out of the ground with little resistance. “Trusslin is a very fast growing plant, leave it be long enough and it’ll overtake an area in a matter of weeks. I must have forgotten to come trim it back.”

“It’s soft,” Sun commented, adding the data to his collection of plants.

“Ain’t it?” she mused, grabbing another handful.

“Why not just get rid of it?” Moon wondered, tilting his head while studying one of the overgrown structures.

“Cuz it happens that a carpet of trusslin is really great for breaking falls,” Jenn replied, standing up and pressing a leaf against Moon’s face, causing him to lean away. The leaf dropped onto his shoulder, causing him to pick it up and pause, rubbing it between his fingers; the leaves were velvety and gave way slightly, as if they were little pillows of air that had deflated just a tad. “It’s not gonna stop you from eating shekt if you fall from too high, but I’ve avoided quite a few broken bones because of this stuff. Grows like crazy if it’s light enough and forms natural curls in the stems that tangle together like a net. Just, uh…” She waved her hand over the mess. “Gotta keep up on pruning.”

Taking the leaf from Moon, who was done playing with the plant scrap, Sun squished it between his fingers, trying to contain a giggle. “What do you do with the trimmings?” he wondered, lifting the leaf toward his brother’s face, causing him to lean away slightly.

“Uh…” Thinking for a moment, Jenn counted with her fingers. “Compost, fodder, mulch… there’s no nutritional value unfortunately, and it doesn’t taste like anything, but you can dry them and they stay puffy and soft so I like to use the unbroken ones as scrub pads sometimes, otherwise they’re great padding for pillows and stuff.”

Grabbing Sun’s wrist and shooting him a glare when the leaf returned to his personal bubble, Moon snatched it from his brother’s grasp and dropped it out of reach; Sun only grinned mischievously back at him. “So I’m guessing if we want to use this stuff, we need to cull the overgrowth?” he asked as his other hand moved to stop Sun from putting a vine on his head.

“Unfortunately,” Jenn sighed, turning to face them. “I’ll get a bag and my trimmers and be right back.”

She’d barely left their line of sight before something soft came into swift contact with Moon’s temple–-or it tried to at least, before he’d snatched it mid-arc, incidentally crushing the object in his hand. Wet grass wasn’t his favorite scent, but that was far less important than the sound of Sun’s amused snickering. “Quit it,” the darker bot warned, catching the quick motion of Sun plucking another leaf from the overgrowth. “What’re you doing?”

In response, Sun tossed the leaf at his face, causing him to swat it away.

“Sun!” Moon took a step toward his brother, intending to stop him from grabbing anything else to mess with.

Pftb.

They both paused, looking down. Moon lifted his foot, revealing a crushed trusslin leaf that had all of the air force out of it suddenly.

Sun choked back a snicker, chest quivering.

Moon bit the inside of his lip to keep back a laugh of his own, how voice warbling as he tried to keep it in. “Sun-–Sun that’s not–” A grinding, throaty sound from the golden bot got him to cough a bit, both of them struggling to not laugh at the absurd noise. “Shut up, that–-mkh–-that wasn’t funny.”

“Yes it was.” Sun’s voice was barely a squeak.

Cheeks aching from trying to fight the urge to smile, Moon had to turn away, losing the battle slowly against his own poor humor. “We really are children.”

Doubled over, Sun nodded, trying his best to calm himself down. A thick, fuzzy leaf bobbed in front of him as he exhaled; teal eyes flicked to Moon for a moment, then back to the leaf.

Moon saw the glance. “Do not.”

Sun reached for the leaf slowly, now holding Moon’s gaze with his mouth pressed thin with guilty pleasure.

“Sunrise.”

In a flash, Sun grabbed the leaf and pulled, twisting upright–-

–-Moon darted, trying to rip the leaf away before anything could be done with it.

~

Jenn lifted her head, cocking to one side instinctively in an effort to listen as her eyes skimmed the area. “Was that a yelp?” Standing, she hauled the burlap sack used for trimmings over her shoulder, grabbed the large pair of garden shears from their resting place at the base of the tree holding her home aloft and faced the direction of her equipment. No further rustling or odd changes to the wind came to her, so she dismissed the possibility it was an animal quickly.

Waiting patiently at her side, Rukbat’s nose pointed in the same direction she turned, ears perked and tail held still. With an airy whistle, Jenn gave the command to seek; bounding off, the canine darted into the tree line. She followed, taking long strides to cover ground quickly, only slightly assured that her guard dog hadn’t given an indicator of danger. The clearing wasn’t far by any means so it took only a minute to return, her concerns evaporating into an amused chuckle at the sight of Rukbat, tail wagging fiercely, with his teeth clamped tight to Sun’s sleeve in an effort to yank him upright from his sprawled position.

“What did you two do?” she wondered, failing to hide her laughter as she took in the sight before her. Both of the brothers were prone, tangled in the vines of the trusslin like storm-fallen branches, struggling to free themselves from the twisted grip of the vegetation.

Pointing with his free hand to his unluckier brother, Sun blurted, “He shoved me!”, jerking slightly to one side in time to Rukbat’s continuous yanking on his shirt sleeve.

“I–” the unfortunate Moon huffed, voice slightly muffled by the foliage, “--I did not! YOU fell on your own!” While Sun had the good graces to fall back-first, preserving his dignity, Moon had been less lucky; in an effort to catch himself and avoid his face meeting the ground with unwarranted enthusiasm, he’d thrown his hand out but in doing so had gotten his arm tangled in the coiling vines as they ensnared him in a way that worsened whenever he tried to pull free.

Fighting down her laughter, Jenn mused, “Alright, hold on,” while putting her supplies down and waving Rukbat off from his misplaced eagerness. “Perimeter. Go.” With a single whimper, the Stellis bounded into the trees to check the area as commanded so he wouldn’t be underfoot. Jenn couldn’t help the grin on her face as she planted her feet firmly, offering her hand to the taller bot; with a grunt, she was able to pull Sun upright, the vines snagging and tugging at his clothes in an effort to keep him trapped. They fell away easily enough, having been more a nuisance that kept Sun from finding the leverage to sit up than anything else. “What did we learn today?”

From the foliage, Moon grumbled, “Plants are evil,” while waiting for his turn, a single iris glimmering in the shade of the leaves. This only made Jenn chuckle louder, which he didn’t enjoy much.

“Hold still, I'm coming.”

A click and hum of parts rearranging made Moon twitch, the vines tightening in their lattice-like hold so he couldn’t turn to look.

Blue light filled the shadowy space of the underbrush as Jenn crouched with more grace than he’d fallen with and began to rock her mechanical arm rhythmically against the plants that held him down. A snap–-then another–-she pulled the vines one by one just enough to slide her pinkie finger between them and saw away at them; Moon realized quickly the click had been her finger joint swapping into a small blade, serrated and sharp but no bigger than her finger had been. “How handy,” he commented, meaning it as a compliment but sounding as annoyed as he felt.

“It is,” she agreed, still grinning but unbothered by his tone.

With a final cut, Moon’s arm came free. Standing at the ready, Sun grabbed his brother's elbow and hauled, dragging the dark bot back from the tangle onto his feet. Quietly, the golden bot whispered, “I’m sorry,” helping to dust grass clippings from Moon’s shirt.

Moon grunted, unamused but accepting the apology; it wasn’t worth being genuinely upset over. This time.

Stepping lightly, Jenn retraced her steps to get out of the overgrowth so she wouldn’t wrap herself up by accident and brushed her skirt down, finger blade swapping back with a soft snick. “Well,” she mused, hands on her hips once they were settled, “had enough trusslin trimming for the day or are you boys still willing to help cut it back?”

Sharing a quick look to confirm their answers, they both spoke together, “I’d like to!/I'd like revenge.”

Hefting up the shears, she offered them to the pair with a faint grin. “Who wants them?”

Immediately, Sun shook his head, uncomfortable with such a large, unwieldy tool made of sharp edges and intentions of horticultural homicide.

Moon hesitated a moment before also shaking his head; briefly, he’d considered simply using water to trim the plants back but a fearful weight in his gut made him reconsider just as quickly. Neither of them had made an effort to show off their ‘unique skills’, he realized, briefly pondering if she already knew or not. If she did it wouldn’t matter, but he didn’t feel like risking any more of their personal abilities being known by a stranger if it could come back to bite them later. Thinking fast, he pushed a warning to Sun through their Lock with emphasis on his disapproval of the notion before it could occur to the taller bot–-Sun was more likely to act on a whim, as they’d shown plenty of the higher class their specialty beforehand so the risk would likely not occur to him.

Moon could only pray that the breadth of Jenn’s knowledge stopped at the basics and that she didn’t already know or recognize the pair of them carried the faculty for elemental conjuration. Any advantage they could gain would be useful, even if it was underhanded, in the event of the worst case scenario-–the deep nagging feeling he’d been trying to ignore grew stronger as Sun touched his own head for a moment as the push reached him. He looked at Moon curiously, the idea barely taking form before it was shut down by external prompting. Taking it to mean he had good reason to be cautious about their abilities being made known, Moon simply twitched his head in a subtle ‘no’, doubling down on the warning.

Water and fire would remain their secret until absolutely necessary.

“Well,” Jenn’s voice chirped, unaware of them having any sidebar conversation at all, “have fun using your hands then. Don’t get tied up again.”

Unhappy, Moon accepted the light jab without fuss, watching her turn on her heel and drop to the ground with ease to begin slicing the wayward bushes to pieces. The pair of performers moved to either side of the human and knelt, each grabbing hold of a fistful of vines and pulling them free with differing satisfaction at their respective results. Happy to be helpful, Sun picked systematically at the tangles from their roots, but Moon was more keen to vent his annoyance by taking a vine in hand and pulling, often snapping them half way down as the tension gave out. Jenn focused on cutting, mindful of where each of them stood and where their hands were before making a slice, creating a somewhat clear path into the mess they could walk through without tripping.

Some amount of time passed in busy silence, a growing pile of trimmings marking their progress at clearing the overgrown mess from around the equipment that supposedly lay beneath it all. Constructs made of metal and wood fashioned together with wire, bolts and braces slowly revealed themselves, surprising Moon with how sturdy they were-–absolutely not passing any safety inspections but sturdy enough to be usable. Off and on between exchanging questions and directions, the navy bot thought he heard a hum but couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from for a while. By the end of their endeavor, he only had the assumption it was Jenn, yet if it was she would stop if he got too close.

Is she shy or messing with me? he wondered, dumping a load of leaves and sticks into the brush pile.

Jenn groaned and stretched, getting his attention. Somewhere in the back, Sun was coming around with his own collection of detritus. “I think that’s good enough for now,” the human decided, hair matted to her neck with sweat. “I’m ready for–”

“OW!”

Startled by the unexpected sound, Jenn and Moon bolted to the edge of the clearing where the cry came from, skidding to a halt at the sight of Sun nursing his foot while leaning on one of the upright structures. Audibly worried, Moon asked, “What happened??” kneeling to give his brother’s leg a quick scan; the alerts read as superficial with no real damage detected.

“I kicked that,” Sun answered, indicating a circular object buried under the leaves he’d been carrying with a tip of his head. Curious, Jenn circled behind them and pulled the object out, light bouncing off of it with a metallic gleam; it was a ring of chrome-like metal, unadorned with a bright shine despite being out in the wilderness for Azil-knows-how-long.

“Oh!” she chirped, hefting it over her head to give it a once-over. “That’s where I left it! Thanks for finding my hoop, bright eyes. Sorry you used your foot for it though.”

Satisfied nothing was broken, Moon let Sun put his foot down so he could stand, frowning. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a more serious injury. You have too much junk lying around, I'm surprised we haven’t tripped on anything before now.”

Giving the terse robot sharp side-eye, Jenn shrugged lightly. “Before now the only one at risk of injury was me so leaving my ‘junk’ out was never a problem.”

“I’m fine though,” Sun cut in, flexing his toes against the grass; they stung but his system detected no internal errors. It had startled him more than anything. “What is that thing? It’s heavy.”

“A weighted sling hoop,” Jenn answered, giving the ring a twirl over her wrist. “I got one for fitness reasons but got busy and forgot where I left it.”

“Sling hoop?” Sun’s brow furrowed a moment before he recalled why it sounded familiar. “Oh! We had a few of those, didn’t we?”

Moon raised a brow when Sun turned to him for an answer, as if seeking permission to share details. “For a bit, I think, but they were smaller and not weighted as much. I don’t even know where they went, if I’m being honest.”

The motion of the ring swirling brought their eyes back to it, Jenn absently swishing it around her wrist with ease; light shimmered across the surface, almost blindingly at times–-with a flick, the ring soared up above their heads, the metal finish hard to ignore in the yellow glow of the aurora. As it reached the peak of its arc and began to fall, a different flash of the light cut across the canopy with intent to intercept the metal ring before ducking into the trees, treasure in claw.

“OI!” Jenn barked at the flash. “AQUILA!”

The avian circled back overhead, the ring held securely in her talons.

“AQUILA, DROP IT!”

The bird made no indicator of doing so, heading off to the house.

Slumping, Jenn groaned, “Aaaaaaand that’s why I don’t use it anymore, she’s obsessed with that thing.”

“It is shiny,” Sun offered in condolences, which earned him a rueful grin.

Moon sighed, “Well, so much for that,” a bit amused at the situation. Seems she’s not in complete control of her companions. Amusement turned to confusion quickly as that thought settled more at the forefront of his mind: Cygnus units weren’t supposed to be disobedient. In fact, they weren't even supposed to do anything outside of their one function--to look pretty by imitating real birds. Knowing she’d gone to great lengths to build them herself implied Jenn had either intentionally programmed disobedience into her companion or the AI had developed this quirk at some point but she never corrected it.

Jenn was not exercising control over the lesser robots as their maker or owner.

Something in his gut twisted uncomfortably. A touch at his back brought him out of his thoughts, meeting Sun’s concerned gaze as he looked over his shoulder. “Are you alright?” the gold bot asked quietly, Jenn peering around him curiously.

Realizing he was being observed, Moon straightened and replied, “I’m fine, just thinking about going back to the house.”

“Oh.” Sun looked back at Jenn, then out to the equipment they’d spent the better part of a day liberating from the forest’s green grasp. “We can go if you–”

Moon held up his hand. “I want to go back. If you want to stay out here for a bit longer you can.”

Perking up, Sun grinned. “Really? Alright!”

Gives me a chance to look around more, Moon added to himself, giving a small wave as he departed from the clearing. The twist returned as soon as he was out of sight. It wasn’t the same as the nagging at the back of his mind-–that one was persistent, it made his shell feel cold inside and his system like it was running rapidly–-yet it wasn’t positive either.

He felt sick, if that were even possible.

Why?

Exiting the trees, Moon’s gaze drifted automatically up to the roost where he knew the bird made its home; sure enough, its metallic feathers glimmered and shone as it settled down, examining its prize with its beak. The feeling churned deep within his structural coils, slimy and loud. Ascending the steps of the house, Moon was too busy internally assessing to notice he was piloting himself toward the avian’s resting spot until he heard a rasp and snapped back to the present. Wings spread, Aquila stared him down with piercing magenta eyes, a low, metallic scraping noise cutting through the air as a warning he was getting too close.

What am I doing? he wondered, splaying his hands to show he was unarmed and meant no harm. Animals don’t even like me.

Seeing he was empty-handed, Aquila’s wings lowered slightly–-but her grip on the hoop only tightened.

This Stellis was bigger than he considered; while he was growing familiar with the golden shimmer of its feathers, Moon hadn’t truly considered how bulky this thing was, as it was always a distance away whenever he got to look at it. The few times it was near Jenn, whose size he was acutely aware of, it hadn’t truly struck him until now that this was a large unit. A majority of the time, a Cygnus’s size was directly related to its functionality: small units were meant to flutter and move around, large ones were slow and not designed to meander. In this case, though, it was large and functional.

Brilliant magenta eye lenses were set into what he assumed was a salvaged endo-skeleton taken from a parrot or owl base model, but padded and plated with metal feathers layered like shingles that appeared hand-hammered and cut to size for where they were meant to be. Most of them were yellow–-brass perhaps-–but slivers of copper and steel popped up here and there, welded together to make up for missing material or repairs when the base alloy wasn’t available. The forward edge of the wings had structures with deep divots Moon assumed were to help guide air over the wings, but he couldn’t be certain. They weren’t standard at least, he knew that much.

A sharp beak with a hook at the end and dark talons that-–to his shock-–measured nearly a finger-length to him glinted, threatening to teach him a painful lesson if he tried to take the treasured ring by force. Like all the things in this place, this robot was bizarre-–mismatched and not to market spec yet even through his cynical view of things, Moon could tell this one was crafted and maintained with no less care than the canine or the twin computers that floated about, hiding in nooks and crannies to spy on them all quietly. There was no mistaking the amount of deliberate effort that went into, not repairing, but custom building such things out of scrap and sheer gumption.

Jenn was talented, he would admit, but he couldn’t for the life of him grasp why she wasted her effort on smaller things like Stellis units when she obviously had the knowledge to work on Task Managers like them but simply didn’t. Aquila squawked softly, turning her head to eye him better when he didn’t move. His gaze darted across the avian as he thought, taking mental notes on her build and features. The fact this unit was still behaving like a bird when out of sight meant it wasn’t for show, thus not a Cygnus programming feature-–not anymore at least.

This bird had free-running AI, on purpose. Typically this was used for Task Managers, Stardusts and Stellis units with functions outside of decoration, such as the Sirius Guardian line which behaved like dogs at all hours rather than just when commanded or viewed by others. Smaller Cygnus would have this so they could appear ‘natural’ but it made no sense for a large decorative unit to have it nor would it develop this feature organically over time. The only conclusion he had was that Jenn purposefully gave this bird a kind of free will to behave like the animal it was modeled after even when it wasn’t needed.

But why?

None of the things this weird human girl did made sense to him. Not when viewing her through the lens of comparison to other humans he’d met at least. Jenn was not like the humans in E’rta-–every time he tried to catch her in one of their known patterns, accuse her of things he knew them to be guilty of, Moon was proven wrong. None of them would allow something like this Cygnus–-Aquila, he corrected himself–-to exist with its own sense of self-direction simply because. In fact, he was sure they wouldn’t build her in the first place purely due to her being ‘ugly’ with her mottled metal shell and rough layering of feathers.

Yet Jenn gave her self-directing features, played with her in the yard-–there wasn’t even a leash. Aquila was able to steal an object from her master, defy a command, fly off and face no consequences. Jenn had simply accepted the hoop was gone for now. The twist spread through his system again as these facts stacked up, becoming impossible to ignore.

He felt guilty.

Gentle prodding snapped him out of his mental echo chamber, causing him to jump slightly. A raspy squawk that almost sounded like a question made him realize that while he was reeling from his own judgmental thought processes being wrong, Aquila had deigned to leave her spot and shuffle across the hand rail toward him. The hoop rested on the perch, undisturbed and unguarded; he didn’t dare try to grab it with the massive bird staring him down from barely a foot away. She’d scraped her beak across his arm with surprising care, head cocked so one eye had a full view of him. Through the pink lenses of her eye shield, Moon saw a shutter coil in on itself as it focused silently on his face.

Absently, he reached toward her with his far hand, pausing when she opened her beak warningly. The ruffle in her feathers settled after a second, giving him a chance to near her again; a murmuring sound hummed from the bird before she clicked her beak, making him freeze again. What am I doing? Moon asked himself yet again, trying to find a logical reason he was even trying to mess with this thing in the first place. I’m stupid, I’m going to lose a finger because of my own curiosity.

Head swiveling a bit, Aquila considered her options: bite or no bite? Blue was patient but held anger in yellow eyes. Yellow was loud but green eyes were kind. Choices choices.

With a quick nip, Aquila closed her beak on Moon’s finger–-he tensed, fighting the reaction to jerk back just enough to realize it didn’t hurt. Once–-twice more she gave his finger a quick tap between her sharp mouthparts before seeming satisfied with his lack of reaction. Cooing, she sat back, lifting her chin so her neck fluffed.

Unsure what it meant, Moon pursed his mouth, huffed, and took a risk to stroke her neck with the back of his fingers. Unsurprisingly, the metal feathers weren’t soft but they folded aside at the slightest touch, giving the illusion of it; faintly, Moon’s mouth turned up at the edge. Aquila allowed him to pet her neck a few times before having enough and making the rasping sound that he took to mean displeasure. While she shuffled back to her perch, Moon looked out over the yard, finding it quite the vantage point. Somewhere in the brush, he could make out Rukbat still running a perimeter check, while the tree tops were just visible enough that the gap of the clearing was demarcated as a shadowy line; the bird must have seen the flash of the chrome finish from her perch. Up there, Moon felt almost peaceful.

Maybe it was a good thing his assumptions were proving to be wrong.

It was nice here.

[barclaysangel]

I’m sorry I’m bombarding your asks but the idea I have for Devon’s development is a simple concept; realization.

Like, we all know Devon. He’s sassy, he’s smart, he’s kind, he has a little bit of dry humor and has some bad habits, like any other human being — including, his anger issues that sometimes lead him to say or do some bad things.

So imagine he’s thinking, like an over thinker because Devon’s brain canonically just never turns off for some reason is evaluating the hate he has for Chucky. Like before his mom got murdered, he already disliked but had a huge interest in the serial killer.

Like, let’s take Chucky; he has anger problems, dry humor, offensive humor which we all know Devon has if he said everything that came to mind, but most of all — he has an interest in murder. In “spontaneous”.

You can not tell me Chucky was most likely neglected as a child (that’s said in an explanation AND an insult) and probably turned to true crime as a safe space and that fuel his interest for murder. Like Zack Foster from Angels of Death, he saw a horror slasher movie and took that as a “that’s what I need to do to get rid of people that hurt me” because Zack was an impressionable child.

Chucky was most likely the same way.

So was Tiffany.

So is Junior.

And from what we’ve seen, so is Devon. The only difference is he has a more mature level (THANK OUR MOTHER KIM FOR THAT) growing up in the 21st century and having a mother who works late shifts, so he probably rarely sees her but they have a distant but good relationship.

So imagine that coming down on Devon and just realizing that most of the reason why he hated Chucky and Chucky dislikes Devon is because they probably see each other in the other.

Devon sees Chucky as a monster, a monster he knows resides in him somewhere and could’ve caused him to become that if he didn’t have Kim and his friends.

And Chucky sees Devon as what he could’ve been with the right parents in the right environment, with the right friends and mindset and if he wasn’t given unrestricted movie access.

Like, switch their backstories, and no matter the timeline, Devon would’ve became a killer and Chucky would’ve became a normal highschool kid.

Also, Chucky is only seen murdering adults in his prime and parents in the series. Like, that’s his majority.

Idk, it seems interesting.

Like this realization + him getting over that internal fear of being perceived as “dangerous” or “aggressive” as a black gay teen and looking back on his past and starting to fight again is just UGH.

Like these backstories would make so much sense for his character, what Devon is, his responses, it makes so much sense when you’re analyzing and building a backstory for the character based off what they are.

Like, this is taking place in 2023/2024, and very racist things have happened between 2021/2022 and 2019.

Like I know he doesn’t want to be previewed that way, and his teachers may of made him think that being protective over his friends and himself was “aggressive” and he was contributing to a stereotype.

Like finally, in that moment, he can clearly see the line between protective and aggressive and that sparks ignites and encourages him to start fighting again — like he knows how to.

PALAOJAIAJAJS I AM SO NORMAL I PROMISE

Wait holy shit that actually makes a lot of sense omg I love that!!

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Choke On My D-- [3]

My night was filled with banter and laughter. If I'm being completely honest, it was even more amazing than I imagined it would be.

I grew up with the mindset of "do what makes the most money, not what you want to do." So actually enjoying my job for once feels different. I'm not sure if I'll be able to make enough with playing games online with my friends, but I'd be elated if I could because I genuinely enjoy it.

I don't want to go back to the way things were before.

Sally Face was quiet for most of the night, only really talking when directly spoken to. But what he didn't do— no matter what— was speak to me. Never addressed me. Never acknowledged me again. He ignored any attempts I made to bring him into our conversations (which didn't happen often, by the way) and he would even scoff at the sound of my voice.

But it didn't bother me all that much. Over the course of the night, I amassed thousands of new subscribers and followers between each one of my social media accounts. It's shocking to say the least, but very welcome. I'm not sure if those numbers will continue to grow or if this is just a spur of the moment excitement for The Faces fans, but I'm anxious to see where things go.

And Sally Face never called or texted "Lexi." Not once.

My guess is that I pissed him off enough to shut him up completely.

Larry, Ash, and Todd posted their recordings to Youtube. Sally hasn't yet, but going through comments has been quite interesting. I think, with the way people are enjoying me and Sally's arguing, I may be able to make something out of this.

One such thread of comments goes as so:

sllyfcefannn: Sally is a MENACE LMAO ashypoosbby: wtf is even happening sallyfacesallyfacee: he was quick with it too hahaaa larry4lyfe: Why is Sally such an asshole tho-- sxllyfxce28: nah they rlly dont need more people in The Faces. four is enough. bye violetviolence, go somewhere else. ashintheair: Honestly feel bad for VioletViolence. she's so sweet and she was so kind when she introduced herself and Sally was just such a dick. like imagine hearing this as a fan (which she is). so heartbreaking. toddsdaddy: agreed. he could've been a LOT more sensitive like??

I look through more comments beneath my own video, smiling the entire time as I get dressed for work. I'm still stuck wearing glasses, but I don't mind. I'm used to them for right now and there isn't much that could break my excitement of having people actually defend me and enjoy my video.

It's fortifying.

My shift is a short 8-12 that goes by even more quickly with the aid of tons of comments and likes giving me something to look forward to throughout the day.

As I'm walking home and enjoying the afternoon sun, Ash calls me.

With a startled flinch, I pull my phone from my pocket and quickly accept the call when I realize who it is. Why would she be calling?

"Y/n-- sorry, I guess I should call you Vi now, right?" Ash curses quietly then starts over again. "Vi! Hi, how are you, guess what!!!"

I smile, unable to stop a small giggle from slipping past my lips. Ash is so precious. She can't hide her true intentions-- she only called me to tell me about something interesting.

"I'm well, Ash. Most of that is thanks to you," I reply happily, ingesting the tempting sight of various stores around me. Downtown LA. "What's up?"

Ash practically squeals, a shuffling sound coming from the other end of the call. "Guess who's going to fucking Vegas!?"

My eyebrows raise and my heart skips a beat as I pause my steps. Ash heading to Vegas? That's ridiculously close. Even if it's still hours away, the thought of finally being near her again after all these years makes my heart race to the point that I feel a bit lightheaded. 

"What? Really?" I breathlessly ask, looking down at the bright cement beneath my feet. My stomach feels tight and a lump begins to form in my throat. I really want a chance to see Ash, though I'm not sure I have the money to take an unplanned trip to Las Vegas...

"YES!" She screams again. I can even hear her feet pittering around her room-- the thought of her running in excitement makes my elation grow to insane heights. I feel like running through the streets and screaming myself. "We'll be going to Vegas in three weeks! It's for an exclusive party at some club. I got you a ticket. I'll send it!"

My brows scrunch together. She got me into some VIP event? "How did you get a ticket for me? And who's we-- do you mean me and you?"

"Ooo, fun question!" Ash whispers morbidly. "The host of the event asked me about you first. Didn't know if you'd be into going somewhere so social! But they love your intro into the tech and gaming world. Especially the tension between you and Sal! That part was easy. I hardly had to say a word." She giggles proudly to herself whereas I wince. 

I don't want Sally and I to be some kind of spectacle to the world. I don't want people to know me as that random girl that argues with Sally Face because he just can't help but hate her guts. I want to be that nice girl that plays games. I want to be VioletViolence and I want to be known for it.

"And by 'we' I mean all of us! You, me, Larry, Todd, and Sal!"

I chew the inside of my cheek, feeling unwelcome tears sting my eyes as my heart drops into the acidic depths of my stomach. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips as I think of how to tell Ash that I'm absolutely not going to Vegas with The Faces. 

"That sounds... fun," I murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and tilting my head to the sky to stop my tears from falling. "I appreciate the invite, but I don't think I... have the funds to go." My claim isn't exactly a lie, but I'm almost thankful for it right now. I can't go to Las Vegas if Sally is going to be there.

We don't get along. The two of us are a ticking bomb-- except none of us know how long the countdown is before it blows. It's an issue. I don't want to reunite with my friends then immediately jump into arguments and fights with Sally. That would be so embarrassing for me and for Larry, Todd, and Ash. I do not want that.

I'm forgetting that the most important reason why I can't go to Vegas is because Sal knows the face behind VioletViolence. He would hate 'Lexi' if he were to find out that she and VioletViolence are one. I want him to like at least one thing about me even if he doesn't know that it's me.

Then again, why should I care if he dislikes every version of me? He's shown his distaste in various ways. He's been a complete ass, so why defend him? Why do I want him to like me?

"Y/n-- Vi," Ash corrects herself with a hiss, effectively pulling me from my thoughts. "I'll cover your trip. Just, please, come see us. The guys miss you."

"Not all of them." I laugh humorlessly, kicking a pebble at my feet.

"You know what I mean. Sally has no say in what happens anyway. We won't let him bother you-- just come!" Ash pleads. If she were with me right now, I just know she would be grabbing my hands and giving me her puppy dog eyes.

My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip with a force I can't control. I crack my knuckles, scuff my foot on the ground. I feel apprehensive-- I don't want to have to tell Ash the truth on why I don't want to go, but I know it's getting close to that.

"I don't want anyone to see my face, Ash. It's not a good idea for me to go..." I trail off, picking at the skin on my fingers and hoping that she'll at least accept that.

"We can figure something out, Vi. Just say yes and we'll handle everything else when the time comes, but I can promise you now that your identity will remain a secret. No one will know who you are." Ash tries to bargain, her soft and soothing voice nearly persuading me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I can't, Ash." Gosh, I don't want to upset her. "You know how I feel about you paying for me. Plus, there's really no way to hide myself from everyone. Think about it. And..." She'll fight me on everything else because she wants this so bad, so I'll throw the truth in. "I don't want to be around Sally. It would be bad for all of us. Deep down, you know that, too."

Ash sighs disappointedly, but I can tell she isn't going to push me anymore. "I understand. I'm sorry if I was crossing a line. I just... I really miss you. It's been nearly a decade. I really fucking wish Sal wasn't such an ass either. He's never acted that way before. He's normally a very soft, humble guy. I don't know what his problem is. I'm... I'm sorry, Y/n."

I don't know what his issue with me is, but I believe Ash now that I've gotten the chance to talk with Sal-- no ties to anyone, just the two of us. He didn't know a thing about me and because of that, I got to see a side of him I didn't expect. He was sweet, kind, and giving. I enjoyed that personality. He was open and happy to get to know me.

"I believe you. Maybe it's just me. No matter who I am, he just has something against me." I lick my dry lips, an iron taste on my tongue. I must have bitten my lip too hard. "And thank you for understanding. I do appreciate the invite and I miss you more than anything, but it's not quite time yet."

"That's okay, babe. I'll wait for you forever. And Sal shouldn't have anything against you. You do not deserve that, not with how incredibly precious you are." Ash perks up a bit, a smile in her voice.

Hearing her more upbeat tone makes my worrisome thoughts and racing heart calm down a bit. "Oh, well. People will hate. It's whatever."

"He'll come around eventually," Ash says softly. She's quiet for a moment then says, "Well, hey. We're getting online again tonight if you want to join."

I take a deep breath, looking up at the road ahead of me. There are people everywhere. It's a beautiful day. "Yea, that sounds good. I'll be free all afternoon."

"Great! Just check Discord every once in a while. We'll figure out a time and a game there! You gonna try Twitch tonight?" Ash asks.

"I think I will," I answer. It's time I start going where I'll get money-- if I get money. Doesn't hurt to put everything into swing though. "You think I have a chance with this, Ash?" I ask, my voice betraying my vulnerability. Truthfully, I'm afraid of trying and failing at this because I truly loved  playing with everyone last night.

"Oh, honey," Ash's voice is gentle and comforting like a nice, warm hug. One that I desperately wish I could get from her. "I know you've got this. You already have over eight thousand new subscribers on Twitch. That's a fantastic start. It took me a while to get there. Not to mention, people love you. I love you. Larry and Todd love each side of you."

A genuine smile pulls at my lips and I find myself fighting off tears again. Ash reminds me of my dad-- they are both just so easy to talk to. I feel like I can tell them anything. I'd admit every one of my darkest secrets to both of them and know I wouldn't be judged. To me, that's one of the truest, purest forms of love. 

All of my secrets except for the fact that I've already met Sally Face. 

"Thank you, Ash. It's all thanks to you. I love you so much and I can't wait to continue this journey with you and the guys," I say gratefully. And you know what, I can't be too angry about Sally because our arguments got me some traction, too. "Even Sally," I decide to add.

"That's the spirit!" Ash claps her hands, the sound reverberating through my ears. "I'll see you online tonight, 'kay?"

"See you then. I love you," I tell her, waiting for her to hang up the call with an unbeatable, winning smile on my face. I'm looking forward to getting home. 

"Je t'aime, mon couer!" Ash blows a kiss then ends the call, leaving me alone in the Los Angeles wilderness-- nothing I'm not already used to.

I feel happier than I did at the beginning of our call. Ash was reassuring and just as helpful as she always is. Even if I won't get to see her in Vegas, I'm happy knowing that she'll be close by.

Walking further down the street, I look between various stores and window-shop. There are tons of nice things. For example, a tiara and crystal store-- what a combination! 

The sun beats down on me in what would normally be an uncomfortable way, but today, it feels restoring. The ridiculous heat feels like a sign of a new start.

A glance to my right causes me to do a sudden double take though and I find myself distracted from any previous thoughts. 

That's something interesting. I walk closer to a shop, letting my eyes wander over all the goodies inside the window. Of all things, half of an answer sits before me. An answer that I never would have come up with on my own-- and yet, here it is. All and only because I realized that this could conceal me. Maybe not at this exact moment, but it has potential. And I want it.

Without a second thought, I pull my eyes away from the window and gaze at the door to the shop instead. I don't worry about funds, I don't think about how odd it'll be for me to keep this in my room-- unused. But I need it because this gives me an actual opportunity to go visit Ash, Larry, and Todd someday.

It's a mask store.

I walk in, listening to the door jingle behind me. The store is small, but very personal and unique. The walls are black and littered with various masks all with different styles, colors, and designs.

Beads and other decorations hang from the black ceiling, adding a bit of color to the void above. It's only a bit of decoration to aid the music in the room, but it works incredibly well.

The music is in a foreign language, but it seems to be a mix of pop and rock. I'm pretty into it.

I slowly walk further into the shop, gazing left and right, just trying to decide where to look first and doing my very best not to tap my foot to the beat of the music. Standing here looking overwhelmed makes me me feel awkward and out of place. Should I really be in here at all? It's probably better if I wait and think on this a bit.

My question is immediately answered when I feel a little nudge on my arm. I glance over my shoulder, feeling an urge to scoot to the side in case I'm blocking anyone, but a lady stands behind me with a smile on her face and a mask in her hand. 

I feel like I've just barely decided on doing this, like life is moving past me at double the speed. To see this lady standing before me with a beautiful mask in her hands feels like a sign, though.

"I had to grab it in when you walked in," she says. "I think this one will suit your face nicely."

The woman has salt and pepper hair in a loose, messy bun atop her head. Her skin is a gorgeous caramel shade and her face is littered with little freckles. And her eyes-- a welcoming, inebriating color that reminds me so much of smoky quartz. Absolutely stunning.

She's a bit shorter than me, too. But she seems to notice my hesitance, patting my arm with her free hand. "Why don't you take a look at it, honey?"

My mouth opens, my lips dry as I try to find the right words to stay. But my brain is empty, so I snap my mouth shut and gently take the mask from her instead. 

It seems like almost an exact replica of Phantom of the Opera's Red Death mask. The one from the live action movie with Gerard Butler. 

It would only cover from my forehead down to under my nose, but it's gorgeous. There are grooves in it to mimic the shape of a skull and it's a deep, dark red. 

My heart feels like it's just participated in a NASCAR race. This feels so right. It feels perfect-- like all the stars have aligned just for me in this moment. My stomach feels queasy in the best kind of way like the time I overate for my 21st birthday. I felt full and surrounded by love, though I knew better than to crack open a beer because I knew I'd throw up.

So I use that little experience to remind me that, yes, it feels right-- but I shouldn't push my luck. This will be my one thing for now, then I'll see what I can do in the future.

"Um," I murmur softly, tilting my head toward the woman with a hesitant smile. "Would you happen to have this one in purple?"

The woman leans toward me, her hands behind her back and her eyes narrowed as her smile grows into a sly grin. "I have four. What kind of purple?"

I beam at her, finding that maybe pushing my luck a bit more will be beneficial. It'll end some day, but this moment feels lucky enough to me.

The woman takes me to her counter then fishes out her four masks. They all have the same style, but their colors are much different than the red one in my hands.

There's a pastel one with neon green designs, a bright purple mask with glitter in different places, then a pink and purple tie dyed one.

But the mask that wins my vote is a dark purple-- so dark, it would look black in dim lighting-- with gold highlights in just the right places. It screams me-- screams VioletViolence. 

I run my fingers over each nook, cranny, and hill of the mask. I feel it out, falling deeper and deeper in love with the creation until I feel an unignorable yearning deep within my soul. I need this. Somehow, I feel like purchasing this mask will be life changing for me.

I take a deep breath, feeling my eyes widen as I get lost in the beauty of pure, undeniable art. "How much?" I ask softly.

"For you, fifty." Her voice is soft, but determined. So I look up, noting the content smile on her face, almost like she's proud of my decision.

"And..." I trail off, gulping as her smoky gaze meets mine. "How much would it be for someone else?"

"One twenty." Her reply is immediate and honest, her ashy eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the shop.

I definitely don't have the money to pay for a $120 mask. $50 is insanely reasonable, but I can't take such a discount just for... I don't know why I've even been given a discount.

Choking on air for a moment, I try to recover and bargain a bit more. "Ma'am, I can't take this for fifty. Let me at least give you a bit more than that."

The lady leans onto the counter separating us, lifting a hand and pointing at me. "See, I knew you were the type to say something like that. Honestly, I'd give it to you for free but I feel like that would bother you for eternity." She laughs, the raspy sound filling the air around us.

"You're right." I smile at her, placing the mask on the counter. "But seriously, I can't take something worth so much without paying the correct amount."

The woman tilts her head. "Alright, your choice. $50, or just take it. But you can't walk out of here without it."

I narrow my eyes, grinning slightly. I appreciate her kindness. I'm not sure why she's showing so much compassion toward me, but I can't complain. Maybe life just decided to give me a break today.

I pull a couple bills from my wallet and slide them over, making sure to put $10 into her tip can. I don't have much, but I can't give her nothing, especially when she's nice enough to give this to me for $50.

"If I'm ever famous," I say in a giggly voice. "I'll thank you for bringing my character to life."

The woman's smile brings life to my already enthusiastic body. "Then tell me your name so I can look for you, sweetheart. I know you'll get recognition one day."

I swallow thickly, feeling my heart swell with so much appreciation for this random woman who decided to be so kind to me. But what do I tell her? If I am famous one day, she can't know my real name because I won't go by my real name. But, she knows my face and I don't want her to associate that with VioletViolence.

I watch her for a few moments, debating in my head. She watches me patiently, the caring smile never leaving her lips.

So I cut off my thoughts and lean on the counter too. "Can you keep my face a secret if I tell you the name I go by?"

"I don't even remember what you look like," she says, waving a hand in front of her and closing her eyes.

I laugh, unable to stop myself from patting her hand affectionately. Each little bit of fear in my bones gets shredded into indecipherable pieces. Maybe this'll come back to bite me in the future, but I'm not concerned about it right now. Plus, what proof will she be able to show? I doubt she'll even remember my face. I take a glance at the empty store behind me before speaking. "I go by VioletViolence online," I say cheerily. "I'm friends with that group called The Faces."

The woman's brows furrow in shock. "Really? My son loves The Faces. He hasn't told me about you." She smiles again though, patting my hand back. "I'll definitely look out for you, love. I have the utmost faith in your abilities. May you achieve all that you long for."

With a little sweet pull at my heart strings, I squeeze her hand in mine. "Thank you, ma'am. That means the world to me." I pinch my lips together to contain the ugly crying that's bound to set in later. This visit was definitely a sign for me to keep moving forward.

This random lady with no name has managed to give me so much self-pride and hope. I'll make sure to thank her generously if and when I can.

She puts my mask in a safe, pristine, crisp box then bags it, handing it to me with a smile and well wishes before sending me on my way.

My walk home is even more vibrant and enjoyable than it was before, but it's unfortunately quick.

Dad isn't home when I walk into our apartment. Figures, though. Most of the time, he's out working late on projects or attending meetings. Hopefully he'll be able to come home tonight.

I set my bag down on the table and walk into the kitchen to find something to eat. It's almost two in the afternoon-- I've been fucking starving myself. So I decide to heat up some leftover pizza from lunch yesterday and pull my phone out of my pocket for the first time in an hour.

My phone is filled with Discord notifications. I'm going to have to turn that off. I'm a private person and so many names and tons of information slapping me in the face makes me feel uneasy.

But I notice my name brought up and the queasiness falls away for a moment.

LARBEARAWR: i bet vi is so hot LARBEARAWR: prove em right baby

T0DDLES12: Don't objectify her, Larry.

LARBEARAWR: im not objectifying her im just saying i KNOW shes gotta be hot.

SALLYFʌCɛ: she's not hot.

ASHYPOO <3: Shut up, Sal!!

SALLYFʌCɛ: you need to get into the habit of using my stage name, ash, jeez.

LARBEARAWR: VIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

I roll my eyes, typing back a quick response with a smile pulling at my lips. I was going to ignore it, but Sally's claim made me change my mind. I'll be damned if he goes on thinking I'm not hot. Because I... well, am I hot?

I guess I'll let Larry be the judge of that.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: who said I'm not hot???

SALLYFʌCɛ: that'd be me. you got something to say?

VIOLETVIOLENCE: yup. you a bitch.

T0DDLES12: Laughing my ass off.

LARBEARAWR: fuck todd just use abbreviations damn that's weird LARBEARAWR: we wanna know ur laughing but not REALLY like be a normal fcking person

I giggle over Todd and Larry's banter. They're quite a duo. Larry is just so informal and then Todd... well, he's the exact opposite. How have they been able to get along for this long?

With a sigh, I chew on my nails and debate sending them a photo of myself. Not my face, of course, but something just to get everyone off my back for a bit. 

The last time I thought Sally was far away from me, he ended up being in front of my face. To say that having to serve him just once caused me to develop some paranoia is an understatement-- so if I'm going to do this, I'm going to change my clothes. I don't need anyone recognizing what I'm wearing.

With a sigh and shaky hands, I shut my phone off and take slow steps to my bedroom. The door feels like it weighs two tons-- though that's my own doing. Instead of just telling them that they don't need to know what I look like, I'm making things harder on myself because I feel the need to prove Sal wrong. But what if he's not wrong?

My brows furrow as I contradict myself-- that doesn't even matter because Sal-- Sally-- is wrong. I'm totally hot. I have to be.

I skip over to my closet with some pep in my step, rifling through shirts and immediately throwing Sally's merch to the ground. I might as well throw that away. 

Or...

A petty little smile pulls at my lips. I lift the hoodie and throw it over my shoulder. It's blue-- the color of his hair-- with SALLY FACE diagonally written across the front in an almost scratchy black font. 

I grab Larry's merch hoodie too-- the same one that Sal-- dammit, Sally-- wore the day he walked into my diner. Larry's hoodie is all black with some fun red designs running down the sleeves and his name-- also in red-- in big bubble letters on the front. His popular saying, "Zesty, Voluptuous Mommy Milkers" is on the back of the hoodie and that's part of the reason why I bought it in the first place.

Then, I just grab a plain pair of skinny black jeans and leather combat boots.

I set my phone against the drawers in my room and throw on Sally's hoodie first. I take one, singular picture of me, from the neck down, flicking off the camera. Then, I switch to Larry's hoodie and take one with a thumbs up, then another with my back towards the camera while pointing at his ridiculous catch phrase.

My hands shake and my mouth goes dry as I load the first photo in Sally's hoodie before pressing send. My finger hovers over the button, never touching the screen.

Honestly, I'm horrified. What is he going to say? What are they all going to say?

SALLYFʌCɛ: VioletViolence is a pussy-- clearly. she doesn't want us to see that she's actually some old guy preying on younger hotties. 

ASHYPOO <3: Dude, stop being such a dick. Do you not remember that I've met Vi like... hundreds of times??

SALLYFʌCɛ: you sure this is actually her? what proof do you have, huh?

There's my cue. With a little guilty smile, I press send.

The chat is quiet for an uncomfortably long time. I'm still in Larry's hoodie and my anxiety is so bad that I lift the collar of it and pull the fabric over my face, sniffing the washing detergent Dad has used since I was a child. It's comforting and nostalgic for the moment.

I hear a notification so I glance over the edge of the hoodie, seeing a message from Todd.

T0DDLES12: See, she's not ugly. T0DDLES12: Wait, is that Sal's merchandise?

Yes, Todd. Yes, it is. Thank you a thousand times over for taking the bait. This is working out better than I thought it would and my nervousness is gone as quick as it came.

I put the other two photos of me in Larry's merch then press send, typing out:

VIOLETVIOLENCE: sorry, wrong pic! here's what i meant to send <3

My heart skips a beat and I push out a big breath, feeling heat crawl up my cheeks as I wait for someone else to type in the chat.

LARBEARAWR: hot as fuck. 10/10. BARK RUFF QUACK RIBBIT AWOOGA

I knew he'd like that. A giggle falls from my lips and I cradle my phone, reading over Larry's message repeatedly. He's being a bit extra and really exaggerating, but I appreciate it regardless.

ASHYPOO &lt;3: Just as pretty as I remember <333333 ASHYPOO <3: Send your tit!! ASHYPOO <3: Tat** hehehehe

Funny, but that's a no-go. The only person who's seen my tattoo is Dad-- but what's the issue in sending it? Why am I afraid? Because I'll be showing skin? It shouldn't be that big of a deal. Why am I insecure over it?

ASHYPOO &lt;3: I'd love to prove who you are to Sal-- but you don't have to send if you don't want to!

Ah, well, that's quite an incentive. It would prove who I am to Sally. He knows what I have as my tattoo, so it would be a clear indication that I'm not lying.

But I decide to joke with them a bit before finding out how to get a clear picture of the tattoo on my side.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: want bikini pics of me too ash??? what's next-- my titties??????? VIOLETVIOLENCE: oh sorry, i mean my zesty, voluptuous mommy milkers???????????

LARBEARAWR: please LARBEARAWR: god, please

ASHYPOO &lt;3: I mean... will you be upset if I agree with Lar?

T0DDLES12: I'm down for Vi's breasts. Can I get hands in the chat?

A true, genuine laugh reverberates through my room. It takes a moment for me to realize that I'm the one who did it-- fuck, I love my friends.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: one sec

I move to lift Larry's hoodie over my head. I'll have to move my shirt too since the tattoo is right on my bra line. Sometimes I regret getting it in such a hard to reach place.

My phone suddenly blows up with notifications and I nearly drop it onto the ground at my feet. I flinch back, looking down at my phone with furrowed brows and wide eyes.

LARBEARAWR: WUT???? LARBEARAWR: TITTIES??? MILKERS???? LARBEARAWR: B-B-B-BREASTS???? LARBEARAWR: UR SENDING THEM VI????

T0DDLES12: ^^^ Really? I thought we were only joking around. Let me prepare. I'll pull Neil in for this one.

ASHYPOO &lt;3: Woah, holy hell-- Vi's sweet, juicy titties? I've been waiting for this day my entire life.  ASHYPOO <3: Let me get my camera ready-- screenshots just won't do. This is going in a picture book. I'm making an album just for your titties. Dedicated to the one and only VioletViolence. 

Oh, fuck. Seems I didn't specify what I meant. 

VIOLETVIOLENCE: NO VIOLETVIOLENCE: sorry, i did NOT mean titties. just sending my tat.

LARBEARAWR: :( LARBEARAWR: ook but can we get titty pics 2??????

VIOLETVIOLENCE: maybe. VIOLETVIOLENCE: for you ;)

I love this banter with Larry-- he's such a funny guy. I enjoy talking with him, Todd, and Ash. And speaking of which, Sally's been pretty quiet.

LARBEARAWR: O_O LARBEARAWR: r we flirting????? is that what this is???? LARBEARAWR: omg vi *bites lip* r u trna smash? me????

I snicker, ignoring the messages and maneuvering my body and phone around to try and get a clear picture of my tattoo. Minutes pass though and I find myself growing frustrated over the fact that I cannot get a good picture of it for the life of me. No matter what.

I set my phone down again, getting some major deja vu over the fact that I have to do this again. My brain is on overdrive as I throw my worries to the wind and just lift my shirt and bra strap, a photo being taken as the timer counts down on my phone.

When I pull my phone close to my face to inspect the picture, I wince and shut the device off for a second. My "fuck it" moment was a little too much. There's a good bit of underboob in that photo and I don't think I can send it.

My phone vibrates with another notification, so I carefully glance back at it. I haven't even sent the photo and I feel embarrassed by it.

ASHYPOO &lt;3: Tit jokes aside, you really are beautiful, Vi. Inside and out! Never forget it, mi corazón <33333

That makes me warm up a bit and a smile works its way onto my lips again. Damn, Ash. She always knows what to say to make me feel better.

Suddenly, sending the photo doesn't feel as terrible to me. Sure, it still makes me nervous because I'm showing off so much skin, including skin that not a single person has ever seen-- aside from past boyfriends. It feels scary, but I know I can trust my friends and they'll even hype me up over it.

So I send another message before linking the photo.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: omg <3333 ash, don't talk to me in other languages i will melt over you. but seriously, thank you so much. i love you

I quickly send the photo before I can think too hard about it.

Anxious and debating on deleting it as soon as the picture goes through, I send more messages in a panic. I feel the need to pull at the roots of my hair, chew on my lips, crack my knuckles-- all of my nervous habits. My skin is burning hot and my legs won't stop moving.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: undertitties VIOLETVIOLENCE: fuck this scares me ngl VIOLETVIOLENCE: never sent half-titty pics before in my life VIOLETVIOLENCE: #tittypicvirgin

My friends are quick to reply now, filling my endlessly frantic brain with love.

LARBEARAWR: FUCK YES TITTIES LARBEARAWR: rlly tho, ur tat is super nice. titties too. hair is pretty and fluffy and i wanna run my fingers through it like ur a fairy r smthn

ASHYPOO &lt;3: GORGEOUS BEAUTIFUL LOVE OF MY LIFE!!! ASHYPOO <3: Awe, my baby's first titty pic <3 look at you growing up!

T0DDLES12: Voluptuous breasts, indeed. I love the meaning behind your tattoo. I wonder what it means to the band.

What did I ever do to deserve such amazing friends? Never did I think I'd have anyone care for me and support me so dearly, yet here are three. Three people who have been here for me since we were kids. And they still haven't left my side.

Their sweet words make a beaming smile form on my face and it's the sole reason behind my achy cheeks, but it's so worth it.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: guys :,) you're so sweet. thank you for all of this

ASHYPOO &lt;3: Stahppp! There's no need to thank us, we're just telling the truth.

LARBEARAWR: word LARBEARAWR: where's sal btw? ur missing tits bro LARBEARAWR: r u wanking off to vi's pic in ur hoodie r smthng

Oh, shit. My eyes widen as I stare at Larry's message in shock. I can't believe he said that. But I'm also really happy that he did say it. This puts the heat on Sally and gives me something to cackle over.

Like he hasn't been gone for the past five or so minutes, Sally's username pops up in the chat.

SALLYFʌCɛ: eat shit, larry.

My cackling starts immediately. I thought it'd be something I'd do in the dead of night as I wait for sleep to take me, but it's come early. All because it is painfully obvious that Sally's message is guilty denial.

At least, I hope.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: it's okay to be honest, sally. masturbation is healthy!

His response is immediate again. He's been close to his phone.

SALLYFʌCɛ: i'm not even joking right now, i fucking hate you violetfucking whoever you are. 

VIOLETVIOLENCE: awe but i totally wore your hoodie so you'd fall in love with me :(

This feels so good. I wanted a reaction and I'm getting it. Sally's messages fill me with adrenaline. I can practically feel my blood rushing through my veins. I can smell the anger in his text. I can taste his rage from all the way across the United Sates. It feels so incredibly invigorating.

SALLYFʌCɛ: choke on my damn dick.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: is that a threat or a promise? i have a pretty resilient throat. no gagging.

I send a thumbs up and lose it on my bedroom floor. I roll onto my back, laughing so hard that tears spill from the corners of my eyes. I find that with every single day of being close to The Faces, I feel so much better. I feel too good even if Sally's a dick. I feel so damn good that I trick myself into thinking that I'd be okay without my antidepressants. That's dangerous.

The chat is silent and I feel like I'm on top of the world. That's a clear win for me.

SALLYFʌCɛ has left the channel.

Oh, well, shit. I didn't exactly mean for that to happen.

---------

A/N::::: heheheheheheh i hope this is an enjoyable chapter <333 

it was kinda hard to get out. im such a huge fan of scenes with sal so i have to remind myself to be patient with these boring parts! i kinda hate the middle of this chapter, but i hope you guys like it!

i've been busy between caring for my cat (he is well!), doing school work, battling tummy sickness, and my allergies. but i'm working my hardest to fulfill my promises to you guys! next is maybe today! 

when do you guys think sal and y/n will finally meet again since she isn't going to vegas? i'd love to hear your thoughts :3

as always, i love you all with my entire heart! sleep well/have a wonderful day! you complete my life <3333

[quietbluejay]

Angel Exterminatus 8

this is funny to me perturabo who is the one abusing your sons perturabo look at me

typical fascism

you must be drowning in it

manifest destiny! take a shot! you know, the Americans said it was for their survival, too

this is actually a really interesting conversation

no, we're going to fight evil by doing more evil and creating the conditions in which evil flourishes

prayer, fasting, good works, etc have killed millions press x to doubt meanwhile you have killed billions by this point, probably, so even if we do want to evaluate it purely as a numbers game

I don't even think I need to provide the commentary here

BUT I WILL

and I'm gonna pull out the Solzhenitsyn too!

see the thing is prayer fasting etc are all primarily tools for fighting the evil within (insofar as they as used for fighting evil, they do have other purposes) the emperor is doing a classic "externalize the evil and paint a specific outsider group with the "evil" brush" the emperor just being like "we are the good guys thus by default everything we do in the pursuit of our goal is good, morally speaking"

“Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either -- but right through every human heart -- and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains ... an unuprooted small corner of evil. Since then I have come to understand the truth of all the religions of the world: They struggle with the evil inside a human being (inside every human being). It is impossible to expel evil from the world in its entirety, but it is possible to constrict it within each person.”

There's the Solzhenitsyn for you.

I do actually have more but it really only makes sense in the context of the book as a whole so I'll save it to the end I could probably write an entire essay about this

when it comes to eye language, Perturabo is Jared, 19

it's…really weird there's this bit earlier where Perturabo thinks about Magnus in like a friendly fashion but then it's like "he didn't have friends or anyone he was close to, but Fulgrim was probably the closest thing" and then there's this here

ow i know i keep banging on and on about it but it's a repeated theme and motif in these books! that the entire thing was done with a consequentialist mindset but in the end all they had was means

And this did happen to Perturabo! He became the means he employed!

but also, this explains a lot about perturabo's progression through the great crusade i don't know if this is super well supported by the text, maybe I'm just going out on a limb but the feeling I'm getting is that a lot of why he was so bitter was because he did end up realizing that all they had was their means an endless array of them and that also plays a role in/contributes to him leaving all his designs unbuilt i don't think it's the only thing (behind his bitterness) but i definitely think it plays a role and honestly it feels much more important to him and fits in what i've seen of his character so far than being bitter due to being passed over for recognition, and being given the rough jobs which is what i see people say is the big reason for his bitterness like don't get me wrong i think that's playing a role, it's the cherry on top of the shit sundae but it's insult to injury rather than the injury itself okay tbf i haven't read any other perturabo books so maybe his characterization is different in the other ones?

"idealism and hope" we established at the beginning of the book that the iron warriors have been ground down by the constant war but yeah this is absolutely leading up to him ragequitting the siege of terra

perturabo makes an account on alternatehistory.com and manages in a record period of time to get banned oh boy Soulaka looking through the rescued third legion trying to help like ?????

RIP

also why is everyone weird about the four humours in like 3/4 of the books i've read

okay this is going to be an interesting exchange between fulgrim and perturabo popcorn.gif

[veradragonjedi]

I'm asking for BBB Luke lore 🤲

ABSJSGGXUZGSJHS OKAY— ARHH

I'm so eeped about this because!!! Aroorororororo omg???? AAAAA thank you, you total legend.

Here is the bit I wrote a while back about Tatooine Lore, plus how he survived with weaker skin, and here is a little about how I worked around the traditional aspect of a vampire and how their creation might carefully slot into the gffa!

I think I'd really like to freaking talk about his mental state, loneliness, longing, self-loathing etc, sooo this is slightly heavier? But you write like the most doomed-to-fail angst-ridden stories, so I think you're alright with it. (I won't go into triggering territory as that stuff is barely mentioned in the story fr, I just wanna spill somewhere yk??)

I wanna preface this by saying that I have not completely rewritten Luke's character to be apathetic or depressing, and that his soft and cheerful demeanour and sweet behaviours naturally shine through his Jedi Master veil (pun unintended). But, when you're a vampire, and when vampires are notoriously whispered about in the far corners of your galaxy to be thieves, murderers, blood-drinkers etc, it becomes very difficult to make and maintain healthy relationships with those around you. And, as we know that in the actual OT, Luke's relationship with his friends, father, Master, sister, and his trust in all of them, is what guides him and leads him to conquer the darkness in the galaxy, when Luke loses that trust, he begins to lose faith in everything else he knows.

Not only that, but that darkness begins to return. (We don't talk about that yet. 🤫)

Anyway, I think anyone who has experienced a kind of betrayal and loneliness like he has is unready to actually place themselves in a situation where they might face the same ordeal. (You read more about that betrayal, hurt and anguish in chapter 9!)

That's where Din comes in. Aaaand also why Luke is so determined to know whether Din plans to leave him or not in the future. He's been left behind numerous times in his life. If Din leaves, especially with Grogu, he won't be able to continue living knowing that he's failed.

At least Grogu will be safe, right?

This leads him down a very very dark, repetitive mindset once he begins to develop feelings for Din. This loop looks something like this. 👇

I am a Jedi -> no attachments -> I am attached to Din -> therefore Din must leave Yavin, as he is a detriment to my training -> if he leaves Yavin, I won't be able to cope alone, as he will take Grogu and my purpose will be stripped from me -> if Din leaves Yavin, I will die -> I don't want to die, as I haven't completely my training, and the Force will not accept me -> but I am a Jedi -> Jedi have no attachments -> I am attached to Din.

And so on and so forth.

As well as, I love Din -> Din could not possibly love me -> if I tell him I love him, he will leave me, because he doesn't love me -> if he leaves me, I will die -> I don't want to die -> but living with Din when he's outside my reach hurts me -> which means Din has to leave -> if he leaves I will die -> I don't want to die -> I don't want to die because I have Din -> I love Din

As you can see, it's viscious. (I'm viscious. Me. The author. I'm not always mean to Luke I swear-)

Sooo... its a bit of a predicament, as you can see, but I won't explain how I solve it, as that's for my readers to live in fear about.

I also love believing that Luke has ADHD, PTSD and other anxiety disorders, hallucinative tendencies — because, as a vampire, he is particularly intuned to the Force, and can see things that many people can not.

I'll leave it at the last idea that, when he sees things that others can't, it bothers him, because often it is an irregularity, a shift from his comfortable zone in spacetime, or the demons rapping at his door, and he can't change it because it is out of his dimension :3

Anyway! Thank you so much, Nova. I really needed this OFF my chest and AT someone. Ily, ty :3

Actually gonna add my taglist here- ♡

@airlocksandaviaries @positivityjediprince @surfing-on-a-soundwave @materassassino @vanishedangels @idkbishsss @jspookywolf @pebblish (tell me if you'd like to be added or removed!)

+ @iamscoby (cos u aren't on the chapter tagliatelle, but ik u get the emails ♡)

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e6 heaven can't wait (w. robert barens)

first episode with this writer. not sure i'm in the best mindset to do this but let's try. suicide hotline straight out of the gate not helping

i'm glad misha played this bit with the machine straight, i was more worried that he was going to be touching his phone with wet sticky fingers

sam looking especially giant next to kevin like this

so i can't imagine they'd recycle the exact same plot of cas getting wooed by pretty lady who's actually trying to kill him, but if she's above board she.... needs to raise her standards and stick to the no dating your employees rule.

DEAN Were they all basket cases? SHERIFF If you asked me to make a list of this county's saddest sacks, these four would've been right on top.

right, again, nothing new. but i'm tired of how they talk about mental illness. also. it's me, hi, i'm the saddest sack, it's me. literally have sad sack in my twitter profile. anyway i know this is before the always keep fighting campaign and jared talking about his experiences with mental illness

unclear how bodily tissues and clothes all turn into bright pink residue for everyone

the mushy music swells

dean's being kind of an asshole here to cas about him having to work at the gas station. like it's so funny, he's dealing with being human for the first time (and the writers have made him very clueless) and you kicked him out your home and he had nothing and nowhere to stay so he was supposed to .... do what exactly

CROWLEY You think you can threaten me with that hack?! She's all fury, no finesse. SAM I'm not so sure. Our last encounter with Abaddon, she was, uh – she was pretty terrifying. Scarier than you've been in years.

laughed out loud at sam's not remotely subtle attempts to make crowley jealous

CASTIEL You are a hunter. DEAN And you're a hunter in training, remember? CASTIEL Yeah, I remember. You said I sucked. DEAN I didn't say that. I said that there was, uh, uh, you know, "room for improvement." Come on. CASTIEL All right, my shift's over in five minutes, and my date's not until later, so... DEAN Attaboy! I'll go get the car.

kinda treating cas like a doormat. feel like he should be more pissed at dean than he is. then again i thought dean should have been more pissed at him a whole bunch of times so. even steven

DEAN What, you're saying an angel did this? CASTIEL It's no ordinary angel. Dean, this is bad. This is very bad.

you've heard of arch angels but what if i told you there were super mega bad arch angels

getting dean's quick guide to dating

okay boss lady, next time you're trying to ask if someone can babysit, mention the baby. and the sitting. and the babysitting

LOL like drawing blood works like this. this show and needles is so goofy :p most shows are. but like you can just jab a needle straight down into your arm and draw blood is especially goofy.

know that i know the song cas is singing (believe it or not by joey scarbury) because george had an answering machine message spoof of it in an episode of seinfeld...

this baby is a DOLL! my god. precious 🥹

CASTIEL Nobody told you. Nobody explained. You're just … shoved out kicking and screaming into this human life, without any idea why any of it feels the way it feels, or why this confusion, which feels like it's … a hair's breadth (The baby stops crying.) from terror or pain. You know, just when you think you do understand, it'll turn out you're wrong. You didn't understand anything at all. Guess that's just how it is when you're new at this. You know, it wasn't that long ago when all I'd need to do to ease your pain was touch you.

i am glad they're addressing this aspect of how hard it would actually be to suddenly have to deal with being human for cas

reminiscing about the time dean was sweet with the shifter baby

s6e2 two and a half men because i'm soft for baby cuddles

curious where they're going with this and crowley. giving him a little mini redemption arc?

DEAN Listen, Cas … Back at the bunker, I, uh... Sorry I told you to go. I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Well, you're adapting. I'm proud of you. CASTIEL Thank you, Dean. (Sighs) But there's something Ephraim said. The angels – they need help. Can I really sit this out? Shouldn't I be searching for a way to get them home? DEAN Me and Sam will take care of the angels. You're human now. It's not your problem anymore.

glad he apologized. i think he should have offered to help with money or something. should have given him a bundle when he booted him in the first place. if we're on the cas-is-family train, dean is good at taking care of people and knows what it's like to be food insecure and unhoused. he's falling down on that job with cas right now. if they want me to take their relationship as seriously as they talk it up to be, gotta follow through with more actions

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

BMT, what do you think of the capitalistic "exponential growth" mindset that Bang PD touted in his CNN interview? Do you think that cultural products can be so easily marketed like tech devices or other "hard" products? Is there really demand for kpop if the growth is slowing? It's much harder to market music than a laptop or a car imo.

Well, as you said, it's a cultural product, emphasis on product. That's definitely the companies' perspective and a significant component of the industry. Pop music or K-pop in this case is made in such a way that can be marketed. In Bang PD's vision, the product needs to be heavily exported and he's being bullish on Western markets. Domestic success is but one component that somehow is not enough. I think he does want a type of K-Pop supremacy on an international scale and he believes is doable thanks to the BTS model because it proved to be successful. Except that specific formula, even if recreated and marketed, cannot automatically work in all cases. There's an element of chance, of being there at the right time and at the right place. BTS became the perfect example of commercial success because it's somehow situated in the middle. It's easily accesible and digestible in order to reach and create a big fandom. The reliance on personality and social media outlets and media contents contributed to that.

Do I think his vision could work? Not really. He said he's not a Caesar, but he did come across as a megalomaniac in the interview. He wants it all and he wants to be the one to do it. Some have said that albums and concert tickets sales are not actually markers of growth for the k-pop industry and that indeed, it slowed down and how it's not at the level of impact latin music and afro beats currently have. That may be so, but I didn't do any in depth research on this.

But what does stand out is the fact that I see a sort of self colonizing mindset here which gets a bit more complicated due to SK's political and occupational history, particularly the American influence. There's a hint of inferiority compared to the Western market and it ends up being seen as an ideal, which in turn should become the ideal for K-Pop as well. At least that's how I interpreted the interview he gave.

The need for monopoly and to only have one big representative in each industry (think of phones, cars and airlines) now has reached the music industry. What Bang PD is saying is through the perspective of globalization. A process that post-pandemic/in coming recession seems to have suffered a shift. If commerce is now focused in more local spaces due to economic woes, cultural trades are not that heavily affected because there is no reason to. Pop culture can still be exported, including K-Pop in this case. It has always been like that, except now we're seeing a more aggresive push towards that. And Bang PD wants it to come from one big source.

[strayslost]

thinking about chuuya and kouyou's perspectives on the PM and what they do in it... my headcanons on them change very easily so i might do a 180 on these but still. under the cut for length

in my mind (and this is mostly how i interpret them on this blog for fun rather than what i think is canon), chuuya does to an extent believe that the port mafia is doing good for the city. it's the "dirty work" that needs to be done that no-one wants to do, controlling and organizing crime, etc. but he also is aware that he's doing bad things and could probably be called a bad person for supporting the organization - he just doesn't care, because to him, he prioritizes the people he cares about personally over the lives of other people / the "innocent."

kind of like... he thinks the PM is necessary and does SOME good, but even in the places where it's not and it's just hurting people, he still sticks with them because his family comes first. he's willing to hurt innocents/do the "wrong" thing if it means protecting them. (both physically and emotionally, and from prison, etc)

however, he does still have a moral compass, and there are things in the PM that make him uncomfortable that he doesn't want to support. so he kind of... takes a few different approaches depending on what it is - either he chooses not to care because of the above "family comes first" mindset, or he lies to himself a little and tells himself either that it's necessary; that he can't do anything about it or that he's wrong for being uncomfortable to begin with. not trusting his own judgement, basically. hopefully one day, he'll take control of the pm from mori and learn that he can make the mafia a better place, actually listen to his own moral judgements and shape the organization into something different.

(listen it may not be realistic because it's still the mafia but this is fiction therefore. i do not care. disclaimer that my views on the PM do not reflect my views on the real mafia etc. etc. lol)

kouyou on the other hand... compared to chuuya, there's far less that genuinely makes her uncomfortable in the PM (with a few exceptions), and that's part of why she sees herself as a bad person who could never be good even if she wanted to. she knows the PM does some good for the city, but that's not as important to her as it might be to chuuya - instead, her mindset is more like. even if she left the PM, it would still exist and people would still be hurt because of it - so it doesn't matter to her if she's the one doing the hurting. even if she left, she'd just be replaced, though admittedly the organization probably would take a hit - but it wouldn't ultimately change anything about how it functions.

if that's the case, she'd rather be selfish and live the life she knows, that she's grown comfortable with, and as an executive have some power over what the PM does that she wouldn't have outside it. she does want to help make the organization better with mori, but it's more for the sake of the people within it than those outside it. hopefully, her loyalty would shift to chuuya if he ended up taking over, and she'd realize that it's okay for her to want to be a little bit "good." because a big part of it too honestly is like... she doesn't think she's capable of being in the light? or that she deserves it?? and i'd like for her to change that mindset, and like chuuya, work on making the PM better than it is now.

(or they could both leave. i'd be happy with that option too. they deserve better than the PM as it is now, is what I'm saying!!)

so basically comparing them to each other - to an extent they believe the PM does some good (chuuya moreso than kouyou) but they're also aware that it does a lot of bad / that not everything it does is necessary, either. chuuya responds to this "bad" by either deciding that he cares about his family more than outsiders, or by lying to himself about his discomfort and repressing it. kouyou responds by believing that someone would be doing the "bad" no matter what, so it might as well be her. as for why they stay to begin with - for chuuya, it's about having a home and a family he cares for there. kouyou is mostly the same, but for her it's also a fear of the "light" and believing she's incapable of living that way. (though chuuya does hold this belief to an extent too...) they both have lines they don't want to cross though, and eventually with character development might come to see that they do want to be better people than they are now, and are capable of doing that, either through leaving the PM or changing it fundamentally as an institution.