#ive spent so long on this for basically no reason

[stupid-and-cute-are-enough]

for the past 4 days, i've descended into madness over the anon getting turned into an animatronic. behold. 2.6k words @get-rammed i've gone insane

as always, i spew BTS lore in the tags

“Alright, that’s everything,” his Handler announces, finishing the paint on his last claw. They give his hand a satisfied pat. Monty watches as they turn away and begin packing up their things, making idle chatter as they do, offhandedly mentioning that they hope it isn’t too late by the time they actually get to head home. They told him earlier that they’ve got a meeting with the higher-ups once they’re done tonight, and it’s been weighing on him all day.

“I don’t think you should go to that meeting,” he says because he can’t take it any longer.

They pause. “What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t think you should go.” Monty clenches his fists in his lap. It doesn’t feel right. If it was any other lame meeting announced in a staff email, sure, but this isn’t one of those. They were approached in person. No documents, nothing written; just pulled them aside this morning and told them something about enhancing the Handler experience. All of the other Handlers have gone home already, too, and there’s nothing that they could want just his for that meant anything good.

They huff fondly. “I don’t really have a choice, Monty.”

They keep getting ready, a sinking feeling forming in Monty. He tries again to explain that it’s a bad idea again but is gently shut down. His Handler hugs his head on their way out, an act he’d usually eat up and crave more of, but tonight, he feels like rejecting it. It just feels so wrong.

“Sweets, please, don’t go.” He grabs onto their sleeve. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Their face softens. “I hear you, Monty, but I have to. I’ll probably get fired if I don’t.” They laugh a little. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Worst-case scenario, they dump a mountain of work on me. Everything’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, big guy.”

—

They announced a new animatronic the very next day.

The announcement made Monty raise a brow because even with his debut as a Glamrock, as rushed as it was, Fazzbear Entertainment still took their time to milk it for all its worth. Surely, with a brand-new animatronic, they’d pull out all of the theatrics. But, no, management had just called everyone backstage (Monty was grabbed by Chica’s Handler because his still wasn’t here, and it worried him. They always tell him if they’re going to be late) and spilled the news.

It’s another gator, which, geez, thanks, corporate. It’s dressed in actual clothes, unlike the rest of them. It’s a little smaller than Monty, with a sleeker design. Monty eyes the new thing up and down. There’s something… wrong with it. Monty feels it. So does the rest of the band. It stands across from them, eyes too wide, taking in too much yet too little information at the same time. Its hands are clutched together, held tightly to its chest. It’s a shambling mess, really. Barely finished and definitely not ready for crowds. The thing really needs a Handler, which only reminds Monty of the empty space by his side.

It’s different from them. It doesn’t fill its body like it’s supposed to. A feeling of uneasiness washes over the room. Even the other Handlers look a little disturbed.

After the incredibly lackluster introduction, dampened by the uneasiness of everyone in the room, management gives up on pleasantries and snaps at everyone to prepare for opening time. They leave without further explanation, not even telling everyone what the newcomer is supposed to be doing. Everyone takes the chance to leave as fast as possible, abandoning the barely functional animatronic where it stands.

Something in Monty tells him to linger, as disturbed as he is. The sinking feeling he had last night returns tenfold.

It looks too familiar. Cautiously, Monty approaches the thing, eyeing the uniform it wears. He dares not to peek at the nametag displayed proudly on its chest. The animatronic tilts its head up at him slightly, or at least it tries. Monty can hear the inner mechanics going, but it remains frozen. He stands uncomfortably in front of it, unsure of what to do. Everything about it feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong.

He peeks at the nametag, and his world comes crashing down. Surely not. They couldn’t have shoved a whole person, a full consciousness, inside of an animatronic, could they? That technology doesn’t exist, right? Right?

Monty reaches out a shaking hand, staring into the bot’s blank, red eyes. It can’t be. Fazzbear has done some fucked up, shady stuff, but they wouldn’t do this, would they? This has to be too far. It has to. His hand touches their forearm, feeling the all-too-familiar fabric of the Handler uniforms under his finger pads. He meets their eyes, registering the terror behind their blank stare.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, it’s... I, uh-”

“M-” Their voice fries out, and their jaw moves unnaturally. But it’s enough for Monty. That’s their voice. That’s their voice. Monty feels something vile fester inside of him. If he could get sick, he would. That’s them. That’s them in there. They’re in there. That’s his Handler, who he saw just last night, in there.

Their stare is so blank. Their hands are clutched together so tightly. That’s them.

“Oh, sweets…”

His hands slide down their arms to take their hands, snagging his thumb on the cuff of their uniform as he goes. Something there catches his eyes, though, something a human eye would miss, but something he’s been trained to notice. A tiny speckle of blood stained into the fabric. Their blood.

Monty sucks in a breath, his grip on their hands tightening. They were hurt when this was done to them. They bled.

“Let’s go to my green room,” he says. He keeps his voice gentle, but there’s also no room to argue. He doesn’t think they could, anyway. They don’t respond to him or make any kind of movement, so Monty moves for them. Slowly, painfully, he guides them up to his green room, keeping a gentle set of hands on them the entire way. They stumble and would’ve fallen without Monty to catch them. Their tail drags limply behind them. They probably don’t know how to use it for balance yet. The word yet makes Monty’s heart hurt.

He ensures the door stays open as they shuffle into his room, hovering over them until they’ve been cautiously guided to sit on the couch. They don’t need to struggle to stand anymore. Monty doesn’t think he could handle seeing it.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he says. It’s a lie. It’s an awful, horrible lie, but what else is he supposed to say?

They try to speak again, but their voice fries into something that sounds like a quiet cry. Their body begins to tremble, their hands clenching around each other even harder. All tell-tale signs that they’re crying, but they don’t have tears anymore. Instead, their eyes just stare into the wall, unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry, sweets,” he says as they weep. He sits beside them on the couch, cautiously wrapping his body around theirs. He doesn’t know if the different sensations will upset them even further, but he also doesn’t know what else to do.

“H-” A billow of steam rolls out of their jaw, rattling their whole system. The sudden movement startles Monty, making him pull away.

“Hey, sweets, you-” Monty glances into their eyes, wide, sightless, terrified, with a slack jaw pouring steam, “you need to calm down. I know it seems like I’m askin’ the impossible of ya, but you’ll overheat yourself, and I dunno how to fix that.”

Their body shudders, unresponsive to their mind. Monty doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to help. He remembers what they did when he first came online and when he was given his new body. They surrounded him with familiar, comforting things, but his Handler doesn’t live here like he does. At least they didn’t. Their greatest comforts are probably far out of Monty’s reach. He searches around his green room, trying to find anything he knows helps them relax.

He spots a fidget they used to love playing with during his noon charging sessions. It should be simple enough; it just needs a pushing and pulling motion. Nothing complicated. But his Handler’s hands don’t react, even as he pries them apart and presses the fidget into their palm. Their fingers remain tense, not even twitching.

“Okay, something easier. I got it. I’ve got you.”

Monty reaches and grabs one of the oversized plushies lying beside the two of them on the couch. It’s big enough for him to comfortably interact with, so it should be good enough for them, too, right? He places the weighted plush in their lap, tucking its arms in so his Handler doesn’t have to do it themself. It looks like they try to wrap their arms around the plush, but the thing just ends up getting knocked to the floor. The failure to get their arms to work only serves to upset his Handler more as their hands begin trembling, the metal of the digits clinking together. 

Monty looks up at them, scared for them. Scared with them. If they can’t function, they’re going to be decommissioned– not fired, not still alive, decommissioned and dead. Gone forever. Their head has turned slightly, staring intensely at something, so Monty follows their line of sight. His gaze lands on their jacket that they accidentally left last night, draped across a chair. Now a little shaky himself, Monty gets up and retrieves it for them.

He realizes once he gets back that it doesn’t fit them anymore. It used to be so big on them, but it doesn’t fit now. Their favorite jacket, the one they wore every day, doesn’t fit anymore. He drapes it over their shoulders, bringing it around them tightly. Their shoulders are bigger under his hands. Wider. Their body is like his own now and so very, very different from what it used to be.

He retakes their hands, kneeling in front of them. He meets their eyes, which stare deep into whatever kind of soul he has.

“Look at me, Chere,” he says, squeezing their hands, trying to ground them. He’d tell them to breathe with him, but they can’t anymore, and he doesn’t know if that’ll help or upset them. “I’ve got you. I promise. I won’t ever, ever let anything else happen to you. I promise.”

Their hands squeeze his own, and Monty lets out his own version of a sigh of relief. The shaking in their limbs begins to die down, the steam eventually coming to an end. He smiles at them, keeping his hold on their hands solid. He praises them softly, rubbing their knuckles.

Their eyes meet his properly, and Monty can see the hurt and the fear in their eyes. They shift, jaw moving experimentally.

“I… can’t breathe,” they say.

Monty’s heart breaks for them. They try to shift, try to grab onto their jacket and pull it tighter around them, but their limbs won’t cooperate, and the metal of their fingers slips against the satin material.

“Here, you gotta… you gotta grip with the pads of your fingers. Like this,” Monty says, taking hold of their hands and guiding their fingers to do so. A shudder runs through their system, getting their hands to tighten and pull, if only slightly.

Monty steps back to take another look at the design of their new body. A gator, like him. Their hair is soft and synthetic, with a little product to keep it sleek, so at least that wasn’t taken from them. In a bitter-sweet kind of way, Monty can imagine helping them style their hair in the morning when the dust settles. But Monty still has trouble adjusting to his mohawk, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for them right now. How long it’ll take for that dust to settle. They’re smaller than him. Sleeker. A little more compact and able to fit into tighter spaces. Probably equipped with the same processing power Monty has, and he prays to whatever is out there, none of the guardrails. Overall, they’re… built to work. They were hurt, maybe even killed, their body broken, disposed of, and shoved into this body to work. To work! They never get to go home again; they never get to have a life outside of the Pizzaplex ever again, all so Fazzbear Entertainment could have another obedient little worker.

Monty shoves down his anger. They don’t need that right now. Instead, he turns his energy to muster up the best smile he can, affirming the correct motions with their hands.

“There you go, you’ve got it.” His smile wavers a little at their silence. 

They stare at their hands, their new, robotic, alien hands. Hands that don’t listen when they tell them to move. A body that doesn’t listen. They grip around the fabric of their jacket, feeling, in a way, the mechanics whirr in their arms. But they don’t feel the silky fabric anywhere but their finger pads. They feel the warmth of Monty in front of them, holding onto them, but only in broad strokes. It’s not like skin. It’ll never be like skin. There’s no more blood, only coolant (they feel so cold), no nerves, no organs. No lungs. Those things are still there, in a way, in a robotic sense.

All of the essential bits keeping their body moving are still there. But it’s not their body. Flashes of blood and mutilation streak across their vision the longer they stare. They have claws now. And a snout. And a tail. They always thought it’d be kind of cool to have a tail, who doesn’t, but not like this. They don’t want this. They want to go home and lay in bed and fall asleep and hope that this is some god-awful dream. They want to fight with their ID at the stupid maintenance tunnel exit, and drive home tired, and wake up five hours later to come to work and do it all over again. 

“... sweets?”

They look up to Monty, sight still a little unclear. He looks worried. He looks scared. They don’t think they’ve ever seen him scared. He tentatively takes their hands, prying the fabric away before they rip something.

They stay there, Monty kneeling, Handler sitting, staring at each other. Lost, scared, confused. Neither quite sure what to say.

“I wanna go home,” they eventually settle on. They can see the resolve in Monty crack.

“I know, sweets.” He rubs their knuckles again. They’re disturbed by how little they can feel of it. “I’m so sorry they did this to you.”

They want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he has nothing to be sorry for, but the words don’t come to them. So, instead, they sit in silence. Awful, dreadful silence.

Eventually, Monty stands, still holding their hands in his. “You’ve gotta be getting… tired,” he murmurs. “Here, I’ll show you how to get charged.”

His Handler know how. They’ve helped Monty settle in to get charged a million times. But it’s different now. They need to charge. Their battery isn’t running low, they don’t think anyway, but the emotional drain is enough for them to take the carefully offered out. Monty gets them set up, gently explaining things as he goes, like what it’s going to feel like at first and how entering standby will kind of feel like sleeping (at least, what he’s pretty sure sleeping feels like). When everything is said and done, and Monty is sure they’ll be out for a while, he turns to eye the big door that separates his room from the rest of the Pizzaplex.

His curtains are closed, and he’s going to make sure it stays that way. For a long time.

[secondplayercanada]

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[arolesbianism]

Some Brute doodles plus a bonus Button

[taahko]

I just found your blog today can you please explain or point out a post that explains the MASH timeloop thing? I love the show but I've never heard anyone talk abt it that way before

oh yay hurray ive been waiting for an excuse to talk about this lmao sorry this is long

ok so basically maeve (my gf) and i started watching mash for the first time about a month ago and we started joking about it being like the characters were stuck in a time loop mostly because the same basic episode format is repeated over and over, because it's a sitcom from the 70s and the episodes arent meant to be watched en masse where you can start noticing all the little repetitions and plot holes and inconsistencies that naturally occur in longform tv

but then i started to pay attention to the dates being mentioned in the show - famously the korean war never technically ended, but american troops were involved in active on the ground fighting between 1950 and 1953, so the entire 11 seasons of mash have to be squeezed into that three year period. with 251 episodes occurring within 1,129 days, that gives every episode about 4.5 days of real time. so it works right? no time loop right? well wait a sec

for the first 5 seasons or so of mash they give very consistent dates about when things are happening. for example, bj arrives in korea in september of 1952, at the start of season 4. colonel potter arrives about a week after him, and talks about how he has 18 months left before his retirement. that gives us about 7 months for the shows final 7 seasons to take place in, meaning that by the episode 'point of view' in season 7 we should be around december of 1952. in that episode the pov character starts writing a letter home and in the corner he writes the date:

september of 1951. ok, could be that this episode isn't meant to take place in the regular timeline of the season - maybe for some reason its just like, a random flashback episode. but bj, charles, and potter are all present, even though none of them got to korea until 1952. now i KNOW that this is not like, the True Hidden Secret Lore of MASH, this is the writers realizing they were running out of road and turning back the clock a bit to accommodate for how long the show was running on. but play in my time loop space with me please

more talking points:

consistent jokes about time zones and how difficult it is to call the states because "our today is their yesterday but if you call them now it might not reach them until our tomorrow and by that point our yesterday will be their today"

hawkeye's increasing mania over the seasons and his conviction that the war will never end, comparing the camp to dante's inferno multiple times. maeve once pointed out that the closer hawkeye comes to realizing that he's trapped in a time loop the closer he gets to being institutionalized - and what does the series finale cold open onto ? hawkeye in a mental institution. the only way out is to lose yourself etc. sidenote frank also escaped the time loop by going insane and getting institutionalized

in a war for all seasons bj potter and charles are all present at the 1951 new years party as well as the 1952 new years party

there are three christmas episodes, two of which bj is present for even though he should only have spent one christmas in korea

details of people's families and lives shift around - sometimes potter's got multiple grandchildren, sometimes he only has one, sometimes its a girl, sometimes its a boy, sometimes she's 5, sometimes he's 2

we're not the first people to talk about this either, here's a good video compilation posted a couple yrs ago of time loop moments

overall ive been using the time loop thesis to add another layer to my mash viewing experience. it increases the already present sense of constant dread, anger, frustration, and disgust with their situation that the characters feel, plus it feels like a very poignant take on the united states' constant warmongering and violent existence. it really never ends, it just goes on an on. the future's been canceled by the war department- we're just gonna replay the past.

[dinogoofy]

I KNOW IVE BEEN GONE FOR A WHILE BUT I COME BEARING GIFTS HEEEHEE

This starts out as bullet points but there's a fully written scene at the end, its just long enough that I'd rather put a cut so that it's easier to scroll past if need be.

Also, if yall were fans of Draco and Hermione as a ship, EAT UP!!!

Mk1! RAIN X RIVAL! READER

Think about it!!! The institute of sorcery is the perfect setting for some delicious rivals to lovers settings!

You are a very far off descendant of Shinnok, and for generations the magic in your bloodline had completely vanished. But unexpectedly, this magic resurfaces full force in you. Similar to the power that very first demigod would have had.

Empress Sindel (THINK OF HER AS MORALLY GREY I promise I'm not trying to make her seem evil ;-;) sees your potential to be a skilled outworld warrior, and sends for you to be enrolled in the institute of sorcery.

Thing is, although you have a good heart and good intentions, from a young age, you had never been able to do regular magic. With how powerful your magic is, it baffled those around you. Very few knew the truth that even you didn't know. And that truth was that you simply couldn't perform those magics. The magic in your bloodline was dark, and repelled by any elemental or healing magics.

Despite this downfall, you had a knack for raising the dead in particular. Curses, hexes, and dark magics came easy. You were so innately good at it. Sindel didn't want to loose someone with so much potential, so you became the Institution's pet project.

You were unenrolled in regular classes. Instead, you studied privately with professors. You learned forbidden magics, magics that only you had been able to harness completely without any drawbacks or side effects.

This was common knowledge for professors and students alike. Most avoided you, leading to eating alone for quite a few meals, but some resented you. It simply wasn't fair that you and only you were given the right to learn magic that had been forbidden for anyone else to learn.

One such person was Rain. Rain hated that fact and hated you for it. He would go out of his way to make problems for you. Trip you in the hallways, snicker at your fruitless attempts at elemental magic. Even some of the few plant matter components you needed to collect for a practical exam would come up dead and downed in the gardens. The two of you spent your academic days bickering, even into adulthood.

Even so, Rain wasn't particularly liked by other students in the institute either, due to his prowess with water magic and the jealousy of others. The two of you were both loners for similar reasons. He started to sit next to you during mealtimes to mess with you over petty things, but a few times turns into many. You two started to eat together almost always, go into the gardens together to pick spell components, you would even study together into the early hours of the morning, tired eyes flicking from page to page before simply giving in and falling asleep, then scaring the other awake and boast about it.

As you grew, the bickering remained, but the malice and hatred behind it did not. Sure, you may have been bickering whnever you spent time together, but surely a bit of fondness had formed between the two of you.

One day, you and Rain had a particularly rough fight. More so than usual. Wounding words were said, and Rain said something that struck you deep to your core.

You couldn't heal. You couldn't control water, or fire, or earth or nature. What kind of magic user were you when you couldn't even do the basics of magic as a whole? You were supposedly "powerful" but you hadn't even tried to explore the world of magic beyond your dark and shadowy bubble.

The words had hurt. And it was days before Rain would see you again. You spent your time tucked away in a secluded corner of the library, trying again and again to use these magics you had failed at as a child, and even now you were failing.

Then, you find something in the garden that breaks your heart. What you would do next would break it even more.

---

It's late when Rain finds you, slumped over your desk in tears. He's taken aback. He came to see where you were when you didn't show up at dinner, curious as to where the Golden Child of the academy had gone during mealtime. He didn't expect to find you here like this. Your desk in the library is littered with papers. A single candle lights the area, and a small sparrow lays dead before you.

Rain opens his mouth to speak, but you sit up, wipe your eyes, and after a moment of silence, start to speak without ever looking up at him

"I killed it." The words come out as a whisper. Rain furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"What?" He moves to stand behind your chair. You still can't bear to look at him.

"I killed it." You say, louder this time.

"What do you mean?" He asks, voice low. It takes a moment before you find the strength to speak.

"I found it outside this morning. A cat had gotten it. I…I thought I could try to heal it." Your sentence is interrupted by a sharp sob. "But I couldn't."

" I did everything by the book. Focused my magic into my fingertips, pushed that magic into the sparrow- but I couldn't heal it. I drained it. I took it's life, Rain. " You gesture at the mess before you with a shaky fist.

"I can create potent mana potions. I can make curses that are so concrete and so indestructible even experienced high mages struggle to break them. Fuck! I could raise armies of the dead with a flick of my wrist if I wanted to! So… so why…" You trail off, swallowing thickly as you do your best to blink away the tears.

"I just don't understand. I don’t…" There's a moment of silence, and you just can't seem to speak. It hurts. It hurts to think of how you failed the sparrow. You let out a another choked sob.

"... I can't believe I killed it…"

Rain is silent. If it was anyone else, anyone else, he would be scoffing. But you're just so… broken. Broken over this little bird that you couldn't save. All he can feel is pity. All his life, he has strived for more. More magic. More skills. More power. He has done all he can to learn the most powerful dark magics that the academy knows of… and here you are, blood surging with those very same potent and powerful magics that everyone else has been banned from learning. And you are broken over one of the most simple spells to learn. He had mastered this simple magic before he had even been accepted into the institute.

Part of him is prideful. The other part is ashamed.

He reaches over you to pick up the sparrow. You look at him with tired, swollen eyes.

"You don't want to resurrect it?" He asks. You shake your head. Rain holds out his other hand to you. And you take it.

He doesn't tell you where you are going, but you follow him anyway, too tired to interject. He leads you into the garden, stops among the plants frequently harvested for casting, and kneels. He digs a small hole, and buries the sparrow. You feel numb as you watch him.

He stands by your side again.

"Everything has a place in this world." He says. "Earth, Water. Light. Life. Death.The same goes for magic. " With a surge of his own magic, the ground becomes wet, and then sprouts begin to grow.

"Death magic and magics as such may be taboo to most, but it has a place. Just as water does." He moves to face you now. You keep your eyes on the grave of the sparrow.

"Just because the magic that runs in your veins doesn't give life, or heal those in need, does not make it any less useful. It does not make it any less powerful. Despite your faults-" You roll your eyes at him. He's relieved a little to see a ghost of a smile on your face. "- You are... still a worthy rival to me."

"You know, even when you're being nice, It feels like you're secretly being mean." You huff a laugh. He smirks.

"Who said I was being nice?" You scoff at him, and before you know it, you're hugging him. You weren't sure why, you did it on impulse, without even thinking. Even so, you don't let go. Rain is taken aback, holding his arms out without knowing what to do.

After a moment, he relaxes, and his arms gently hold you back. Rain's face was flushed. For someone so smart, you had to be an idiot to hug someone who barely tolerated you. You sigh into the hug, burying your face in his chest.

"Thank you, Rain." You mumble. Rain feels his heart do something strange as you do. The sight of you holding onto him so snugly, like you trusted him, makes him feel weird. He ignores it. He has the sudden impulse to lean down and press a kiss to your temple, and then the train of thought derails into the temptation to lean back, take your face in his arms, and kiss you silly.

What an idiotic thing to do, he thinks. Why would he ever think such a thing?

These thoughts aside, when you lean back, wipe your swollen eyes, and complain about missing dinner, he can't help but follow you back into the institute like a lost puppy.

[ddarker-dreams]

hmmm.... i have a question. not really a question, more like rambling actually.

so we know that n darling doesnt want to get attached with blade, she mostly sees him as her fuckbuddy for a bit which i think is funny, hence she is his long term long distance low commitment gf.

but im actually curious on blade's view on this relationship. does he feel mutual about this? i mean, clearly he doesn't, but im dying to know the specifics.

does he not prod on the topic because he knows n darling would ultimately be his anyway? (based on... whatever elio's script says) or does he just... not care for any specifics and just already considers her his gf without said gf even knowing 😭😭 actually both theories sound more or less similar.

im so excited for ch 5, ive been rereading nexus over and over again lol (and of course... ch 3 and 4 has the most reads for certain reasons im sure you know)

me thinking of a way to respond without accidentally delving into spoiler territory GJKJDF

i will say that the answer to this question is different pre and post chapter 4. i can come back and give the latter after chapter five is posted.

OKAY, so. initial impression (after saving n darling from alister's knife attack in ch1), was... nothing really. a slight pull and nothing else. at that point, he knew the specifics of his job, which he didn't view differently from the hundreds of jobs he'd be assigned before. he doesn't usually bother thinking about the greater picture. he considers himself a weapon who will simply do as he's told until elio fulfills his end of their agreement.

for a while after that, he finds n darling kinda weird. he doesn't get why n darling thanked him and made her synalink offer when it's pretty obvious she doesn't like the stellaron hunters. it wasn't clear to him yet that in the same way he considers himself a weapon, n darling views herself an integral organ to eris. n darling's gratitude wasn't so much that he saved her life — but that he saved eris' 'life.'

he didn't actively try to understand her because he wouldn't care to. the sole reason he picked any of this up is just from the sheer amount of time they spent coexisting. it's inevitable he'd become familiar with her to some extent. there's that, and well... n darling is rather stunning. an assignment where he basically gets to stare at a beautiful woman for days on end isn't something he's complaining about.

what served as a turning point is the nectar guide incident.

(i didn't expect for this to get so long good god but here's blade's mental health going 📉 as his journey to tap n darling begins)

when he comes to, the sight he's greeted with is this high stationed individual weeping for him and desperately tearing her clothes in a attempt to stop his bleeding. he cannot recall a time when anyone has bothered to do so, since it's known no matter how awful an injury he suffers, he'll regenerate eventually. that aforementioned slight pull grows stronger.

regarding blade's reaction to n darling poking around in his psyche uninvited, that wasn't what actually upset him. it was the possibility he'd be less attentive to her safety if he were to go around searching for survivors. for some inexplicable reason, this irked him.

then, at this exchange in ch3:

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?” 

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.” 

You wish you didn’t. 

it finally dawns on blade that he and this diva-who-pretends-she-isn't-a-diva actually share common ground. that they're both stuck in this self-perpetuated cycle of guilt and admonishment for circumstances that weren't entirely their fault. he doesn't know what to do with this information and stuffs it away for safekeeping.

then another turning point goes down:

the dissonance between lear's id and ego/superego culminates to such a degree that n darling goes unresponsive, the psychic backlash is that bad. blade doesn't understand the specifics. all he sees is this woman he's begrudgingly intrigued by collapsing to the ground with blood rushing from her nose, while her noisy friend and quiet friend rush around. eventually, he can roughly piece together what happened from these tidbits: n darling's aversion to physical contact (seen in ch1 when he reaches for her wrist and she freezes up, then once more when she avoids him after the nectar guide incident).

n darling then confirms this: "What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone."

along with well-intentioned nona's exclamation: "i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop"

blade wouldn't have thought to configure lear into things as soon as he did had nona not given this slip of information. he already had suspicions that lear and n darling had some sort of Situation between them, because lear isn't slick and makes googly eyes @ n darling like nobodies business, but this. this is different. he could write lear's googly eyes off as a crush, which is whatever. but n darling caring for lear to such a degree that she's fine with risking her wellbeing because she likes being around him that much? hence:

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative. 

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke. 

at that point, blade is Not Happy to an extent that confuses even him (ch5 will go into why).

then he happens to be brooding in the distance, as he's prone to do, when he sees n darling looking absolutely defeated (post the convo with caicias and chrysus). he feels this need to do something about it, remembers how often she drinks that ambrosia tea, then makes some for her. he really was going to just leave it and then give her space, but, alas:

"Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages. 

You feel another texture alongside it. 

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages. 

His skin."

this contact quite literally Awakens something in him (👁👁),

"Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood.

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning.

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial.

He should be the one in charge.

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted.

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending."

from this point to where chapter 4 ends, blade's brain is in some sort of caveman mode. he wakes up. thinks about fucking n darling. fucks n darling. waits around impatiently until he can fuck n darling once again. fucks n darling again. goes to (half) sleep. rinse and repeat.

not only is his mara manageable when he's around n darling, but he gets this thrill too? it's a high unlike anything he's experienced in the miserable centuries he's been cursed with immortality. he isn't really worried about the specifics of their relationship, so long as he can keep railing her on every surface around. n darling's body, how she carries herself with such confidence, the way she pokes and prods at him; he's obsessed. addicted. nothing short of feral.

every stage on his hierarchy of needs has been replaced with n darling.

[rookfeatherrambles]

hey so for the angle that cries ink ive been wondering how jon like got under the institute in the first place and how similar he is to the jon the know, the character from TMA. like before he was trapped was he our precious little guy who read statements and then immediately disagreed with him or is he more like an OC with a completely different backstory. i don’t know a whole lot about fics in general or how much youre willing to share about this one in particular but i would love to know some things about jons backstory if you could share? idk a whole lot about much of anything rn or if youve shared anything yet that I just haven’t seen so idk this is your sign to tell me as much as you want whenever you want to ig

long story short: would love to know some about jons backstory :)

considering I haven't written anything but chapter 1 so far... and I did yell about this on my blog before, I don't consider this a spoiler. Jon was put under the Institute by Jonah Magnus! You could say that the Institute was built because of Jon, but that's not quite true. However, the place Jon resides and has for like idk 150 years of his 200 that he's spent on this earth was made to be a home for BOTH of them. That, obviously didn't happen, and now its Jon's prison. As for if Jon is the same... yes and no. Yes, he was canon all the way up until the finale, spoilers for mag 198 and 199 and 200, but he went kinda crazy, if killing Jonah, becoming the pupil and then going through with his plan to burn out the fears is crazy. I think its real sensible! (that's a joke). Anyway, mag 200 didn't go according to plan. the panopticon didn't blow, and Jon set about his villian era. I have no idea how I'm gonna write it but he basically waged war, being marked by all fears, he could puppet them (thanks web) to a degree, and he pitted them against eachother to the death. The world burned. He BECAME the Extinction, do you get me? And he kept Martin by his side until, well. He was caught in the crossfire. The End doesn't barter its dead, even to God. Martin was gone, and Jon quickly destabilized and was deposed. I'm pretty sure he was draged kicking and screaming (and cursing) to hilltop house and the rift and thrown into it. Thus, the web's plan was ultimately fulfilled, it just took like a century. In the void between millions of realities, the fears (mainly the web) reshaped Jon. As punishment for him trying to escape the strings he'd been dancing on, he was remade in a mockery of the savior he had tried to be. Markless, beautiful and ethereal, connected to every fear, a harbinger, an angel. They took his voice too, his only weapon. Jon was brought to an almost identical world, but 200 years into the past, and given directly into the grasp of one Jonah Magnus who was just dipping toes into the supernatural. Jon's punishment, is to be immortal, and to be the reason every single person he cares about or so much as knows, falls to the fears. he is the reason they are here, after all. So yeah. That's Jon. He's been alive for 200 years, and all he wants to do is see Martin again, and apologize. Only, his Martin is dead, and this world's Martin has no knowledge of Jon's feelings or even his existence.

[starker-raving-mads]

For you: Part IV

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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"It's easier if we come up to see you," Bucky had said, Steve murmuring his agreement in the background of the phone call. "We're gonna be in the city anyway and besides, ain't it better to do it where you can do all the scans and stuff?"

The plan was sound, and made sense to Peter at the time. But here and now, with Captain America and the Winter Soldier making their way up to the penthouse labs in Stark Tower, the vigilante was questioning his judgement.

"Fri do we - "

"Yes, Mother, we have the schematics loaded and ready for display in both holographic and flat form."

"Okay, okay but do you think - "

"You've practiced attaching and detaching the device enough times that your fluidity of movement has increased by 313%."

"Sure but - "

"Peter," the AI cut off the teen's frantic questions. He fell silent, chagrined; she rarely called him Peter anymore and when she did, he knew it was because he was being too much.

He let out a deep sigh.

"Okay, I get it," he gave up. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be I guess."

"You are," the super intelligence agreed. "I'm glad you've come to see reason. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers will arrive on the elevator in ETA 10 seconds."

They were coming by so that Peter, 18-year-old, clumsy Peter, could attach Bucky's new prosthetic based on Mr. Stark's assemblage instructions. He was, for lack of any better words, fucking terrified.

It wasn't so much that Bucky and Cap scared him, at least not any more. He had a healthy respect for the pair after everything they'd gone through, but the few meet ups he'd had with the group as a whole had made him appreciate the less-obvious qualities that each hero had in turn. Sure, Bucky was scary as heck in a fight, but outside of that he was quiet and kind of contemplative. Steve was the driving force for optimism and doing the right thing - and also an absolute mother hen.

Instead it was the fact that he was basically going to be attaching this thing, that he did not create, that cost Mr. Stark probably at least a million dollars? Onto the body of a super soldier while his - best friend or boyfriend or whatever they were, Peter really never got clarification - watched over his shoulder. He was having performance anxiety, big time.

He concentrated on those better qualities of theirs as the elevator door opened.

An hour later, he wasn't sure why he'd be so scared in the first place.

"You're really a natural at all this, huh?" Steve asked, peering over all the holodisplays Friday had helpfully pulled up for Peter as he went along attaching circuitry, wires, and faceplates. The blonde's eyes were wide trying to take everything in while Peter, finally confident in the face of the older man's perplexity, worked slowly but surely on finishing the attachment of Bucky's new arm.

"Sort of," the teen chuckled. "Mostly it's just that I spent so long growing up without any of the bells and whistles - oops, sorry," he grimaced after a slight spark made Bucky flinch. They were bound to happen, given that the battery that was Bucky's natural electrical system couldn't be turned off like one could a computer they were changing the parts in. " - that now that I've got all this stuff to make it so much easier, it's more understandable than it probably would've been otherwise, if that makes sense."

Bucky hummed in agreement. "Kinda like training with weights then goin' into the fight without 'em on." His Brooklyn accent was stronger than it had been before. Maybe it meant more of his old self was returning. The thought made Peter happy for the other man.

"Yeah, yeah exactly!"

"You know, I always thought Tony was one of a kind with how smart he was," Steve admitted after a few more moments of silence scattered with the light clinks of metals and wires being maneuvered in Peter's sure hands. "And he is, I'm not saying he wasn't, but you really do him justice here, Pete."

Peter ducked his head, flush blossoming in a great pink wave across his cheeks and the back of his neck.

"Nah," he disagreed quietly. "I'm nothing special. I bet there's thousands more people who would be able to put all this to better use." He sighed.

"No they wouldn't," Bucky said in a sure, firm tone. Peter looked up at him, his curls - getting too long, needing a cut - falling slightly across his eyes. "I've seen a lot of people, kid, and trust me, you are one in a billion."

Peter's breath caught and he stared at the assassin in shocked silence. He was brought out of it when Steve laid one of his large hands over Peter's slight shoulder, engulfing him in warmth.

"Buck's right, son," Steve agreed. A warmth Peter hadn't known since before Uncle Ben passed away washed over him. Something that felt like acceptance and family all rolled into one.

"Thanks," he replied quietly to the both of them. Steve kept his hand there for just long enough that Peter could pull on that warm memory with ease later.

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"Shoulda seen him, Pete," Bucky said, tossing a foam football to Steve, who tossed it to the teen, who tossed it back to Bucky in a smooth triangle stretching across the lab. "Stevie used to be a beanpole - short and tiny and yet had the bite of a gator wrapped up in all that acne and asthma," he chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, live it up, wise guy," Steve replied, smile taking any bite that might've been there right back out of it.

They were, ostensibly, calibrating Bucky's arm. Peter had finished with the installation a while ago and had gone back a few times to make some minor adjustments. They'd been tossing the toy ball that was he and Mr. Stark's 'thinking ball' between themselves to test the arm's dexterity, reliability, and maneuverability, but the spider was pretty sure it was as good as it could be at this point without a real endurance test. Still though. He was having fun, relaxing with his new friends. He could unwind with them in a way that Ned and MJ just couldn't do for him. He tried not to feel bad for spending so much time away from his friends but his life was just so - different, now. He'd make it up to them.

"I used to have asthma too," the teen admitted, tossing the ball to Bucky again. "And glasses, and all sorts of problems." He shrugged, catching the ball from Steve. "The bite kind of cleared all of that up, though I still have problems with the cold."

"Oh yeah?" Bucky asked, thoughtful.

"Never really knew why, just seemed to stick around, honestly feels a little worse but I don't know if it's just like that in comparison to like having none of the other stuff to distract my senses from it."

"You know," Bucky drawled, pausing as he caught the ball, holding it cocked against his hip. "Spiders can't thermoregulate. It's why you never see 'em in winter." Peter and Steve both blinked at him. In an act of absolute insanity, the winter soldier blushed. "What?" he asked, defensive, throwing the ball more firmly than necessary at Steve. "I read!"

"I never really thought of that," the younger man admitted. "That might actually bear looking into. Hey, Fri?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Can you make a note to research that?"

"Of course, Mother. Also, this is your reminder that it is 2pm and you have not yet eaten."

"Thanks, Friday," he grinned. He caught the older men looking at him. "What?"

"Mother?" Steve and Bucky asked in unison, smirks firmly in place. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Peter had lunch delivered from his and May's favorite Thai place, leaving a hefty tip. It was still weird to him to just…having access to money now. He hadn't really used it except to pay for things like food and help May with bills and pay for his enrollment to Columbia. He was relieved, honestly, that the sudden influx of cash and power hadn't gone to his head. He liked to think it wouldn't but he was as human as everyone else and he'd seen good people do terrible things for cash.

Lunch with Steve and Bucky was good. It felt just like a continuation of the last few hours they'd spent together, like hanging out and just being friends. Refreshing, after everything. He'd answered embarrassing questions - like why Friday called him Mother (and then teased Steve for not getting the reference, even though Bucky somehow did), establishing a promise to have some kind of movie night so that he and Bucky could show Steve the legendary Alien films, and of course answering even more awkward questions.

"So no girlfriend?"

"Uh, nope, no not right now."

"Boyfriend?"

"Uh - "

"It's okay if you have a boyfriend, you know - "

"Or even a nonbinary partner! I hear that's a thing now, too, though I guess it always was and we just never really talked about it - "

"What Steve means, Pete, is no judgement from us. What's judgin' ever got anybody anyway?"

"Thanks guys, but no, no partners of any kind right now."

"Hmmm."

"What's that look for?"

"Still hung up on Tony, huh?"

"W-what??"

"It's okay, I get it, Stark was a handsome man. Don't look at me like that, Stevie, I know you ain't blind."

So yeah, awkward. Though, kind of sweet too? It was really kind of Bucky and Steve to just get it when it came to him and his feelings for Mr. Stark, as unrequited as they would always be. Felt a little easier to breath after that conversation, honestly. Ned and MJ had teased him constantly about his crush on Mr. Stark. May had too, for a while, though she'd stopped after - well after everything.

Apparently the billionaire and his aunt had done a lot to support each other while he was Blipped. Aunt May talked about Tony a lot differently, more supportive and less teasingly, than she ever had before.

He sighed, exhausted, spinning on his stool in the lab. Steve and Bucky had left a little while ago and he was still lost in his thoughts. He needed to stop thinking about this. About Tony Stark. He looked around.

"Guess it's kind of hard to not think about him when literally everything looks like he's about to walk right back in," he said to himself. He didn't want to get rid of any of it, but - "Fri, baby?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Put on the Stark-Parker Playlist #3. I've got some cleaning to do."

He spent the next two hours decluttering everything he could. Pens and pencils back where they belonged, rinsing out the coffee machine, papers getting filed away, tools and loose screws and wires being organized. In the end, the lab looked cleaner than he could ever remember it being. And it still felt like Tony, for sure, but it also felt like a breath of fresh air.

He slid his stool across the room to the last filing cabinet. He knew this was where all the experimental files got stored, just random notes on thought experiments and the like. All the real experiments - the weapons and suit projects - were all stored in Friday's cloud, but bits and pieces of physical hardware were inevitably tossed here.

As he pulled things out and arranged them on the floor to get some sense of what exactly was in the cabinet, he slowly realized that the things he was pulling out weren't exactly random. His piles were forming a pattern on the floor, piles of notes about holographic improvements next to auditory transcription, and weirdly a pile about how birds can mimic sound with their vocal patterns.

He stepped back from the landscape he created, scratching his head.

"Friday?" he called, tilting his head back and forth as though he were looking at a picture that was just slightly out of order.

"Yes, Mother?"

"What the hell am I looking at?" he asked. He was slightly frustrated. He could tell all this went together but - but not how. Like a puzzle missing one too many pieces.

"On the floor in front of you are assorted piles of - "

"No, no," he shook his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "Sorry, I should've been more clear."

"It is okay, Mother. I am still learning. What is it you would like to know?"

"It looks like all of this - stuff - the notes and the research and things - like they all go together. Was Mr. Stark working on something?"

Friday was quiet for a moment before saying, "Yes, though I am not sure he ever meant for the research to be conclusive or be shared." Her voice was hesitant.

"So, he stopped researching?" Peter asked, mind turning over what the man could've possibly been working on.

"Yes."

"Was it because he hit a dead end?" The thought of being able to finish something that Mr. Stark couldn't was invigorating.

"Yes and no." Peter narrowed his eyes, looking up - even though, technically, Friday was everywhere in this lab.

"Fri, what are you holding back from me? It's not - " he paused, " - it's not dangerous is it?"

"Not in the manner a weapon might be." He groaned.

"Friday," he said in the same tone Aunt May used on him when he was edging around a subject.

He figured he might've gotten it down right when she answered, "Boss had been investigating the best and most accurate methods of recreating natural intelligence."

"So, a new form of AI," Peter clarified.

"No," she replied, more softly. "I believe, based on the results of some of his testing, that he was attempting to recreate a previously known organic intelligence." A pause, and Peter's spidey-sense tingled, ever so slightly. "He was attempting to recreate your intelligence, Mother."

It felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him, his stomach doing a wicked somersault. He had the vaguest sense of vertigo, like he'd missed grabbing a web when slinging high between two buildings in downtown.

"Why - " his voice clicked, throat dry from shock. "Why would he - ?"

"If I were to posit," Friday said in that same slightly gentle tone. "I have watched you and Boss both, together and on an individual basis. From some of the similar actions you both have taken, I can extrapolate that, in the best way I am currently able to describe," she paused, like she did not like the uncertain nature of the information she was about to unveil, "he was attempting to create such an intelligence because he missed you, Mother."

[ashoss]

apollo's blessing to babs is that he doesn't smite her for using the Oracle name without asking for his permission first LMAO (i say this as a joke, but i could genuinely imagine apollo saying this to babs when he visits her to test her character. babs resists the urge to roll her eyes or try to argue that she didn't HAVE a way to ask him/didn't know she had to ask in the first place. she's been holding her verbal own against this god; she isn't gonna screw it up now)

but jokes aside, i could see his blessing being related to the idea of that he's a god of knowledge (in the reasoning/self-knowledge kind of way) and supporting the idea that Oracle!babs is a tech expert/information broker. like an "anywhere the light touches, you'll be able to see" sort of thing. any time she's hacking into something and gets hit with a mental block, the connection comes a little faster and the block goes away. if there's a place she's trying to get a visual on, she'll be able to find a camera/microphone/whatever even if it seems near-impossible as long as it's a place under the sun (basically as long as it's not underground or hidden via magic/gods). she won't be prophetic, she still has to do the work to look and make the connections herself, but apollo greases the wheels and makes it go a little faster. + maybe he throws in some healing as a bonus because she impressed him, like she heals slightly faster than the average person

god yeah ive been thinking about the apollo/babs dynamic. i think it would be super interesting to go more into

i do like the blessing being knowledge related! i do think he wouldnt give her something insanely op like being actually prophetic or anything but him "greases the wheels" is really good! everything ur saying is honestly really good oml

sort of on a different tangent-

im unsure atm where this would take place in the pjo canon? if i want them to take place in the same universe - like if it is a possibility for the current demigods like percy, annabeth, etc... to run into any of the batkids? i think i might have it a bit connected, but then that brings into question where the Trials of Apollo fit into the DC timeline.

because pre-ToA!apollo and post-ToA!apollo are different. pre-apollo is more selfish, godly- despite being one of the more human-like gods he still sees humans as like,, toys. post-apollo has more of an understanding of them, understanding their plights and feelings because of that time spent as lester and with the CHB kids.

i feel like pre-ToA apollo might not have given babs that blessing the same way post-ToA apollo might have, but if i have ToA take place before babs becomes oracle, meaning before the killing joke and death in the family that kind of messes up some of the vibes i wanted to go for. percy is 17 in ToA, and (unsure if i DO want percy and the gang to be involved with the batkids in this au) i feel like he would be the same age or around the same age as jason, to me it makes a lot of sense to me- but if ToA happened before apollo offers babs the blessing that would make percy AT LEAST 2/3 years older than jason. so im not 100% sure on things. although percy as older than jason would be interesting.

or pre-toa apollo did it because it thought of babs as something cool he could play around with- use his blessing on her like a experiment or something idk D:::

[mango-fizz]

splatoon had always kind of been a part of my life, since it came with my wiiu a long long time ago, and even when i was in middle school i didnt play splatoon 2 at all, but i always made sure to keep up with the lore, and i remember that acid hues and bomb rush blush were never Not a part of my lunch time playlist. and 2 years ago i left for college, living away from home for the first time, and it was a pretty miserable experience, for several reasons, but the thing is i can pinpoint the exact moment things started looking up, when i started to feel better, more cheerful, more motivated. It was when i fell in love with splatoon again, listening to the old songs that i had loved when i was a kid. genuinely i dont think i wouldve gotten through that semester without it. after i finally decided to come back home that winter, i had the best holiday ive ever had. despite having to start over at a new university, being with my family again and especially my cousins, who are like siblings to me, made me feel happier than i had been in those 5 months i spent by myself. and with splatoon, i felt like we really bonded, somehow become even closer than we already were, and i made memories that i'll cherish for a really long time. i remember singing anarchy rainbow as loud as we could after ringing in the new year, dancing and laughing, and i had felt so alive. so basically, what i mean to say is, splatoon, from 2015 to 2024, is really really important to me, in a lot of different ways, for a lot of different reasons that i cant fit in this post but, i think splatoon definitely has something special, i said it before but i genuinely dont think we'll get anything like it again, just, thank you thank you thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for the memories

[void-chara]

My gift for the @technoblade-gift-exchange !! i was assigned to @simplepotatofarmer who asked for dsmp rivals duo. i hope you like it Loyal!

rambling about headcanons, designs, and my process and stuff under the readmore, because i wanna talk about it but dont want the post to be super long !!

i had originally planned to not have a background and then at the last second i decided to speedrun drawing one in a few hours so um. quality difference but its fine. also unrelated but im pretty sure everything about how i draw animals and anthros makes it very obvious i used to be in the warrior cats fandom lol. anyway onto the designs!!

the gold on techno is scars from the totem at the execution, which i think is a pretty common thing for techno designs. he isnt supposed to be a piglin, but rather similar species of anthropomorphic pig. also his mane and tail fluff are naturally brown but he dyes them pink ^_^ so cool !! um. i maaayyy have forgotten the crown until i was way too far into the piece to add it. haha. oops. pretend its missing because. uuh. hes in a casual outfit. "but he still has the cape" yeah its comfy. "but dream has a mask thats not casual" dream is dream he does Not relax fully ever. see entirely intentional i would never make a mistake.

dream is an original shapeshifter species i came up with because i couldnt decide what i wanted him to be. i havent decided on a name for the species yet but i plan to make almost every solid-color or nearly solid color mcyt into this species. theyre mostly involuntary/unconscious shapeshifters. so like they change slowly over weeks or months to adapt to their surroundings, with little conscious control. basically i wanted him to be like five different things so i shoved them together lol, rabbit ears but in a pattern that looks like an axolotl, a cool tail, TOE BEANS tho you cant see them. this was actually the first time ive ever had a dream design im happy with so thats really nice.

i um. i made full use of my time lol, i spent a bit over a week on the lineart, another week on the coloring, and maybe a week and a half on rendering. unless i suddenly became shit at math(which is possible) that adds up to roughly the amount of time i had to work on it. im really proud of myself actually since i usually take a while to do art, and i wasnt sure i would be able to make something id be happy with in this amount of time. but i did! woah!! this was my first time participating in a fandom gift exchange and it was so fun, and also helped motivate me to draw more instead of getting distracted like i usually do (classic adhd moment) lol. anyway super cool!!

Loyal if u decided to read all this for some reason then again i really hope u like it!! u are so cool and i really love ur rivals duo opinions and creations so i hope u like this! i know theres been shit happening lately, i hope ur doing ok!!

[dearweirdme]

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/742957241461800960/hi-ive-just-become-an-army-last-year-and-a-tkkr?source=share

JK is a couple of years below the mandatory enlistment date so him enlisting via the companion system was the only way to ensure that he actually got in the year he wanted to. Otherwise, any recruit of mandatory enlistment age would have been prioritised before him and with knowledge that so many members of BTS were due to enlist, that recruitment year would have been stacked and JK's enlistment would have been held until there was space for him or until he reached the mandatory requirement age. (Application always goes up when a popular idol is enlisting in the same year)

By enlisting with a member who is of that age, it effectively means he puts himself under their enlistment bracket and requirement rather than his own. It's probably the best hope of legitimately jumping the queue and securing a place that he had.

As for why not Tae, it's simple. Taehyung wanted to join SDT and the companion system is not in play there. This isn't something Tae would have decided overnight. He would have had to have spent a while preparing, he probably had some long talks with Hyungsik etc. Like nobody walks into that kind of recruitment process without some solid preparation beforehand.

Maybe JK also applied for SF (since he did mention wanting to. I think the unit he wanted to join was the same one Lee Seungi completed. The name escapes me) and either didn't get in or was told that he would have to wait a few years since places for those units are much smaller--and that could be why he seemed kinda disheartened and laid back about his MS when everyone was expecting him to be the most upbeat and gung ho about it.

I do feel like there's an element of going through the motions when it came to how JK approached MS but for Tae, he has spoken about how much of a positive influence his father found doing MS and Tae has a good network of male friends who have already competed their service to an accomplished level so he seems to have viewed MS as a self growth opportunity rather than just a task that needs to be ticked off (and either approach is fine)

Hi anon!

I definitely think you are right. I think members enlisting the way they did was very calculated. We basically only have to go six months with all members gone. I think BTS is priority to all of them (and Bh ofcourse) so Jk enlisting before he has to makes sense to me. The army isn’t something he want to make a career of, and he has to enlist anyway.. so doing it now only makes sense.

I think there was never a real chance of Tae and Jk enlisting the way Jk and Jm have… for obvious reasons. But Tae also really seems to make this a good experience for himself. I was under the impression that Jk’s tattoos also restricted his options a bit?

[altschmerzes]

hey saw ur comment on the man city fix it fic ab Jamie’s fathers death & was wondering what u disliked ab the Jamie’s mum and Simon part? not judging or anything im just curious!!

yeaaaaaaah so! from what ive seen at least this is a not particularly common opinion which is fine, im aware i have some particular biases and priorities and whatnot in this area, but it just… i didnt like that stuff at all. it really put me off actually, for a couple reasons. i'll get into why, but i know a lot of people like Really Loved that stuff and especially his mom - and it also gets a little down on season 3 and the writing team as a whole at some points lmao - so i'll put it under a cut.

(this got. very long. im so sorry.)

it basically boils down to a couple things: 1. what they presented us with doesn't hold water if poked literally at all in any direction, 2. it made me feel a little uncomfortable given the way everything else in jamie's arc played out, and 3. if they were going to do something like this, they needed WAY more time and narrative space to execute it well in general and specifically for ME to execute it in a way that didn't leave a bad taste in my mouth.

there are a few things that i generally dread when you have a character who's presented to have some serious trauma related to their family and specifically to an abusive parent, and one of those things is the sudden inclusion of another parent in there who is just. everything is totally fine and normal and happy and not at all complicated with them! it always makes me feel weird and bad when that happens, especially when there is no explanation provided for how that like. fits in with the abuse we know they experienced as well. that is a matter of personal preference, and i can own that. i just don't like it, and it makes me feel weird and uneasy. and that's part of it here, but what's also part of it is that i think that - my personal feelings about this type of character choice overall aside - they did not execute it well given the story they'd already presented us with, the way they used these new characters, and how much time they spent on it.

the image they presented of jamie's mom and stepdad is like… very simple and positive and shiny and uncomplicated. it's just good. they just love and support him and are a positive and affectionate active presence. and that might seem like an unfair characterization of it because we saw very little and we know very little of what their relationship is actually like - we don't know what might be complicated, what might be messy, how often they talk, etc - but that’s honestly part of my issue here. we were given a sliver of a glimpse into jamie's mom and his relationship with her and his stepdad when jamie as a character is someone who is hugely defined by his family history and the baggage and trauma and danger associated with it. if they were going to do this, they needed to spend way more time on it. they needed to introduce her earlier, do something to make it jive with what we were already presented about her: some vague mentions, half of which were in past tense, and all of which seemed to imply very strongly that if she were alive (which there was a lot of confusion about!) then they were likely to some degree estranged, because it seemed pretty clear with the 'i don't know if she would be [proud] lately' bit that he literally did not know what she thought of him in recent years. and like. it seems like i'm nitpicking, but again, this is a character who has been so strongly based in and defined by his family and the like. past and current danger and trauma associated with it.

especially given how little time or attention was given to everything else with his family, it was just way too late in the game to introduce these characters and be able to do them and their relationship with the existing characters justice. like you’ve already got a complicated story you’re skipping most of and not giving its due do you really need to add more really complicated stuff in there. and then just go actually it's not complicated don't worry about it :) like. that just doesn't work for me.

so that's where i'm at like, not only do i inherently dislike this sort of element introduced with this type of character, which is a me problem, i also think the story they presented in that episode with his mom and simon just flat out didn't make sense and they did not have the time to make it make sense even if they'd tried, which they didn't. like... if things are just fine and normal and easy with them and she’s just great and loving and supportive it’s like i. So What Happened, Then.

it makes his entire arc make less sense. if she's just Been Here what happened? why did he need to be reminded that not EVERYONE in his life was out to get him? why did keeley have to tell him to stop battling everyone that was just trying to help him? why is he so isolated and adrift at the beginning of season two? why did she never attend a single match? why did we never see him text or call or mention her in a contemporary way? like there COULD be answers to those things that make sense with what they presented, but we didn't get any of those answers and those are big questions to me given they comprise like... all of jamie's character arc lmao. at the end of the day, throwing in the stuff with his mom feels... really disrespectful to the story they wrote with him (that they already fell down on the job with) to just throw that in there with no consideration or attention paid to how it fits with or impacts anything already established.

i truly don't think that every question needs to be answered in a story. i am not saying that. i'm not saying someone needed to turn to the audience and go here's the logistic details of exactly how and when everything that happened with jamie and his parents happened. but there are some serious issues with like, telling a coherent story, and utilizing the extremely limited narrative space that a secondary character in an ensemble show can be afforded. (especially when in season three it really felt like they were already racing through characters and plot lines and backstory stuff like the goal was to just drop info just to Have It and then never address or do anything with it at all.) why did they do that, is what i keep going back to. you're telling a story with very limited space and a lot of characters. so what was the reason for that stuff to be there? so that someone could lay the 'yea he was a dick but he made you into this person! you're so strong now!' foundation for ted telling jamie to forgive his dad and 'disappointed teacher face' him into saying 'thank you' after the 'fuck you'? or was it just fanservice that you didn't think needed to fit with the rest of the story narratively or thematically? because that's where i keep going back to as well.

it just... and this is the bitchier, more spiteful part of me saying this, the part that was PROFOUNDLY let down by the way they handled the aspects of jamie's arc to do with his family and with the abuse he suffered, but it feels like an attempt to use happy sparkly fanservice-y funny and feel-good scenes with his adorable mom and sweet stepdad to like. pull way back on the rest of his whole situation with his family like see no he’s fine! isn’t it great how funny and adorable his mom is! isnt his stepdad fun! everything is fine actually things with his dad are just ~complicated because james drinks :) (and then all he needs to do about that is grow up and forgive, he's just a melodramatic mama's boy, the pain is his fault and he'll be fine once he Forgives, and rehab fixes everything). i don't have some kind of conspiracy that this was their actual reasoning but that's how it hit to me - whoops we don't actually want to deal with the abuse so we're gonna sweep it way under the couch and look! see! here's his cute fun mom isn't she great! (He's Fine Don't Worry About It, His Family Is Actually Sooooo Supportive!)

but yeah that's the bitchy and unfair part of me so. that's not really my main point.

(i also gotta say everything about that sequence with jamie and company at his mom's house feels like... tissue paper thin and very fucking weird from both a narrative and a logistical point of view. the stuff with the actual people of his mom and stepdad aside, what the hell was up with his room? what was that poster of keeley doing there. when did that go up. how old was he when he put it there. yeah she's older than him by a fair bit but not THAT much older. and if he was putting it up as like, a teenager or something, why is the rest of that room decorated for a seven year old. parents preserve their kids rooms like shrines this is true but the idea of a like, jamie in his mid/late teens or whatever putting that poster of keeley up but also sleeping in a little kid's bed still is like... did you think about this at all. it really does not seem like you did. At All. it just goes to my spiteful fringe theory about that whole sequence which is “oh this is pure 100% gratuitous backpatting fanservice that nobody actually thought about in any real way whatsoever”)

sorry this got so long but i have a lot of thoughts on this and they get kicked up every time i see posts gushing about how much people loved georgie or those scenes or whatnot like everyone is of course entitled to their opinion and i don't hold it against anyone! but that stuff hit way different for me and just added insult to injury in an episode that generally seemed to handle jamie and his situation in a way i found cringeworthy and weird at best and offensive and victim blaming at worst.

[bruce-wayne-simp]

Please let's hear more about your Tangled AU?

Tjjjj ok so i dont think ive talked about ut on here yet but ok so

The premise of Dreamling Tangled AU is: in the comics Dream is canonically Night (their mother)'s favorite child. So after he is born, she basically... keeps him. He is still the king of Dreams and all but his realm is inside of hers and he is not allowed to interact with Dreamers or humans or really anyone else, keeping him isolated and dependent on her. He is obsessed with humans and the Waking and desperately wants to go. One day, he meets Hob, an immortal lucid dreamer and friend of Death who somehow inadvertently manages to find the Dreamlord himself. Dream takes a chance and leaves his realm to go to the Waking where he has adventures, meets his siblings, and finally manages to gain autonomy for himself (as well as a boyfriend)

Ohh which snippet to choose...

Dream stutters, "I-I think he likes me." Night lets out a musical laugh. "Likes you? Dream, oh darling, you've spent too much time here. Look at you, you're delusional." Dreams brow furrows, mouth opening to retort, but his mother cuts him off before he could. She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. "He's using you, darling. For your power. Maybe even your body, as well.” She shudders in revulsion. “Humans are revolting, and animalistic like that. The only reason he is keeping you around-" Night steps forward, reaching up to toy with the bright red gem around his neck, "is for this. He's a thief, darling. Goodness knows how long it will take for him to get tired of you and steal it for himself. I am telling you, sweet boy. Humans are more trouble than they are worth." "You are wrong." "Stop this foolishness, love. Come back to our realm. Where you will be safe. We can put this idiotic fling behind us, write it off as a whim." "No." Dream hears the word ring in the air, and after a moment realizes it had come from himself.

[madisonrooney]

no one probably cares but. i wanna stress how big of a deal it is for me that im rewatching chunks of hannah montana, even if not the full series and even if out of order. not so much in the sense that it does bring up a lot of trauma (tho there is that...BUT i am pretty deliberately avoiding season 4 for that reason) but in the sense that like.

yknow that meme thats like "im going to create rules for myself that are so unnecessary" bc thats very much me. idk if its an autism thing but i do that so much. so basically when i need background noise i make myself watch whatevers on live tv and if there arent any shows i like on, i put on a dvd. could i just put on a dvd or streaming just if i felt like it or preferred it to whats on tv? sure, but my thing is ive been doing this for so long that if i change it now, that shows i couldve changed it ages ago and have lost so many opportunities to watch whatever i wanted. so to me it makes more sense to keep it this way. its stupid idk.

but leading up to and since d23, i like. physically could not stop myself from watching some hannah montana like i HAD to. i had been revisiting clips and eventually i was just like i am holding back serotonin from myself i just need to give in. and i did and man the RUSH it has given me.

im not entirely sure what my point is in posting this...ive wanted to for a few days but now im forgetting why lmao. tho im p sure its just that when i say "ive been rewatching some hm" its not as common of an occurence as you might think and just shows the deep state of brainrot im at rn, and im fucking loving it!!!!! not only have i spent so long struggling to hyperfixate on anything, but there were def periods over the last 15 years where i felt like i was forcing hm onto myself. not to say i didnt love it all throughout, but sometimes i would push it on myself when i was having an off day or more in the mood for a different hyperfixation. to come back to it so NATURALLY and PURELY and STRONGLY and GENUINELY!!!!! it feels so good!!!! and its just like...idk super heartwarming to me.

and i guess my other point is that i need to remind myself that there are easy things i can do to make myself happy that i prevent myself from doing for literally no reason so i need to work on that but at least this is a step in the right direction. like how i would force myself to catch up on the instagram stories of literally everyone i follow for hours and it would feel like a chore, when i could be doing something fun, especially with my few free hours on a work day. thankfully ive gotten myself out of that habit too but im sure there are some more walls i can knock down.

[accidentalslayer]

I'm sorry to bother, but I was wondering if you would be willing to tell me more about cushings because it sounds a lot like what ive been going through my entire life

So, I'm going to take personal observations of events in my life and apply them to the symptoms I've been experiencing. I'm not an expert on this since the official diagnosis is new and I'm still learning a lot of things about it. But! I'll offer you what I can of the things I do know.

-----

🍁 Before I hit my teenage years, I was 99 lbs and looked completely different. I hadn't developed a slight hump at the back of my neck that my grandparents thought was just bad posture (so they would often yell at me for any "slouching" at the dinner table, in the living room, basically anywhere they could get away with yelling at me). I wasn't puffing up in weight and finding it EXTREMELY HARD to lose weight without starving myself (At one point, I became hard-core bulimic because going from 99 lbs to suddenly being made fun of by the kids in Catholic school destroyed me, I started pulling out my hair) My face had definable cheek bones. I didn't have fat underneath my arms that just...hung. I didn't have extra hair growing on my chin.

I used to look normal.

🎃 My periods started off HARDCORE. Pain everywhere. Blood everywhere. I was laid out for at least the first and second day of a normal period and sometimes longer if it was worse. Nobody thought that was weird as fuck. But looking back on it, I should have been getting medical help for that. Instead, I was being ignored.

👻 Trying to piece apart my mood disorder from the long, intense, sustained period in my childhood that started at my birth is practically an impossible task. For both my therapist and myself. But after I entered my late 20's (around 27 to 29) those mood disorders got much worse. To the point where it's become full-blown psychotic depression that I struggle to keep in check with now. There's so much art and things I want to share but this...awful looming wall called depression is currently keeping me stuck in place and I don't even know how to deal, really. My therapists coping mechanisms only go so far when the mood disorder is an imbalanced hormonal issue.

🦇 My period stopped early and presented itself as signs of perimenopause with no discernable cause before the tumors on my adrenaline glands formed. I had hot flashes, extreme emotional ups and downs that caused people to leave my life, and gained even MORE weight than before. My belly became "pendulous" meaning round, with most of it pooled around my hips and lower stomach. Cushings is pure body horror made flesh in my opinion. Not only are you helpless to prevent the weight gain (unless severe measures are taken) but you're stuck in your body while it happens. I could've spent more effort trying to diet at this point but the majority of my life has been spent in and out of foster homes or homeless on the street. It's only recently, in my 30's, that I've found a permanent place of residence.

🍬 In these stages of Cushings, I have adrenaline rushes. They manifest as spontaneous, unavoidable, quick onset of extreme panic attacks. Paranoia. Anxiety. Dread. Insomnia. And pure rage that overtake me. If I can even relax to sleep, I'll have vivid nightmares. Or I'll go to sleep and feel like I haven't slept at all. But try to pick that apart from the trauma, right? These symptoms share beds with PTSD, C-PTSD, ect. While Cushings has no definable reason for happening, some believe long sustained periods of trauma can cause Cushings to just...activate. Because your adrenaline glands were overproducing so much during those traumatic events that your brain/body just decided to never stop.

This is not to mention all the aches, pains, and muscle stress I feel physically as well. I need to take at least two medications to sleep at night at all because of the pain I experience.

----

In short, Cushings destroys your life. If you think you have a hormonal issue and relate to any of the points I made, I would recommend checking it out with your doctor if you can. I don't...really know what your healthcare system looks like where you live. Right now, I'm fighting with the American Healthcare system to just be fucking respected during my appointments.

The crime of being fat in the American Healthcare system is often death or mistreatment.

I really hope that any of this helps.