#this is not a drag it's just sometimes i see a little wasted potential

[nunap]

Manifesting:

I think that 3racha/skz needs to work on: sexy songs(clearly the fandom demands it and rightfully so after what we heard), rock or old hip hop cause they shine with that live and on record, pre choruses(too generic) and something more fluid/heterogeneous like Han songs can be(slump my beloved). Also I think they should try some sad af mega ballad one day a la "I'll be your man".

[carrymelikeimcute]

Lets talk about Izzy and why being in drag is (potentially) huge for his arc.

The verdict on Izzy in S1 seems to be either 1. he's an angry, repressed queer guy with internalised homophobia or 2. he's an angry guy with homophobia. I would like to present to you - secret option number 3. Neither of the above (but a bit of 1).

I think he's an angry queer guy, who's terrified of the danger that lurks outside of appearing constantly masc and strong, and seeing other people apparently not realise or care how vulnerable they are, drives him absolutely spare. It's more complicated than simply internalising homophobia, it's misogyny and self-loathing and a response to being at sea for his entire life and struggling to survive - and we see what just a few months of that does to Lucius.

This is reflected in his talks with Ed in S1 - Ed's whimsy in the face of the approaching Spanish ship might get them all killed. Ed's public breakdown, if it got out, would destroy the reputation that protects Ed, Izzy and their entire crew. Stede is a pet, he's a weakness, and so he needs to be eliminated. That's how Izzy functions - he has like two bits of exposed skin, one outward emotion and he's lived for a long time like that - it works. It's the kind of strength he understands. He's convinced that him reining Ed in is what's keeping them alive.

BUT in S1 he sees that being open, being yourself, isn't a death sentence - and he HATES it. Because if that's true, look how much time he's wasted.

Ed and Stede's very whimsical lighthouse fuckery WORKS. Stede, in his frilly suits with his rec room and his fucking library, skates past death over and over again like he's scotch guarded from consequences. Ed and Stede make moon-eyes at each other and no one uses that against them - until Izzy does, because it's going to happen sometime (he thinks) so it's better it's him, because at least then Ed will survive.

Lucius is just hooking up with Pete in the galley while Wee John is right there - this is something that's an unspoken part of ship life, a shameful thing, and Izzy's the only one it bothers. Lucius uses flirtation to get out of scraping barnacles under armed guard, and uses it again to shut Izzy down. Lucius isn't ashamed of being flirtatious, seductive and femme - and Izzy loses to that tactic. He can't beat it with yelling and anger. It's a sort of strength he doesn't expect or understand - the strength that comes from knowing who you are. Of 'carrying yourself like you're cute' - because if you're confident, it'll work.

But he still has a huge amount of resentment for anyone who is allowed to be themselves - because he can't be. Especially in Ed's case - one of them has to be 'the strong one' and he thinks that's him.

Then, Season 2 happens.

In the space of a few episodes, Izzy learned that sharing your feelings is fucking difficult, painful and takes a lot of courage. He's had no choice but to be weak, spilling out all these ugly emotions and being physically dependant on others and in that weakness he wasn't destroyed - he was rebuilt. A little bit of that guard comes down and it doesn't kill him. So, he takes his shirt off and no one stabs him in the back. He's got a gold unicorn leg and he still absolutely wrecks shit up on a raid. He does something a little arty, opens up a tiny bit to Lucius, and he still doesn't die. It doesn't make things worse, it makes them better.

Enter, the drag episode. Suddenly, we've got Izzy in drag. A masculine style of drag, but still, drag. All that internal change, the shifting meaning of strength and masculinity, is externalised, but he's still himself - his face tattoo is redrawn as part of the makeup because it's still his face, if anything, it's MORE his than ever - AND THEN THE SHIP GETS ATTACKED, his worst nightmare - he's as far from hyper-masc as he can be, and now he's in danger.

BUT

In the teaser, we see Izzy telling people who are, presumably there to torture him and the crew, that it's just going to turn him on. He's using Lucius' technique of disarming people with flirty banter. I can't see S1 Izzy being able to do that.

He gets to dress in drag, be sassy and still win a fight because he's strong as shit and that doesn't go away just because he allows himself to be other things too.

[starsandstars]

Clegan University AU

It was snowing outside, at least Gale assumed so, but he wouldn't bet on it. Firstly, because Gale never bets, and secondly, because he had been staring at his book for a good two hours. He wasn’t sure of the exact time either. They had arrived at the hotel late, already after the official dinner was served, and while all his classmates quickly divided their rooms and gathered in the common room, Gale laid down on the bed with his book.

He had no interest in socializing. In fact, he didn't really understand why he even needed to get to know these people. They were just a random bunch of students from different majors at their university. Most of them Gale would never see again, and he planned to ignore the rest for the remainder of the semester anyway.

Of course, Gale had no say in the decision about whether he would go or not. He had to give that up when he promised Bucky that if he went to university with him, he would occasionally let himself be dragged into whatever event Bucky wanted to attend. Gale naturally assumed this would involve an occasional party or a university event, where he would watch Bucky frolic around from some hidden corner while sipping on his ginger beer. This wasn’t anything unusual for him, ever since Bucky was old enough to drink (and honestly even some time before that), he had been dragging Gale along to all sorts of events. Gale learned that it was better to just go, rather than try to protest. Honestly, he actually liked having Bucky in his field of vision. It was easier than having to search for him around town, at 2am after completely wasted Bucky texted him something like "mommy were am I?"

So, when Bucky declared that he would go to university with Gale, only if Gale continued to accompany him to parties, Gale thought it was a good deal. He wanted Bucky to keep studying. Bucky was smart. Sometimes, he might have had issues with his attention span or prioritizing, but he definitely had what it took to successfully complete a university education. Or at least to start it. (It definitely wasn't that Gale couldn't imagine not seeing Bucky every day. Gale was entirely sure that his efforts to get Bucky to university stemmed from his selfless care for Bucky's fulfilled potential.)

Then, a few months later, just as they both settled into their dorm, Bucky excitedly came running with a poster announcing an orientation week at a cabin in the mountains. For the first time, Gale hesitated, wondering, if maybe the deal he made with the devil himself, was going to cost him a little too much.

idk. I never did this. it doesn't even have a name yet but like.. is it readable? should I continue?

[xavviquz]

♥︎ a witch’s curse and an emporors wrath. ♥︎ ryomen sukuna x witch!reader hcs

warnings // attempts of brainwashing, attempts of manipulating, mentions of death, blood, kidnapping, possessiveness, throwing up, forcefeeding, hanging, a bit rushed

notes // this was a request i had recently gotten! i’m glad to be writing this for you and i hope you enjoyed this!! also if any of you guys want to request something for me to write, just specify what and if you want it a fanfic or hc! sorry if this one isnt too good 😞 @rosemaydone321

synopsis: nobody could escape his overwhelming power and wrath, but you. as curious as he was, he dug deeper for the truth.

emporor!sukuna that takes nightly walks to get a break once in a while.

emporor!sukuna who stumbles upon a small cabin, erbs, crystals, animal remains, plants completely filling the area. sukuna walked around the house, peeking his head into the window, seeing you hard at work to make your spells.

emporor!sukuna who stares with curiousity on what you’re doing, and what your purpose was being so far into the forest. as you finished your spell, it was immediately broken. sukuna felt a wave of pain, but it felt as if someone flicked his head, or threw a pebble at him.

emporor!sukuna that knocks you out cold as you were on your way picking up a few fruits and mushrooms to eat.

emporor!sukuna who greets you with your own room, and own clothes. he wants you for himself and he knows it. he sees so much potential.. so much use for you.

emporor!sukuna who grips at your hair when you disobey each order. venom practically spat out your mouth as words pour into his ears. agitated and furious was what he was at this moment.

emporor!sukuna that forces you to eat, make spells and what not for him. you always shook your head and refused to do so. you knew who he was, and what he was. you refused to make the same mistake that people had made many moons ago when they got kidnapped and sent here by the same man.

emporor!sukuna that always tampers with your food, forcing you to eat it each time, and you forcing yourself to throw it back up. every now and then, he’d have someone force your mouth shut as your bidy began to digest the food that he made you consume. it always made you drowsy and left your mind fuzzy.

emporor!sukuna who ends up resorting to the only way he knows you would listen. he restricts your food intake, leaves you working constantly as you did his chores, and he hurt you. each day. a sharp dagger ran up and down your thigh, small cuts being made as blood dripped down your leg and across the now dirty blade.

emporor!sukuna who always has to hurt you in order to get what he wanted out of your pretty little lips. sometimes he’d coo and make fun of you for trying to escape from his grasp.

emporor!sukuna who checks on if you’re following his commands, and you were. and it was like this for months on end. sukuna wouldn’t suspect a thing, you thought.

emporor!sukuna who finally trusts that you will stay by his side as his obedient plaything but that was the opposite in this case. sukuna that grits his teeth when he realizes that you had escaped him. i mean, how could you not?? how could you? how did you? is what he thought. as his anger grew more than the sun that was displayed on the sky, he came to one conclusion.

emporor!sukuna who hated that you had wasted your potential. he ordered his whole empire to search for you, and that they found you. hiding in some cave while you made friends with the wolves.

emporor!sukuna who’s disappointed that your talents couldnt be acknowledged.

emporor!sukuna who scentences you to be hung and burned to death. as you were locked up and shoved in a cell, sukuna did visit you often.

emporor!sukuna who reminds you of what could’ve happened so maybe, just maybe you’d go with him. that maybe, you’d take his offer. but you refused like always.

emporor!sukuna who watches you from the side as you were dragged from your cell, a noose around your neck and the crackling of fire filling the worlds senses.

emporor!sukuna who hears your words even through whispers “for you will find me in every life, and everything will be the same. your confused curiosity and my never ending inflicting pain.” he didnt know what you meant by that until years later, he saw you at the same cabin, and the same woods, at the same time.

a/n: please consider liking, reblogging, commenting, and leaving recommendations!

Ⓒ xavviquz - dont copy, repost, or modify

[skyscratch-wc]

Daisy's Kits

These kids really had so much potential wasted-- I mean you've got two sets of kids with objectively bad fathers and a mother who isn't from Thunderclan originally and is a permaqueen. Plus, there's so much background stuff going on. Toadstep looking up to Lionblaze? Berrynose and Lion's rivalry? Mousewhisker in the Dark Forest and his possible relationship with Minnowtail? Rosepetal mentoring so so many cats? Poor Hazeltail doesn't get much love in canon unfortunately.

Anywho, here are my headcanons for these kids:

Hazeltail

Mischevious, rambunctious, and the go-getter of the older Daisy trio.

Asexual lesbian who has a big ol crush on Hollyleaf when they're kids. She eventually settles for being Mousewhisker's wing-woman

She likes to call Berrynose "Little Brother", much to his frustration

She's a really good big sister to Rosepetal and Toadstep, and supports Toad as he goes through his issues with having an absent father in Spiderleg

Mousewhisker

Hopeless romantic in a relationship with Minnowtail

He and Minnowtail agree that they don't want any kits, that would be too much drama and a lot of hassle. Instead they just enjoy being together and frequently meet down by the lake at night. Hazeltail tags along as a scout/guard in case other cats notice them

He and Hazeltail are collectively referred to as "the twins" since they are inseparable. If you see one, the other is likely nearby

He was brought to the Dark Forest because of his frustrations at the code and how it prevented him and Minnowtail from being together peacefully. Also because he felt left behind in a generation of very import warriors (the Three, Cinderheart, etc.)

Overall, he is probably the most easy-going of his siblings, especially post Dark Forest. He gives off serious stoner vibes y'know

Berrynose

angry man with a chip on his shoulder and some serious self-esteem issues around his small stature

he's a tiny kitty with a lot of anger

Berrynose is bisexual and had a crush/rivalry with Lionblaze as kids. Nevermind the fact that Lionblaze is *huge* compared to Berry and could probably just sit on him to win a fight. He got over Lionblaze and then moved on to Honeyfern and then after her death to Poppyfrost. The guy has some mild commitment issues

Has problems with Mousewhisker's half-clan relationship, but would never say so to his face

The most insecure about he and his siblings not being clanborn

He does his best to have decent relationships with his kids, Cherryfall and Molewhisker, since his father was completely absent from his life

Rosepetal

Lifelong mentor who loves teaching the teens, she would totally be a high school teacher if she were a human

Sometimes ends up as the therapist of her siblings, especially Berrynose and Toadstep.

She's the most patient of her siblings, and as a result is the closest with her angry brother, Berrynose

She doesn't really have the same issues Toadstep does with Spiderleg, she sees him as a deadbeat but doesn't really get too worked up about it. She knows he doesn't really care and therefore won't put energy into a relationship with him

She's aromantic and really has no interest in a mate or kits. She does enjoy the exploits of her siblings though

Toadstep

the youngest brother with some big self esteem issues

He has the hardest time with the fact that he has a deadbeat dad. He spends a lot of time trying to impress Spiderleg when he's younger, despite his siblings constantly telling him that it really isn't worth it.

Toad actually ends up fairly close to his grandparents, Dustpelt and Ferncloud. They become secondary parental figures after his mom and really help the kid gain his footing, especially as an apprentice and young warrior.

Toad really looks up to Lionblaze and sees him as a big brother in a lot of ways. Lionblaze originally didn't return the sentiment but over time has warmed up to Toadstep

Toad frequently gets dragged along on his older twins' (Hazeltail and Mousewhisker) adventures, much to his simultaneous irritation and amusement.

They all really love their mom and would defend Daisy from anyone who says she isn't contributing to the clan. The Twins in particular are very defensive of Daisy, saying that she teaches every young kit and supports all the mother cats of the clan. That is just as valuable as being a warrior.

[luvinghanni]

Oh my gosh your the only one who answered on my ask😭✨

An you do a smut one for him✨ just him being jealous and possessive

Hey Anon! I will absolutely do a smut fic for you 🥳Again apologies if he's OOC but I hope you enjoy ⭐️

Tags: p0rn with little plot, smut, unprotected p in v, cream pie, jealousy, possessiveness, hickeys, slight hair pulling, male dominance, dirty talk, pet names (baby)

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Truly yours. Akira Satou x Fem!Reader smut

Akira had always been protective of you, after all he was a hitman himself and knew better than anyone how disgusting humanity could be at times. Ever since you began dating he's been obsessed with every tiny part of you; you were his and he needed to keep you safe.

Sometimes you had to reassure him and remind him that you were his alone and nobody would ever take you away from him no matter how hard they tried- unfortunately sometimes it would work and sometimes it wouldn't, today was one of those days. The two of you decided to have a night out for the first time in a while consisting of a small dinner, some karaoke, and a walk through the brightly lit streets of Tokyo- however, halfway through the night's events a certain group of men decided it would be fun to catcall you while in the obvious presence of your long-term boyfriend; as expected he did not take kindly to it.

Trying your hardest to diffuse any potential violence between the two parties you ended up dragging Akira home much to his dismay and intense frustration. Steam was practically flooding off his body for the entire 10 minute walk back to your shared apartment.

"Baby..." you gently massaged his tight shoulders as you straddled his lap, Akira sat coldly on the couch head thrown back eyes unblinking at the plain ceiling "it means nothing okay, they're just some asses who don't know when to shut up." soft kisses were placed onto his neck as he moved his strong arms to wrap around your waist pulling you even closer into him. The kisses gradually became more heavy as gentle touches began to trace the toned muscle under his shirt causing the man's attention to snap to you eyebrows raised.

"You should've let me rough them up..just a tiny bit, I can't stand when other people look at you that way." Akira's grip tightened on your hips seemingly angered by the thought "I saved you a lot of shit okay, you can't just rough up everyone who looks at me funny baby." his deep eyes left yours at those words searching for a response but you beat him to it raising his gaze to yours "I think I know how I can make you feel a little better.." slowly slipping your top above your head you i clipped your bra allowing your breasts you relax against your torso. Taking Akira's lips against yours his body tightened; one hand reaching to grip your hair while the other played with your nipples.

Releasing his lips you moved to his neck gently nipping immediately breaking all remaining composure he contained as he threw you over his shoulder carrying you to your shared bedroom before placing you on the bed as if you were a porcelain doll.

Wasting no time at all both of your clothes were gone in seconds, seeing the jealousy and need in his jet black eyes made you ache more than you ever knew you could. A soft pink tip pushed against your hole coating itself in your arousal before pushing inside in one quick thrust, a loud moan was ripped from your throat and your hands immediately reached for the black hair in front of you for some form of grip. Akira's hips sped up rapidly as he groaned into your ear "Fuck you..you always feel so good, I'm the only one who gets to feel you like this." his rough voice made you tighten around him as he rolled his hips into you.

You'd lost count of how many times you'd finished by this point and how many positions the two of you had explored, fucked out and covered in a mixture of your cum you could feel your mind fog only being able to think about Akira and how good his thick cock felt inside of you. "K-Kira can't take-" pure waffle flooded out of your mouth as his tip hit your G-spot, stars filled your vision as you leaked all over his cock ruining the sheets even further; "Fuck Y/N I'm gonna fill you up- all mine-" with a groan you felt Akira empty out inside of you slowing his hips as he came.

A large body collapsed beside you sweaty and panting signalling for you to roll yourself up close to him so he could embrace your warm body to which you happily complied. Looking up at soft eyes you felt his now slightly chapped lips briefly press against yours before pressing another kiss against your forehead, "..You really do mean the world to me Y/N" he started- while you knew Akira was never one for tears you could feel how genuine in emotion that short statement was "And you mean the world to me Kira." tucking your head into his chest you drifted into sleep blissfully with the knowledge that he would always protect and love you.

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This was not one of my best ones i am so utterly exhausted 😭

I hope it's to your liking though anon, as always it's a pleasure to answer any requests and they are always welcome ⭐️

- Hanni

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Final Fuck You to my Undergrad Uni

I personally think it's more like a monologue. But here it goes. A bit of a long piece of explicit writing about my 4 years at this shit hole. Glad to be done here ✌🏾. Grad pic beneath the cut

Tag list (normal poetry peeps and people I saw like the og post): @nanashi23 @winterandwords @vacantgodling @the-void-writes @weirdgirlcroix

Imma have to start this off with the fattest fuck you 

Fuck the campus 

Fuck the board of trustees 

Fuck the professors that should've been denied their doctorate degrees

And fuck you 

For thinking I'd respond kindly to all the times you've fucked me over

I wonder how many times I can curse 

Before you flag parental advisory 

To a campus full of fucking adults 

And those underage kids you drag in wasting potential 

On these hills that make me wanna eat ammo 

And chomp on gun barrels till my gums bleed 

And I get a few more cracks in my back teeth

I wonder how much money I've blown 

On liquor bottles that suck at deluding 

And beer cases that take their sweet fucking time 

In numbing my mental anguish 

Shits got those razor nails that can gouge 

And maybe I'd enjoy the sting 

If the bitch wasn't clawing out my eyes

Then stabbing straight through my stomach 

Twirling my intestines like spaghetti dinner 

With my blood gushing out onto the only carpeted floor in the fucking building 

Wouldn't be the first time this place tried to bleed a nigga dry. 

And my account's touched the negative for vending machine sodas and Monster energy drinks 

But at least they make damn good microphones

Cause I've gotten a little to used to putting on shows

Even if the alcohol, caffiene, and paranoid fuckery 

Warped my heartbeat

And it beats to the tune of decorating my fridge with knuckle imprints

Cause why the fuck would I spend money I don't have on a pretty decoration

And it even beats to climbing through windows for projects that root so deep the only thoughts I think are on the time that ticks by

And hunch a little more into myself as our equivalent of Walmart security roams the lit halls

And the clacking of their keys reminds me that I've imprisoned me

And sometimes my heartbeat matches my fists hitting my desk drawer 

Till the shit up top falls 

And the pencils are the only thing raining 

Cause I already spent all my money by just fucking living

And my heart tries not to beat through my chest 

When my family asking for funds that ain't ever exist

The fattest fuck you goes to 

This hell hole 

Where the flames are white hot with white people

Who love to toss shit into the flames 

And their alabaster babies 

Who ain't ever seen a black kid 

Say the world's most insensitive shit

And act suprised when their "ocean eyes" give reptilian beast instead

And I'd rather drown myself in the lab sink 

Chew on the bacteria loaded chunks along the way

Than pretend they're as gorgeous as this bitch ass campus.

I'd love to say thank you 

Hell I'd even say I'd love you 

It's a lie real easy to slip off the tongue as of late 

And maybe it's the brain damage of back to back all nighters

Or being dragged into unconsciousness on tables and radiators

Could even be the liquor that don't even taste the same 

And sometimes I still toss the cap and drink straight from the bottle

Drink that shit like the holy water I've never dared to bathe in

And I'm sure to keep my head back

Even if the shit tastes like failure and fear 

Then again when does a half assed attempt taste better than a solid victory

So I make sure I don't spill

And I'll beat it into the ground 

A STEM major is a wicked thing 

I lost two family members and couldn't even leave 

You suffer in every nook on campus just to come back home and asphyxiate in your at home lair

And I ain't one for wailing to fabrications 

In books translated beyond their original truths 

But God 

Thank fucking God 

I am done...

Wasn't so sure I'd live to see the end

And for that I'd drink again

And I'd find a use for all those middle fingers about to spawn

But for now I'll spare the vulgaruity

Cause my mouth real good at not being pretty

[cherubchoirs]

Bit of a stretch but I like to think that V2 is just chilling in the apartment while all this Michael stuff is happening, disassociating from the issue.

What happens to them anyway?

SO...SO CLEARLY….some development has gone on with v2 lately, but first point is that i do have it living apart from gabe and v1 in its own space, though v2 has more crash points for itself – it likes to change its environment sometimes, but its most lived in spaces are in fraud (for the company – largely it’s getting used to gabriel, but things with v1 are still strained at best...v1 is making an effort at least, so it’s something) and in lust (due to the human influence there – limbo is far too artificial for its liking). v2 is largely coming to terms with the idea that its dream of peace is one that will never be realized, and for now is feeding its studious nature in hopes that maybe there can still be some place for it that won’t see its potential entirely wasted. gabriel does keep it in the loop with anything it needs to know, so it’s made aware of michael and the prime souls as threats which prove to be big headaches – in time, i do like the idea it’s one of the few machines minos won’t engage on sight given v2’s particular attachment to humanity, but at first? it shuffles itself off grudgingly into the uncanny valley of limbo to avoid him. WHICH. is where it meets michael.

i very much like the idea that michael basically tries to fuck around with lust and finds out, not fully realizing how badly he’s injured when he fights against minos as it was meant to be a more fact-finding mission to assess the power of a prime soul. however, since his sensation is completely fucked, minos takes a lot more out of him than he meant to allow (he direly underestimated the amount of damage a prime soul can do in a short amount of time), and he only recognizes that when his wings have difficulty getting him off the ground, his movements becoming far too slow. the good news for him is that he’s still fully capable of teleporting to retreat...he just doesn’t get very far with how drained he is and how limited his light has become. he lands in limbo and almost immediately collapses, though knowing he’s safe even just a layer up since he won’t be pursued. except. when mike is passed out, he basically looks like a forest floor corpse, and that’s pretty much exactly what v2 takes him as upon finding him. it’s instantly utterly fascinated by him, as angelic carcasses aren’t exactly common, and it starts poking around to study his necrobiome which is actually a welcome sight in the artificiality of limbo. it didn’t even KNOW plants like this could grow in hell...but perhaps that speaks to the unique properties of an angel’s body. it delicately begins to catalog the species it can see, careful not to damage the still well-preserved internal anatomy since it’s been tricky finding many sources on the insides of angels, but most of all it sort of just. marvels at him. it’s like an entire little living world in hell, flowers, moss, fungus, and even insects all clinging to the body and nothing around it. much more beautiful than the rest of limbo anyway.

it spends a couple hours like this until it decides to remove his helmet in hopes of finding a decent-looking head beneath it (gabe’s so cagey about it) – unfortunately just the first gentle tug is enough to snap mike awake and instinctively grab at v2’s arm, scaring the living shit out of it!!! YEA there’s plenty of fucked up guys in hell, but this one has a whole ecosystem!!!! he looks like he’s been lying there for weeks!!!! and yet...with a split-second more thought, this is by far more interesting than the alternative, and v2 scuttles to catch up to michael trying (and failing) to drag himself away from it, black, bile-like ichor coughed up from the cracks in his helmet. he needs help. and while michael’s pride and hatred initially dismiss v2’s pestering entirely, i think he gets worn down for a few reasons coupled with a dull, sometimes now faulty mind – v2 speaks and reasons, and it expresses a clear desire to help despite mike being a pretty easy source of blood at the moment (he knows even that is rancid, but apparently the machines can still get something out of it). additionally, it extends that offer into understanding him, into possibly providing him answers that even heaven has failed to produce...and michael wants that more than he wants anything. more than punishing the sinners left, more than reinstating god’s will, more, perhaps, than finding god himself by now. he just wants to know what happened and if anyone can save him. it’s sinful, it’s selfish, but he’s so exhausted and all he feels is the rot infecting every inch of his body inside and out. and so he stops. and it’s an evil thing, looking to answers from something never touched by god. but maybe that’s why he accepts, because while he doesn’t consciously admit to it, god’s kingdom has failed him.

SO v2 gets a great science experiment trying to figure out what happened to michael, which the two are incredibly secretive about for obvious reasons – v2 learns a bit later this is the michael is was supposed to avoid (oops) while michael CLEARLY doesn’t want anyone ever knowing he would be seeing a machine for help and advice. this causes a lot of friction whenever they meet, yet because of everything i mentioned in that earlier ask, they start bonding without recognizing it or fully committing to it. they are both desperately lonely and trying to recover from losing the maker they had been so dedicated to, a dedication so powerful in both of them that they had destroyed themselves for it. AND LISTEN. NOT TO GET TOO LOST IN IT BUT. i think it’s quietly life-altering for mike when v2 expresses genuine belief that he’s beautiful as he is now. everyone is so afraid to look at him. he’s afraid. but v2 isn’t, not in the slightest as it takes in every part of him and freely offers its amazement, touches him without any hesitation. and while v2 basically just meant as an opinion, they both immediately realize how it’s taken and are like uh oh!!!!!!!! oh fuck oh no!!!!!!! they’re in it now and are actually in a little deep!!!!

[crooked-corvid-whump]

Part 2 to this post

tagging @mj-or-say10, who requested a part 2! :))

Warnings: Implied/referenced noncon, noncon touch, noncon kissing (kinda), burns, collars, dehumanization, lmk if I’m missing anything

(PS-- Could possibly become a longer series, if anybody would be interested?? If so, should I give the characters names or leave them with the placeholders? Lmk!)

Caretaker had gotten off relatively easy that night. Teammate D was by no means kind, but he was better than the others, and, when all was said and done, Caretaker was left with only a couple of bruises splotched here and there. It hadn’t taken long, and afterward he was left to find what rest he could while Teammate D did the same. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t much rest at all. Caretaker rarely slept— and he never slept well— but tonight was even worse than usual because he couldn’t stop thinking about the concubus. About the way they’d screamed as Whumper B held their arm over the fire. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he could still see the desperate terror that had danced with the reflected firelight in their eyes. 

He knew he couldn’t have done anything to stop it. He knew that. In all likelihood, if he’d tried, both of them would have been punished and he would have made it worse. But that didn’t stop the guilt that threatened to choke him because he should have done more. He should have done something. He’d been their only potential ally in a crowd of people who treated their torture as a form of entertainment and he’d just sat there. 

They hadn’t looked to him for help. They hadn’t looked to anyone; they had known no help was coming. That isolation, that knowledge that no one around you would intervene no matter what they did to you— it was a kind of fear he knew all too well, and his stomach churned. He knew exactly how they must have felt, kneeling there by that fire, all eyes on them as both people they knew and ones they didn’t watched with rapt attention as their skin blistered and bubbled. 

Memories weren’t the only thing that kept him awake, though. From a few tents away, he could hear them crying. He could hear other things, too— things that made it clear that Whumper was not yet asleep— and Caretaker did his best to stop his mind from conjuring up images to accompany the sounds, to no avail. Images rose up to craft sorely unwanted scenarios of what was happening to the other demon just a couple of tents away. What Whumper was doing to them. 

For hours he lay like that, trying not to listen to the sounds he couldn’t help hearing. Possibilities blended and blurred with memories until Caretaker was lost in recollections of hands in his hair, hands around his throat, hands roaming hungrily over his body, nails raking down his back, teeth pressed to his skin hard enough to draw blood. He shuddered as bile rose in his throat. His nails pressed into his palm, the pain bringing him back from the ledge he’d been teetering on, and he heaved a breath. Not now, he thought. Not here. 

Caretaker pushed himself upright and slid off the cot, slipping, unnoticed, out of the tent. He wandered toward the fire pit and slumped on one of the logs, staring numbly at where the fire had been. The night air was cold, but he didn’t bother expending the energy to conjure up some warmth. Besides, the chill kept him present. 

No one disturbed him as he sat there. No one came to drag him back into the tent to make sure he wouldn’t bolt. They all knew just as well as he did that Caretaker had nowhere else to go and very little chance of making it very far before they caught him again, so they didn’t bother wasting time or resources on keeping him locked down. It was almost worse than if they did put him in chains, and sometimes Caretaker wondered if it was on purpose. If it was just another way to taunt him, a display of power. Like he was a well-trained dog, so obedient that no leash was needed to keep him at his master’s heel. He scowled. 

Not for the first time, his mind went to the plan he’d been cooking up to make his great escape. It was just a pipe dream, of course, just a comforting fantasy, but he sometimes wondered if maybe… 

He had it all worked out. In this little daydream of his, he would barge into Whumper’s tent in the middle of the night and take the keys for the trucks. Whumper couldn’t stop him. He may have been half-starved, but he was still a demon, and Whumper was only human. If it came down to it, Caretaker could overpower him easily. Then, he’d get into the smallest, least conspicuous of the vehicles and simply drive away and never look back. 

It was easy in his head. Easy enough that it almost seemed achievable, until he factored in the hundreds of ways it could and surely would go wrong. Even if he made it out, where would he go? To the nearest city, to be immediately discovered by the king’s soldiers? To the woods, with nowhere to stay and no human energy to feed on? Even going to a mage hideout would be a risk, considering what he was, and that was assuming he could even find one.

It was impossible. Of course it was impossible. It was a stupid plan. But sometimes he wondered.

At some point during Caretaker’s daydreaming, the noise from Whumper’s tent had subsided, save for the concubus’ gentle and unrelenting crying. Even that had gotten softer, so quiet now that Caretaker wouldn’t have been able to detect it if he was human, but he wasn’t. His heart ached for them. He wanted to go to them, to be one bright spot for them in the suffocating darkness they were both caught in. He wanted to break Whumper’s fingers for touching them because god, they were so small. Not physically— they weren’t young by human standards, not by a long shot, and maybe not even by demon ones— but Caretaker was an expert in reading people and everything about them screamed gentleness. Innocence. They don’t deserve this.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t know them— they were the only one of his kind he’d seen since being cast out of his home, and he needed them to be safe. There was a bond there, an innate tie to one another simply because they were both foreigners to this realm and they were both hurt for that. 

Maybe he was the only one that felt it. Maybe they hadn’t given him a second thought. But it didn’t matter because he did feel it, and it fucking hurt. 

That half-baked escape plan was looking more enticing by the minute. If he could get them out of this…maybe it was worth the risk. 

He shook that thought away. Hope was a dangerous thing for people like him, moreso when it was most assuredly a false one. It wouldn’t— couldn’t— happen, and it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He tried to reel in his wandering thoughts, bring them back to safer topics, but the only other thing he could focus on was the sound of the concubus’ soft whimpers. That, and the steadily growing urge to sneak into Whumper’s tent to see them. 

It was only a few more minutes before he gave in. 

Caretaker stood and made his way soundlessly to the front of the tent, pushing back the flap and slipping inside. The setup was sickeningly familiar to him, down to the placement of the cot and the flickering candle on the engraved pewter dish. On the cot, Whumper was sound asleep, his hair mussed and his torso bare. 

Caretaker grimaced and turned away, immediately catching sight of Whumpee, who was curled in a ball on the ground. Unsurprising. Whumper had no problem fucking a demon, but god forbid he let one sleep in his bed. He’d always made his disgust at that notion abundantly clear. 

A flimsy leash that was clearly more for show than functionality was clipped to Whumpee’s collar, tethering them to a leg of the cot. 

Whumpee hadn’t looked up when Caretaker came in, and they remained motionless as he took a few careful steps toward them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure they knew he was there. He moved to the side so he was approaching them from the front, making sure to move slowly so he wouldn’t startle them, but when they still didn’t show any sign that they’d noticed his presence, he knelt down in front of them. 

They jolted, then, tensing and drawing in a sharp breath as they blinked up at him, a soft whine catching in their throat. They bit their lip, their eyes flicking nervously back and forth, to his face and then away. 

Caretaker offered them what he hoped was a reassuring smile, relaxing his posture to try and seem less of a threat. Whumpee glanced back at him, and when they saw his kind expression, some of the fear in their eyes melted into uncertainty. 

It was a step in the right direction, at least. 

Whumpee shifted, eyeing Caretaker cautiously as they pushed themself into a sitting position, their knees drawn to their chest. In the flickering candlelight, Caretaker could see the tear tracks staining their cheeks, as well as several fresh bruises. As his eyes travelled down, cataloguing their injuries, he found another bruise peeking out from under their collar, deep, violent purple ringing their throat. A bite mark above their collarbone. Angry red scratches curling over their shoulder. And, of course, the vicious burns on their arm. It was a struggle to keep the anger from showing on his face, but he managed.

When Caretaker looked back up to meet Whumpee’s gaze, their brows were furrowed in confusion, but their eyes were wide with— what? Recognition? Awe? Caretaker didn’t understand at first, but he realized after a moment that they were staring at his horns. 

“You’re…” They trailed off. Their voice shook and it sounded raw— probably from the screaming, or the crying, or a combination of the two. They didn’t finish their thought, but it didn’t matter. Caretaker knew what they meant. 

“Yeah. I am.” He smiled a little wider, a little softer. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another demon.”

They just nodded. 

The wariness had gone from their gaze, and they stared at him now with a reserved intensity that he found hard to describe. It was subdued, but at the same time desperate, and almost…almost a little hopeful. It was a strange thing to be on the receiving end of. Whatever that little flicker of hope was, he wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. To be whatever it was they were hoping he’d be.

At that moment, Whumper stirred. It was brief, a slight shift of position, but Whumpee jerked back as though struck. Their eyes went wide and wild with panic, their breath catching in their throat as a whimper slipped past their lips before they could stop it.

It was quiet, but it was enough.

As Caretaker tried to calm them down, tried to reassure them that they were safe, Whumper’s eyes blinked open. The grogginess of his sudden awakening lasted only a moment, and then he was on his feet, his eyes narrowed and focused squarely on Caretaker.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, incubus?” 

Caretaker stood and plastered on his trademark smirk, shifting to the side to shield Whumpee from Whumper’s view.

“Just stopped by for a little visit. Got a problem with it?”

Bad move. Whumper closed the distance between them, and in an instant his hand was fisted in Caretaker’s hair, yanking harshly.

“I’ve got a problem with you. I thought I’d taught you some fucking manners by now. But if you need a refresher, that can be arranged.” 

Caretaker laughed. He was already in deep shit— may as well commit to it. 

“Have you considered that maybe you’re just not a very good teacher?”

Whumper’s eyes blazed with fury. He backhanded Caretaker across the face. Hard. 

“Stop it! Don’t hurt him!”

Whumper turned to Whumpee, who had gotten to their feet as well, and grinned mockingly. “Oh look, the little toy learned to speak.” He cocked his head to the side. “I suggest you unlearn it, unless you’re looking for an encore to our performance earlier.” 

They cringed back, fear flashing across their face, but they held their ground. 

“Fuck you. J-just leave him alone.” 

Whumper lit up with a sick delight. He released Caretaker, stepping around him and advancing on Whumpee. They stumbled back, but the leash clipped to their collar only let them get so far.

“What was that?” Whumper’s tone walked the line between anger and excitement, and it made Caretaker’s skin crawl. Whumpee just shook their head frantically as Whumper approached.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I-”

“No. Say it again.”

“J-just leave him a-alone…”

“No, no, the bit before that. Say it.” 

Whumper was upon them now, and he hooked a finger in the front of their collar as they hyperventilated, still shaking their head. They’d started crying again. 

When Whumper leaned in, his teeth scraping against their throat, they stopped moving, though their body still shook violently and their chest still heaved with panicked sobs. 

That was too much for Caretaker. He surged forward, pulling Whumper away from Whumpee and shoving him to the floor. Whumper stared up at him in incredulous fury. Before he could get up to retaliate, Caretaker sent a surge of magic at him, stunning him. 

“The keys. Where are they?”

Whumper only glared. Sensing that he might need a little encouragement, Caretaker focused, conjuring an invisible band of magic around Whumper’s neck and squeezing until Whumper started gasping for breath, his face turning a bright red, then blueish. Caretaker relented, then asked again. This time, Whumper twitched his finger, managing enough movement to point to his pocket. 

Caretaker leaned down and snatched the keys. He sent another, stronger surge of magic at Whumper, and this time he made it hurt. He smirked when Whumper eked out a sound that surely would have been a scream had his throat not been paralyzed, then turned to Whumpee. They were still shaking, still gasping in short, hiccupping breaths, and still crying. 

Caretaker went to them and reached for them slowly, giving them time to move away. When they didn’t, he rested a hand on their shoulder, waiting again for them to pull away. They didn’t. He took a small step closer, and they surprised him by closing the short distance between them, burying their face in his shoulder. His arms came up around them, holding them tightly as they trembled against him, running one hand soothingly over their back while the other came up to subtly unclip the leash from their collar. 

He hushed them softly, cooing gently to them while they cried. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

When they finally caught their breath, Caretaker drew back reluctantly. 

“C’mon. We’ve gotta go now, yeah?”

The concubus sniffed and wiped their eyes with shaky hands, nodding. When he offered his hand, they took it and followed him out of the tent.

They made it to the vehicles unhindered, and Caretaker unlocked the doors of the nearest one, helping Whumpee into the passenger seat. He rounded the front and climbed in on the driver’s side, then shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and as he backed the vehicle out of the circle and drove away from the camp, the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath the tires was music to his ears.

[nflstreetsanimereviews]

The Problem(s) with A Galaxy Next Door

A Galaxy Next Door was a show that had in hindsight little potential to be anything special. I gave it a shot only because my friend told me he was watching it. Sometimes you’ll miss out on cool shows if you don’t take recommendations from others…unfortunately, A Galaxy Next Door was a dud. A failure to launch. It never had anything going for it, and was perfectly okay with it.

A Galaxy Next Door is about Ichirou Kuga–a mangaka who’s overworking himself to a near breaking point. With his last two assistants quitting in order to pursue their own dreams, he’s shouldered the burden of not only supporting himself but also his two younger siblings. The only other source of income for them is the social apartment that he inherited from his late father. It’s implied that they’re not that well off, but considering they own a (small) apartment complex, they can’t be that destitute. If anything, he could always sell the place and relocate him and his siblings to a smaller, more appropriate, house. Well, at least there are no bad landlords in fiction.

Back to his ‘breaking point’–when he’s near missing a deadline, Shiori Goshiki appears. She applies to be his new assistant, saving the day for him and his manga. Her skills at drawing are impressive, especially considering she’s only been practicing (and reading manga) for a year! You see, Goshiki is a ‘princess’ from a ‘kingdom’. That kingdom is some remote island that’s basically just like us, but not because they have alien nobility. Yes, Goshiki is an alien…the only feature she has different from any of us is that she has an invisible stinger on her back.

Kuga accidentally touches that stinger, which ‘binds’ them to marriage. Wow, how lucky for him. This is in episode one by the way. There’s almost no build-up to this. Just him touching that invisible stinger, which seals his fate for him. The rest of the anime is them acting awkwardly around each other while trying to delay the inevitable.

I’m sure you can see the first problem with A Galaxy Next Door…it’s boring as all hell. Every episode is pretty much the same, with the main two acting flustered around each other for twenty minutes and then the episode ends. Maybe his two siblings get some words in. They don’t add that much truth be told. A Galaxy Next Door seems to be deathly afraid of Kuga and Goshiki having distance from each other, to the point where they become sick if they’re more than like ten miles apart. It holds a paranoid view that they always HAVE to be together. There’s nothing that leads you to want to see what happens next. No excitement, no thrill, no mystery. Just constant reassurance that Kuga loves Goshiki and Goshiki loves Kuga. It feels like the whole show is them trying to justify their relationship, something that shouldn’t exist in the first place. Like really, Goshiki’s invisible stinger never plays any further role in the show…maybe after episode 7, but that was when I had enough of it.

What makes A Galaxy Next Door even worse is that the pacing is awkward. It feels like I’m watching a screenplay done by middle schoolers. It has the pacing of The Room. Scenes that should only be a few minutes long drag on for half the episode, making you feel like you’re wasting your time. The incredibly slow and stilted pacing makes an already boring show even harder to watch.

When the ending is finalized at the beginning, the least the story could do is be interesting. A Galaxy Next Door forgoes that in a bid to establish a ‘safe space’. One where Kuga and Goshiki’s relationship can’t ever be seriously challenged. One where they act like pre-teens in their first relationship, except that they’re both adults that can barely handle holding hands. Look, I get that it’s a common trope, but at least act like you’ve been there before. Is this really ‘healing’? Are there people that watch this and feel better afterward? I sure as hell didn’t. There’s nothing that A Galaxy Next Door offers that hasn’t already been done better by other anime. The Angel Next Door Spoils Me Rotten shares similar themes, however, does it in a way more compelling way. It also actually has some comedic scenes–something A Galaxy Next Door, despite being labeled a ‘comedy’, fails to have. If you want to watch an anime where the leadup to the main couple being in a relationship is solved within one episode, and the rest of the show is them giving each other constant reassurance, even if they’re bound to marriage, then A Galaxy Next Door is your show. If you want to watch something that manages to be 10 times more interesting while being 60 times as short, then you can watch Porsche mechanics change the front brakes on a 911 RSR in under 30 seconds.

[alwaysspeakshermind]

When I say 'I ship it'

this is what I mean:

Because I believe just about anything and everything can (and should!) be analyzed, I have decided to post a trio of unnecessary charts I made once upon a time in college, while I was supposed to be studying. 

Are they exciting? No!

But they do help illustrate the method to my personal madness, and I've got a 'favorite ships' list I've been needing to finish for like a year now that I feel like this will help explain, so there’s that. 

How I ship: lazy little flowchart edition

For me, it’s not about tropes, aesthetics, or the following of/rebelling against canon. It’s essentially chemistry, story, and overall execution that sell me on a pairing, and all three need to be present in order to reel me in. 

Ex. 1: If the chemistry is dynamite but the setup is meh or the storyline takes a dive/drags too long/rushes too much etc., I’m out. Maybe I'll read a fanfic or two for a taste of What Could Have Been If..., but effectively, I'm out.

Ex. 2: If the setup/potential is the most brilliant, epic piece of art in the history of the written/spoken word but the chemistry is blah or the actual execution of the relationship doesn’t live up to the preamble, I’m not just kind of out...I’m Viola-Davis-grabbing-her-purse gif out, and I’m locking the door behind me, and I might even be considering writing a strongly-worded rant on how annoyed I am over my time being wasted.

Ex. 3: If the relationship, whenever it finally happens, is the cutest/hottest/most magnetic and beautiful example of a well-written and loving relationship ever but the chemistry is so-so and the setup is barely there, I may not be out, but I’m definitely not in, because who in the world is excited to drink lukewarm coffee? Not me, so thank you, but no thank you.

That’s just how it is.

And even if I love a ship, certain writing choices can still turn me off of them/lessen my liking for them; while I do sometimes joke about cherry-picking from canon, I don’t as a rule just ignore things I hate and hype what I like because I can’t. It’s like lying to myself, and I don’t roll like that. When I ship, I’m ultimately shipping a dynamic (And yes, the dynamic is usually take-charge, kind-of-b!tchy girl and a feels all the feels/flies-by-the-seat-of-the-pants guy, but what of it?), but I need the dynamic to be built on something that feels organic to both story and characters so that the exasperatingly practical part of my brain isn’t interrupting with things like “But why would they get together?”/ “Why would they get together now?” 

Like...I don’t care if we’re discussing animated mice (Disney's The Rescuers) or elderly assassins (RED). I need to see that they like each other, I need to see why they’re great together, and I need to see why it makes sense for them to get together when they do, as opposed to earlier or later.

So, in summary...I do not convince myself to ship. The ship convinces me, and there is a definable process.

Levels of shipping: cute (love-themed?) colors edition

This one’s pretty self-explanatory, so I’ll be quick. 

Lowest level = “I don’t NOT ship it” = the default level = the ingredients are all there, the finished product is just not tasty enough to tempt me. (Maybe they were mixed improperly, maybe the cookies were pulled from the oven too soon, maybe they had all the ingredients for a delectable layer cake and chose instead to make cornbread and call it dessert, maybe they just served me vanilla when I wanted chocolate, etc.) Highest level = “I hardcore ship it” = the rarest level of shipping I attain = however calm I claim to be about loving this pairing, I am downplaying it because I am actually unhinged. I adore them. You will never make me stop shipping them. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn because babes, we have PASSED the point of no return and I have ZERO regrets.

Rough Shipping #s: extremely unscientific version that I would never let my old stat prof see b/c it would make her sad and possibly think about revoking that good grade she gave me

Whatever the fictional medium, my default shipping mode is neutral...most of the time, when I read a book or watch a show/movie, I don’t care one way or another about the relationships presented. My primary concerns are “do they work?” and if the answer is “yes, they have a not unpleasant dynamic, and the proper amount of work has been put into developing that dynamic,” then I sort of go “okay, good for them” and I move on.

If the answer is “no, they’re kind of boring/basic/bland etc. and they just sort of happen for no discernible reason and/or leave a bad taste in my mouth” then I roll my eyes, get through it as soon as possible, and move on. It’s out of the ordinary for me to love a ship, but it is even more out of the ordinary for me to actively dislike a ship, and it is rarest of all for me to hate a ship. So when I say I adore a ship, it’s kind of a big deal. And when I say I loathe a ship...yeah, well. You get the picture.

In summary:

When I say "I ship it," I mean all the above elements have clicked for me. I have gone through a process to reach this point. I'm not just going "ooh, pretty people, I want them together!" or "ooh, character I relate to most! I want them with character I'd want to be with most!"

Nope.

It's about the journey AND the destination AND the pre-journey prepwork, but it's also about an X-factor, something special I respond to with each ship...and at the end of the day, if that little unexplainable spark is there I'll ship it. If it's not, I won't.

[novemberrage]

sansa stark playlist (made up of almost entirely taylor swift songs)

blinding by florence and the machine

“Seems that I have been held in some dreaming state

A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake

No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber.”

this woman's work by maxwell

“All the things we should’ve done. 

We never did. 

All the things that you needed from me. 

All the things I should’ve given”

you were bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift

“No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea.”

paradise by coldplay

“When she was just a girl she expected the world

But it flew away from her reach

So she ran away in her sleep”

little bird by the weepies

“Sometimes it's hard to say even one thing true

When all eyes have turned aside, they used to talk to you

And people on the streets seem to disapprove

So you keep moving away

And forget what you wanted to say”

evermore by taylor swift

“I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone

Trying to find the one where I went wrong

Writing letters addressed to the fire

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

That this pain would be for evermore”

no plan by hozier

“Why would you make out of words

A cage for your own bird?

When it sings so sweet

The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?”

between two lungs by florence and the machine

“The sigh that blew me forward

Trapped between two lungs

It was trapped between two lungs

And my running feet could fly

Each breath screaming

"We are all too young to die"

every single night by fiona apple

What'd I say to her?

Why'd I say to her?

What does she think of me?

That I'm not what I ought to be

She by bodie

“And she means everything to me

and I'll be okay

Admiring from afar

Cause even when she's next to me

We could not be more far apart”

crybaby

“You're all on your own and you lost all your friends. 

You told yourself that it's not you, it's them”

high infidelity by taylor swift

“Storm coming, good husband

Bad omen

Dragged my feet right down the aisle

At the house lonely, good money”

winter bird by aurora

“My tears are always frozen

Rest against my pillow like the aging winter sun

Only wake each morning to remember that you're gone

So I drift away again

To winter I belong”

this is me trying

They told me all of my cages were mental

So I got wasted like all my potential…. 

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound

It's hard to be anywhere these days.”

mirrorball by taylor swift

“I'm a mirrorball

I can change everything about me to fit in

You are not like the regulars

The masquerade revelers

Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten.”

running with the wolves by aurora

“Go row the boat to safer grounds

But we're running out of time

Oh, all the echoes in my mind cry

There's blood on your lies

The sky's open wide.”

you’re on your own, kid by taylor swift

“I looked around in a blood soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

Cause there were pages burned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

You’re on your own, kid

You always have been”

from eden by hozier

Babe, there's something tragic about you

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword

Innocence died screaming, oh, ask me I should know”

hoax by taylor swift

“You knew the password, so I let you in the door

You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score?

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

But what you did was just as dark”

flowers by hadestown

“Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

You won’t feel a thing, he said, when you go down

Nothing gonna wake you now

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

And men are kind, until they aren’t”

wolf by first aid kid

“Wayward winds, the voice that sings

Of a forgotten land

See it fall, child of war, oh

Lend a mending hand

When I run through the deep dark forest long after this begun.”

Will i make it out alive by tommee profitt

“The drums inside my chest

Just can't seem to catch a breath

Gotta get out while you can

Gotta get out while you can

Am I gonna swim, am I gonna sink?

Am I gonna bend, am I gonna break?”

snow on a beach by taylor swift

“Tonight feels impossible

But it's coming down 

Like snow on a beach

No sound, it's all around

I can't speak, afraid to jinx it

but your eyes are flying saucers from another planet

Can this be a real thing? Can it?”

things we lost to the fire by bastille

“Things we lost to the flames

Things we'll never see again

All that we've amassed

Sits before us, shattered into ash”

shrike by hozier

“I couldn’t utter my love when it counted

Ah, but i’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now

I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted

Ah, but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now

The words hung above but never would form

like a cry at a final breath that is drawn

Remember me love, when I am reborn.”

the archer by taylor swift

All the king's horses, all the king's men 

Couldn't put me together again. 

Cause all of my enemies started out friends 

Help me hold on to you"

every single night by fiona apple

“What'd I say to her?

Why'd I say to her?

What does she think of me?

That I'm not what I ought to be

Then brother, get back, 'cause my breast's gonna bust open

The rib is the shell and the heart is the yolk

I just made a meal for us both to choke on”

death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift

“Our country, guess it was a lawless land

Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Papercut stings from a paper thin plans

My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust

Tryna find a part of me you didn't take up

Gave you so much, but it wasn’t enough”

peace by taylor swift

“If your cascade ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”

the great war by taylor swift

“My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was egos swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur”

karma by taylor swift

“You're terrified to look down

'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare

Of everyone you burned just to get there

It's coming back around

Ask me what i learned from all those years

Ask me what I earned from all those tears

Ask me why so many fade, but I’m still here”

exile by taylor swift

“I can see you starin', honey

like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me

Second, third and hundredth chances

Balancin' on breaking branches

Those eyes add insult to injury

You’re not my homeland anymore,

so what am i defending now?”

would’ve, could’ve, should’ve by taylor swift

“And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts

Memories feel like weapons

God rest my soul

I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close

Stained glass windows in my mind”

closure by taylor swift

“It's been a long time

And seeing the shape of your name

Still spells out pain

It wasn't right

The way it all went down

Looks like you know that now

Yes, I got your letter

Yes, I’m doing better

I don’t need your closure

up the wolves by the mountain goats

“there's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet

no matter where you live

there'll always be few things maybe several things

that you're going to find really difficult to forgive.

there's gonna come a day when you'll feel better,

and you'll rise up free and easy on that day”

long story short by taylor swift

“I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

And I fell from the pedestal right down the rabbit hole

Pushed from the precipice, climbed right back up the cliff

Past me,

I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things

Your nemeses will defeat themselves before

you get the chance to swing

Long story short, it was a bad time

Long story short, I survived”

[shimii26]

Phoenix: The Recycler Addison

My name is Phoenix, I’m an eco-friendly Addison who specializes in utilizing the materials around me to create new products that Darkners will use to their fullest potential and reduce the space wasted by the data trash other Addisons seem to be so careless with.

Although my goal is to use my talents for the greater good of this Cyber City, I have to admit that sometimes my drive to succeed can lead me to be a little more than just proud of my work. Take for example, my lovely but kitschy work studio and gallery! I call it: Phoenix’s Recycled Fashion And Furniture! I just absolutely adore the fact that every piece of furniture and jewelry piece I sell was made by my own two hands! And it didn’t cost me a dime, I’d like to see any other Addison top with such a cheap price tag on their own shops. In any case, the one product I take the most absolute pride in, are my homemade sandwiches, perfect for a quick lunch, or a much filling snack when you need some quick energy during a busy shift! I can make them any flavor you’d like, you want cucumber and figs? You’ve got it. Gruyere and smoked ham? Gotcha. Cookies and ice cream? Not exactly a traditional sandwich, but I don’t judge, yes I can do that. But by far, my most appraised and demanded food product has to be my homemade egg salad sandwich, seasoned with the finest pixel salt, pepper, and paprika, creamy RAMmayo, and tangy mustardata. What’s the recipe? HA! Funny of you to ask, the recipe is not for sale. I don’t ever dare divulge my biggest trade secret!... Well, I guess I did divulge it once to… someone not that important to others anymore. To me, he was the most important creature, so important to my career choice, and vital to my source of satisfaction in my work. You see, business hasn’t been going that well since I had been caught rummaging through the upper class trash bins for materials, and my mental health hasn’t been very stable. But their reappearance into my life has helped me begin to recover from my own self doubts, and allowed me to re-experience the euphoric feeling just watching someone benefiting from my efforts…

You want to know who that someone is?... Well… You may have heard about the rumor of the one and only Addison in Cyber City history to live on the streets... Yes, he was the one who helped inspire me to show this world what I can do, my ideas, and my creativity… How did I come to meet him?... You see, he and I were nothing more than basic acquaintances for most of our time together, until we managed to reunite many years later, united by the one thing we shared commonality with… Lemme recall my history with him for you.

The story of my relationship with the peculiar Addison begins during my second year of Addison Career Training. Every Addison is required to go through a general line of college-like courses to help them choose a specialty that will help them succeed in life, and maintain a level of happiness required to pass off a friendly face to customers alike. It’s actually quite common for Addisons to experience depression, which is why it’s critical one chooses a specialty that they don’t mind performing for the remainder of their lives, it’s extremely difficult to change your profession as an Addison as it requires some serious data rewriting and paperwork. You only have 3 years to decide your profession, and at the time, I was already more than halfway through my studies, unsure of what I want to pursue. It almost dragged me down to a dark state of depression. I was quite lost as to where I wanted to go in life.

Nevertheless, the two of us were in a general business class together, learning how to approach customers, present advertisements, and strike bargains in order to keep our quotas up to snuff. The reason why we even sat next to each other in the first place was a mere fluke, as it was the last seat in the classroom, and he was the last Addison to enter the room. He was rather an unusual fellow, in all my life I have never seen an albino Addison, it was a very rare pigment to be programmed with, or lack thereof, and yet, there he sat like he wasn’t someone particularly special. He was correct to think that way though, despite his beautiful and bright appearance, he was more or less just another little cog in the everlasting chain of Addison economics. But our people knew better than that; when an albino Addison manifests into reality, it tends to spell trouble for those who get close to them. But I don’t believe in such nonsense, this was merely a rumor spread by more common colored Addisons, typically one would hear this kind of talk from primary colored individuals. Even with that expectation of greatness, succession, and mischieviousness going for him, he was actually quite closeted, almost like a silent pale phantom who lurked in the dark corner of the room. He barely spoke a word, never seeked out any kind of friendship with anyone outside of class, never partnered up in projects, never raised his hand to answer questions. In fact, he seemed to have already given up on his studies, similar to me I guess. I'd be surprised if he managed to write down one page of notes from a 60 slide powerpoint presentation. Every lesson he’d have this depressed far away look in his eyes, dark circles lining his pupils, staring at his notebook, his pencil halfway gripped in his hand. Always looked as though he was going to fall asleep in the middle of the lesson. He never knew this, but I secretly referred to him as “Sad Eyes''. If “routine” was an Addison, this guy would definitely be it. I soon began to pick up on his quirks, and his preferences. Almost every 10 minutes on the dot, he would yawn quietly to himself or huff in exhaustion. After some time I found this quite amusing even though he was clearly not in a good mood. 

But the most intriguing behavior I’ve noticed from him is his snack preferences. This Addison was an avid fan of protein and savory flavors, quite an unusual preference in taste as most Addisons were fans of sweet treats and pastries. We weren’t allowed to have snacks during lessons as our professor deemed it a distraction, but once the bell rang for the end of the period, all bets were off, and most students would whip out their treats, especially since our class was the midpoint to lunchtime. I never had to look at the clock to know what time it was in class, I could tell just from his little routine quirks. For example, I knew when there was about 5 minutes left of the lesson, he had quite the appetite, and I could hear his stomach growling for his midmorning snack at the exact same time. His eyes would change expression to a more worried look at that point, I guess hunger made him quite uncomfortable, I suppose I can relate to that worry. Perhaps his stature took more of a toll on his energy than expected as he was also quite short for an Addison, most of us top the charts at around 6 foot, but he was a mere 4 foot 10, which even added more rarity to his existence. Having to work harder to even just walk around campus must make his body crave high amounts of protein, so he quickly became a fan of having hard boiled eggs for his snack; they were quick to pack, easy to carry, came in their own wrapper, and took no time to gobble down. These were things I could tell he and I valued at the same time; efficiency, time saving, and major satisfaction results. Afterall, at the end of his snack, he had nothing to throw away while every other Addison that had a snack had some form of wrapper or package to toss; they clearly don’t see the damage they’re causing to our city with their carelessness in packaging.

Most Addisons would often give him dirty looks whenever he ate hard boiled eggs after class, it wasn’t because of the way he was eating them, it was because he was eating eggs in the first place. Eggs to Addisons, even those that come from farm animals, are considered a bit taboo to eat as many Addisons have the ability to lay eggs, and we view that as a form of cannibalism. Some lay ones that can be eaten, others can lay ones that can be used as a weapon, but in this day and age, it’s rare to ever see an Addison use their eggs for anything other than tossing them out once laid. You only ever see Addisons stooping so low as to eat their own eggs or other’s eggs when they are going through hard times, which again, was very rare as there hasn’t been a completely unsuccessful Addison in history.

It infuriated me with every lesson to see that trash bin filled with stuff that will never see the LED light again, never be used to its full potential. I hated it so much, it just made me want to pull the trash out of the barrel myself and rub it in everyone’s face, yelling at them not to waste so much. But I know that’s something I can’t do…

Or can I?...

I don’t know what caused it, but after months of scowling at that trash barrel and seeing “Sad Eyes” growing more and more hopeless with each lesson passing us by, a feeling I can’t describe suddenly came over me. I’ve yet to know what the feeling is truly called, but rumor has it that it’s something called “determination”. But either way, one day, an idea struck my mind like lightning, an idea that would help change not only the amount of garbage being thrown out between each individual, but also help shift the stigma of the little Addison who sat next to me. I knew I’d be the only one to carry this idea out, as it was… controversial to say the least. Addisons are not known for recycling, as evidenced by the Trash Zone not far from Cyber City. For an Addison to try and make a product from literal garbage, let alone sell it successfully, was completely unheard of, it was also about being shiny and brand spanking new to attract customers, Lightners with real money like loud and proud products such as those, and rarely show interest in thrifting. I thought it would be best to start with something that I knew was in high demand in my class; something to eat. Almost everyone in my class liked to eat something once the lesson was over, this would be my ticket to insert my recycling ideas into the grape vine…

But what would they want to eat? Everyone seemed to have something different everyday, it was difficult to determine a pattern of preferred snacks… except for “Sad Eyes”, he was the only one with a pattern I could recognize. He loved protein, especially hard boiled eggs… Perhaps the food idea I have could even break a second stigma! Yes, I will make something that not even “Sad Eyes” can’t resist; egg sandwiches! They’ll hit all his requirements; high in protein, major savory flavor points, and no waste if I wrap them in something compostable! I had no time to waste, I can’t let this idea leave my mind!

After my classes that day, I quickly ran to the student kiosk and grabbed some ingredients for the sandwiches, as well as requested a spot where I could sell my new idea. Addisons that want to sell food products, condiments, or basic household gadgets could request a space to begin selling their stuff, sort of like a practice for when they start to sell their stuff out in Cyber City. Plus, it was a way to make some quick cash if needed. But cash I really wasn’t interested in, I was on a bigger mission. I bought everything I would need to make the sandwiches and quickly ran back to my dorm, setting all the ingredients down on my desk. Now it was time for the hard part; getting the ratios of every ingredient correct. I knew it would take me a few attempts, so I made myself small batches to taste test which combination would be the tastiest. Batch one was of course way too strong on the mustardata, I needed to dial it back a bit. Batch two was too liquidy, too much RAMayo to egg. Batch three was lacking a bit of salt and pepper… Batch four tasted…

Incredible!

I had done it, the ultimate recycled egg sandwich was complete! Suddenly I was like a racecar, making sandwich after sandwich, until they filled up the space on my desk. Once those were done, I set to work also preparing some homemade ketchup to go with them, made out of the veggies I picked up from the kiosk. I quickly wrapped them up in their compostable wrapper and set them in the fridge. One dozen sandwiches, ready to be bought and enjoyed!...

Now I had to get them back to the student kiosk.

I didn’t want anyone to recognize me and begin to badger me about my creation, so I wore a large hoodie on my way to the store. With the egg sandwiches in hand, I sneakily but casually strolled into the student kiosk store and placed them inside the fridge where I had reserved a spot for me to sell them. I had asked the owner of the store if I could keep my name off of the shelf of my sandwiches as I wanted to remain an anonymous seller, which they found peculiar, but obliged as they believed they understood my feelings. Once they were in, I quickly made my way out without any students noticing me. I’m not sure where it came from, but afterwards I gained such a rush, knowing that something I had prevented from going to waste was going to go to good use, nourishing whoever will give it a try. Perhaps I was secretly desiring “Sad Eyes” to give them a try, he does love his protein, and rightfully so. But at that time, I didn’t care who was going to eat them, as long as they were eaten and enjoyed. The next day I walked by the student kiosk and saw the sandwiches were still there. I guess for most, purchasing an anonymous maker’s sandwich was a turn off, I don’t blame them, especially being made of eggs, but I was just so hesitant to be judged. I wanted the art to speak for itself, and it did just that the next day…

- - -

(10:45) Business Tactics 103 Auditorium on Friday:

“Now that we’ve covered the basics of bargaining, let’s begin to discuss alternative ways to get customers interested in the prices of your products.” Our professor spoke, changing the powerpoint slide to the next lesson.

Urgh, just thinking about that class makes me want to fall asleep… I was growing bored of the lesson, so I subtly looked over at “Sad Eyes” and watched him, he was just as slumped and exhausted as ever, with only half a page of notes filled out while I probably was on my fifth page of notes. He was clearly in a bad mood today if he couldn’t even be bothered to fix his spelling mistakes, which there were quite a lot. It made me curious how this dude even managed to read his notes after class and study from them. I suppose he finds a way, he does get at least a D on his tests, all he needs really. His hand began to slowly trail down the paper and create a slanted line, he must’ve been starting to fall asleep since his head began to lower towards the desk too. I swear he would’ve been out like a light in the middle of class, if it hadn’t been for-

*Grrrooowrrll*

His head suddenly jerked up and his hand jolted forward, drawing another slanted line on his notes. His expression changed to a more worried look; five minutes till class is over. His stomach was on time as always, alarming him to have his midmorning snack soon. After his rude awakening, he began to scramble last minute notes in his notebook. I could tell his hunger was bothering him since he was aggressively scribbling notes down to help distract him from the sensation. I’m not sure why, but that day…

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” I whispered to him.

I was lying about knowing what was wrong with him, but he didn’t exactly know that. In fact, it must’ve triggered some kind of nervousness in him, because his cheeks suddenly flushed more red than they already were, and he stammered his answer.

“Wh-What? N-No, I’m okay, just tired…” he whispered back, a slight crack in his voice.

I may have made the mistake of talking to him, because afterwards he suddenly tensed up, his hand shook as he took down notes, and the other hand wrapped around his belly. His pupils were shrunk, staring intensely at the powerpoint, sweat beginning to bead down the side of his head. I never knew someone could be so embarrassed about their hunger, typically Addisons just laugh or brush it off. But it’s as if to him, I just broke the antisocial shield he had built around himself, and now he had all eyes and ears on him, despite the fact that I was the only one looking at him. Each minute that passed his stomach kept trying to alarm him to eat, and I could see him curling up quite hard to try and muffle the noise. However, it didn’t take long for five minutes to pass, the bell announcing the end of class began to run. He suddenly uncurled himself, looking up at the clock on the wall.

“That’s all for today’s lesson, be sure to review chapters 8-10 before class next week!” The professor instructed.

Most of the Addisons began to pack up and head for the door, others stuck around in their seats and pulled out their midmorning treat, of course, with trash to throw away. Spamton did the same as he quickly pulled his backpack up into his lap and frantically searched his back compartment. His teeth tensed and he took a sharp inhale, pulling out a familiar wrapper. Its familiarity struck my mind, and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the one of the egg salad sandwich packages I had placed in the student kiosk store days before! He quickly pulled one of the slices out of the packaging and wasted no time taking his first bite. My digital heart raced, curious and wondering what his reaction was going to be. Would he like them? Would he want to eat the whole thing? I thought I was going to start hyperventilating, I was so shocked that he actually bought one. It felt like forever waiting for his reaction…

. . .

His little pupils slowly lit up with life and sparkled, his mouth curled into a loving smile, and he let out a very soft and content “Mmmmm…” as his cheeks puffed from him chewing the sandwich. I had done it, not only was I able to recycle something that would’ve otherwise went to waste, but someone, especially “Sad Eyes”, actually enjoyed eating it! My mouth slowly fell open as I kept watching him eating my sandwich. He was savoring each little bite, tasting every inch of it, even going as far as to lick his lips when he got part of it around his mouth. Without my notice, another Addison approached the two of us.

“Hey, did you make that? It looks pretty good.” they asked “Sad Eyes”, pointing at the sandwich.

I suddenly snapped out of my tranced stare, and looked up at the Addison, they were quite the tall fellow, a nice golden yellow color, and hair pointed back. They seemed like a laid back Addison as their uniform was slightly untucked and their bowtie was undone. There was no doubt about it, something about my unique sandwich creation was intriguing to Addisons, and yet they don’t know why besides the taboo stigma. “Sad Eyes” perked up and gulped the mouthful quite loudly before answering.

“U-Uhhh… N-No, I didn’t make this, I bought it at the kiosk.” He replied.

“Oh, okay. What’s the name of it? I might give it a try.” They questioned.

“T-The name?... I don’t remember if it had a name…” he noted, looking at the wrapper for any kind of symbol or identification.

“Well that’s okay, I’m sure I’ll be able to find it when I check out the store later.” They shrugged, until they were suddenly interrupted by another Addison.

“Is that made of eggs!? You wanna eat THAT!? Don’t you know you’re gonna look like some kinda MONSTER eating that!?” they yelled two rows down.

It was a dark red colored Addison, a lot shorter than the tall golden Addison, but still much taller than “Sad Eyes”. I recognized him from my homec class, he was often the one to start trouble with the professors as he comes from a line of very rich and successful makeup marketing Addisons, so he thinks he’s hot shit. Nevertheless, it was clear the golden Addison wasn’t going to take that crap from him.

“Hey c’mon, don’t knock it till you try it.” The golden Addison defended and watched the red Addison strut away with disgust.

“Thanks for telling me where you got it.” They commented, picking up their backpack and slinging it over their shoulders as they left for the door.

“Sad Eyes” shrugged and went back to munching on the sandwich, finishing the first slice in just a matter of seconds. He picked up the second piece and decided to take out the pouch of homemade ketchup that was also in the packaging, squirting a bit of it on one of the corners. When he took the first bite of the second slice, he practically melted in his seat. The taste must’ve been euphoric for him as I saw his pupils almost roll to the back of his head, and he let out a louder “Mmmmm…” as he chewed. I couldn’t stop watching him, there was just something so precious about it. At this point, every other Addison had left the room, it was just us two and the professor, but neither of us had noticed, we were both fixated on the experience. Suddenly the professor took a ruler and cracked it on one of the nearby tables, scaring the absolute piss out of us out of our trance.

“HEY! You need to clear out, the next class is coming in 10 minutes!” the professor yelled.

I stood up and bowed my head.

“S-sorry sir, we were just heading out!” I apologized and packed my notes.

“Sad Eyes” quickly stuffed the remainder of his sandwich into his backpack water bottle pocket and hastily packed his notes as well. He stepped down from his chair and the two of us walked out of the room, a bit shaken up from being yelled at. I wasn’t sure why, but we both stayed on the same path for at least 8 minutes, at first not saying a word. It wasn’t much of a surprise given the fact that we’re both a bit socially anxious, but eventually he broke the ice and stopped dead in his tracks. I didn’t realize he had stalled and I kept walking.

“Were… Were you watching me eat?” he queried, looking far up since I towered him.

I stopped and paused, my fist clenching a bit. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Shit, he noticed. I wasn’t quite sure how to answer him. Do I lie? Do I tell him the truth? I don’t think he’d forgive me if I told him I made that sandwich… Why?...

. . .

The recipe is a bit hard for others to understand.

. . .

The longer I waited to answer him, the less he was going to believe me, so I had to give him an answer quickly. But which answer do I give him!?

“I WASN’T!” I responded with great projection.

I covered my mouth and my pupils shrunk, my cheeks burning red hot, I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was steam coming off of me. I looked back down at him, and his eyes were squinted, glaring deep into my eyes.

“Look, if you wanted to know where I got the sandwich, you just had to ask. I’m not good at picking up context cues.” he lectured, taking the sandwich out of his water bottle packet.

I lowered my hands from my mouth and slowly peeked over, watching him take a bite of the half eaten sandwich slice. He continued to walk along the path, licking his lips to clear the mess of a bite he took. He took another big bite not long after, I began to wonder if he had enough room to fit the rest of it. I mean, it was a pretty big sandwich, especially in his little hands. My heart fluttered a bit when he made quite a loud gulp, finishing the mouthful he had. It sounded as though he was beginning to struggle putting the rest down. He surprised me by tossing the rest of it into his mouth, chewing it for a bit, pausing for a moment… He was staring right at me, I quickly averted my gaze, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He turned away, another loud gulp, polishing off the rest of the egg sandwich.

“There wasn’t a name or brand on this sandwich, I can’t tell you who I bought it from, only that it was at the kiosk..” he explained.

It was at that point that the two of us heard a faint little rumble below his chest, followed by “Sad Eyes” covering his mouth with a fist to conceal a burp. He didn’t really try to muffle it though, I felt my eyebrows raise, suppose I didn’t expect him to forget any manners.

“Sorry, that snack was a bit filling.” he pardoned himself, wiping his sweater clean of any stray crumbs.

“O-Oh, it’s fine, I get it.” I replied back, trying not to blush again.

I was still in awe that not only he bought one of my sandwiches without knowing who made it, but even enjoyed it, AND finished the whole thing! At his size, I thought he was going to end up having to give up halfway through, but he seemed to have enough space in his stomach to fit the whole thing without needing to settle down. I guess when you have to work harder to get around, your body’s gonna want a lot to eat. Now, there was a bigger question looming over my head…

Would he buy another?

A business only works if there are returning customers, right? Hopefully he enjoyed the flavor and size enough to want to buy another, I don’t see why not based on what I’ve witnessed in the past 20 minutes. I won’t be able to tell until we have class again tomorrow.

“Hey, I gotta go, okay?” he told me as he turned toward the left fork of the walking path.

“Huh? O-Oh, sure. Have a good day, I guess…” I answered back, turning to the right fork.

He headed towards the auto shop garage, he must’ve had a class in mechanics. I had to make my way toward my environmental class, which was the building two blocks down from our business building. I soon cleared my head of everything that happened that day and pushed into my archives. It was time for me to get on with my day, and hopefully, look forward to seeing if my idea would be appreciated by more than just one…

- - -

(9:30) Business Tactics 103 Auditorium on Monday:

Everyone had already sat down by the time I got to class. I quickly got to my seat up in the farthest row before the professor walked in and he shut the door. As I unpacked my notebook and pen, I looked over to see “Sad Eyes” chair was empty, not even his backpack was there…

Oh no… Did that mean?

N-No, there’s no way my egg sandwich would’ve done that to him, right?... Surely he was just running late, not stuck in bed with a stomach ache, right!?... It has been 3 days, food poisoning doesn’t last that long, does it? I swear I could feel sweat beading down my neck from stress.

“Now then class, today we’re going to talk about how to negotiate business territory disputes; how to compromise who sells what when two Addisons sell similar products of interest. Who’d like to tell the class-'' the professor spoke, before suddenly being interrupted.

Everyone turned to the door being swung open, revealing “Sad Eyes” covered in sweat too and deeply out of breath.

“S-Sorry I-I’m l_late… My… a-alarm clock b-broke…” he panted.

“Mr. Spamton, you’re 5 minutes late to class. This’ll be your final unexcused absence for this semester, got it?” the professor explained.

“Y-Yes Mr. Wardly…” he nodded, slowly making his way up to the seat next to me.

The whole class gave him a scowling glare as he stepped up to the 8th row. He sat down in his seat with a sigh, his backpack slowly sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a loud thud. He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out his notebook and pencil, it was clear it was shoved in there without much care as a few of the pages were folded awkwardly. My god, “Sad Eyes” reeked of panic and for some reason, wet dog. I guess he was running too late to take a shower, or even brush his teeth for that matter. He must’ve run at least a few blocks just to get here, even with his short height, that’s quite a distance for any Addison to fully run; we’re not exactly athletes, unless you count the ones who love selling sports gear and equipment.

“As I was saying, today we are going to discuss territory negotiation; many of you will have similar product interests and thus, will be competing for prime real estate.” the professor continued, switching to the first slides of the lesson.

Urgh, I knew this lesson was going to suck, I’ve barely decided on what I want to sell besides those sandwiches. Nevertheless, I took down the notes as usual. I glanced over at “Sad Eyes” after ten minutes and could see that he had barely written down a thing, his eyes were deeply drooped, and his mouth hung slightly open. He didn’t look quite right, and that's saying something. But even on days that he didn’t get enough sleep, he wouldn’t ever be this shut down. It didn’t occur to me what was wrong with him until something in his behavior routine changed.

*Groowwrrlrll*

His eyes shot open like snapped window shades, and his mouth quickly shut, turning into a concerned frown. He had skipped breakfast; no wonder why he was acting so differently. I felt bad for him, I knew hunger was like mental torture to him, and now he has to face it for the whole class. His hunger must’ve echoed in the auditorium because a couple of the Addisons that sat near us glared up with irritation. I acted as blasé as I could, trying not to attract any attention to us, but poor “Sad Eyes” looked like he was about to start crying. However, it looked like he got some sort of idea, as he slowly bent over and rummaged through his bag quietly. I could see something glittering in one of the pockets, it appeared to be some kind of wrapper. He slowly pulled it out and it was revealed to be a protein bar. I had thought, ‘Oh good, he had a breakfast backup’, but he was running the risk of being caught. Our professor hated when students ate in his class, he believed it to be a “distraction”. I betcha it was because the professors were supposed to remain “professional” when teaching, and the traditional staff viewed eating as unprofessional. “Sad Eyes” began to open the wrapper, careful not to make any noise… That’s when it happened.

*Grrgglrll*

The sudden announcement of hunger in his body caused him to jolt and rip the wrapper open with a loud crackle. The professor immediately stared at him. He slammed his ruler down on the table. Oh shit, he looked pissed.

“Mr. Spamton, are you eating in my class!?” the professor yelled.

“U-Uh…” “Sad Eyes” stuttered.

Without hesitation, our professor began to storm up the steps with a trash can, and suddenly “Sad Eyes” began to shove the bar into his mouth, chewing aggressively. But it was too late. His cheeks were clamped tight by Mr. Wardly’s firm grip. He flinched as the professor’s grasp was sharp and painful. A little yelp escaped his mouth, along with the protein bar he was trying to sneak. The professor let go once he was satisfied all of it was dumped in the trash bin.

“Owww, that hurt…” he whimpered and rubbed his cheeks.

“No exceptions, Mr. Spamton! One more interruption and you’ll be suspended from my class for a week, are we clear?” he scolded.

“Sad Eyes” swallowed hard and nodded, still cringing from the pain in his cheeks.

“Good… Now, let’s get back to the lesson.” the professor announced, stepping down to the main floor, setting the trash can down and changing the powerpoint slide.

I looked over at “Sad Eyes” and he had his head down on the desk, buried in his crossed arms. I guess he had given up any chance of paying attention in class today, I don’t blame him, it’s hard to pay attention on an empty stomach. Not only that, but he was starting to become a class outcast as his hunger was causing other students to be distracted. Every couple of minutes his stomach rumbled, and alternating staredowns and shushes from nearby Addisons would soon follow. I guess the professor had noticed too, but decided to ignore him and continue with the class since he’d already paused twice to deal with “Sad Eyes” accordingly. It was so hard to watch him in this saddened state, I needed to do something without interrupting class. But, would he accept my help, or end up getting too flustered and end up getting suspended?...

Only one way to find out…

I slowly shuffled my seat over to him, and gently placed my hand on his back. At first he didn’t notice, until I then began to rub his back up and down. His head peered out above his crossed arms, his face was covered in tears. He looked up at me and softly sniffled, I closed my eyes and nodded, hoping he would pick up on my attempt to comfort him. I guess he got the message and laid his head down on his arms, taking some deep breaths and slowly relaxing. I continued to rub his back, switching to big circles and pressing deeper. His eyelids began to droop, slowly succumbing to the thoughtful gesture. This seemed to have also calmed his hunger as well since his belly had gone quiet for most of the lesson, he was still clearly uncomfortable from the empty sensation, but at least he was able to compose himself and avoid class suspension. I didn’t even care that I was missing out on writing notes from today’s lesson, I could easily ask someone for the notes, Addisons aren’t really known to gate-keep information unless they want to charge you for their “services”. Time flew by for me since I was so focused on comforting him, but I’m sure it felt like forever for him. Finally the bell for the end of the class had rung.

“That’s it for today’s lesson, make sure to read up on chapters 12-14 for this week’s quiz!” the professor announced.

“Sad Eyes” shot up from his moping position, and immediately snatched his bag, rummaging through it. I quickly pulled my hand back, satisfied he was feeling a bit better, and began to pack my notes, when I saw what he pulled out…

I couldn’t believe it.

Another one of my egg sandwiches! He ripped the packaging off and grabbed one of the slices, taking a deep bite, and slightly moaning in flavorful pleasure. His pupils rolled to the back of his head, and he leaned forward to make sure he didn’t drop any bits onto the floor. It must’ve been so relieving to finally eat something after having to go through the morning without any food. I leaned back in my seat and smirked, it felt really good to know that I helped him in his time of need, especially with something I helped save from being wasted. He soon finished his first slice and moved onto the next, taking his time with this one. As the students who stayed behind to eat a snack began to pack up to leave, more took notice of what “Sad Eyes” was eating. Four of them approached our desk, two curiously staring while the other two had grimaces on their faces.

“Hey, what’s that you’re eating?” The yellow one asked, pointing at the sandwich.

“That’s not eggs, is it?” The pink one butted in, their nose scrunched up.

“Eggs? From where?” The orange one questioned, tilting their head.

“Where’d you get it from?” The blue one curiously asked, peering over the other three.

“Sad Eyes” looked a bit overwhelmed, stammering a bit before answering them.

“I uh… got it from the kiosk. It’s actually pretty good.” he replied, taking another bite.

Suddenly the four of them turned to me and asked at the same time.

“Do YOU like them too?”

My face went frighteningly blank with fear and I gave them a hesitant nod, which seemed to have been enough for them to step back and talk amongst themselves. From their body language, I could tell that most of them were now debating their next move.

“Alright, now I gotta know what it’s like.” The orange one announced.

“Are you serious!? You’re gonna look like a crazy person!” The pink one interjected.

“Hey, you don’t know, man!” The yellow one countered.

“Wonder who made it…” The blue one wondered before following them outside.

I was in complete awe, I didn’t think “Sad Eyes” just eating my egg sandwiches would begin to spark such curiosity so quickly! Now in just two days, five different Addisons wanted to know where he got it, and maybe tomorrow they might give them a try! I quickly packed my notes back into my backpack and began to head for the door towards the student kiosk. I would need more ingredients and inventory if this was going to be the case. Part of me did want to stay and watch him finish his food, but I knew I would gain more suspicion if I was caught staring at him. I’m… still shy about revealing that I was the one who made them. When I arrived at the kiosk, I noticed there was a bit of a crowd surrounding my sandwich spot. I kept a low profile and put my hoodie up, hoping no one would approach me and come asking questions. As I grabbed what I needed, I couldn’t help but overhear some of the murmured conversations amongst everyone standing there.

“Who do you think made it?” some of them asked.

“Do you think it’ll actually taste good?” others wondered.

“Well it’s gotta be good if even that white Addison is eating them!” one piped in, it was the orange Addison from before.

“I dunno man, I mean… Eggs? Isn’t that kinda wrong?” a smaller green Addison pointed out.

“Fuck it, I’m getting one.” a rather large purple Addison huffed, grabbing one sandwich.

Suddenly the crowd lost their minds with a few of them gagging and the other half going “ooooo”, while some gave the Addison a pat on the back for being their guinea pig. I watched as the purple one purchased the sandwich and opened up the wrapper, taking a rather large bite while the others stood around them and stared with longing. After a couple chews, the purple Addison turned to everyone and gave them a nod, which sent them into an even bigger frenzy. To my surprise, three more of them grabbed a sandwich and stood in line to purchase them! Had I truly done it? Had I just changed the stigma of our people?... it was still only a small group, and those outside of our school had no idea this change of perspective was going on. I had a long way to go to change the minds of everyone around me. I stood in line and waited my turn, and each Addison that bought a sandwich quickly opened them up and had a taste. Some left before I could hear what their thoughts about them were, but the ones I could hear definitely seemed excited about its taste. If I was going to do this, I needed to make sure I kept up with the demand, so I decided to go ahead and purchase double what I bought last time. Once everything was paid for, I headed back to my dorm and got to work, making sure to follow the ratio of ingredients exactly. There was a bit of a problem, I was on the last of the eggs, I would need more if I needed to make more batches…

But that wouldn’t be a problem…

I know exactly where to get more…

- - -

(10:45) Business Tactics 103 Auditorium on Thursday:

“Now class, let’s go over the summary of what we learned today about balancing costs and profits.” our professor lectured, switching to the next powerpoint.

Word had got around about the egg sandwiches, and it seemed like a fourth of the class had bought one today. I was so excited to see all my hard work pay off, and watch as that trash barrel be barely halfway filled. It was so hard to stay still in my seat, I was so tempted to get up and dance a jig, but I knew I’d both look like a fool, and probably be suspended by our professor. As I finished up the notes I needed for that day, I glanced over at “Sad Eyes” to see what he was up to in terms of his mood today. To my surprise, he had quite a bit of notes written down, he was even on his second page. In the months that we’ve sat together in class, I had never seen him make two pages of notes, but there it was. Perhaps he was just impatient and really looking forward to his midmorning snack, which resulted in his attention span increasing. All I could do was wait for his signal that class was almost over…

. . .

“What are you doin’?” “Sad Eyes” asked me with eyes squinted in suspicion.

Oh fuck. He noticed I was staring at him. What should I do?

“U-Uh, I- Y-you got a pencil I can borrow?” I stammered.

“You… have one, in your hand?” he pointed out.

Dammit. I could already feel my face beginning to burn hot with embarrassment. I had to think of something else.

“A-Actually uh, w-what time is it?” I questioned, barely even able to squeak out the words.

“Time? Uhh… it’s-”

*Grroowwrrlrll*

Five minutes left, on time like always. Oof, “Sad Eyes” didn’t look so good now. He stuttered his words as he told me it was 10:55, his hands shakily balled into fists, his teeth slowly clamped together, his shoulders hunched, and his eyes strained to stay open. His cheeks, usually rosy to begin with, flushed a deep hot red as sweat began to trickle down the side of his head. As much as I wanted to offer him some words of empathy, I felt my voice shut down, and I had no choice but to turn back and face the front of the class, leaving “Sad Eyes” to deal with his inner demons on his own. I made sure I wasn’t turned towards the front enough to where I couldn’t glance over at him, but enough to where it didn’t look like I was spying on him. I watched as he jolted back to facing forward, and scribbling down notes aggressively. His pupils had shrunk to tiny dots, and his legs were curled up under his chair towards his body. Yeesh, he looked like he had been thrown off a building. He was that tense. I struggled to keep my eyes off of him, but there was such a drive in me to want to just scoop him up and cuddle him until-

Wait… What am I thinking? Without realizing it at first, the bell had rung for the end of class.

“That’s it for today’s lesson, don’t forget we have our big quiz tomorrow, and I expect you all to be prepared!” our professor announced.

“Sad Eyes” quickly broke from his concentration and began to rummage through his bag, pulling out that familiar package. Suddenly I began to hear not just him opening up his sandwich, but others as well. There were three, no, five, no!... there were a dozen other students with the same egg sandwich as him! One at a time, they took their first bite, and there was a chorus of delicious smiles, chubby cheeks, and plenty of soft “mmmm”s from each and every one of them! I felt my little digital heart flutter with pure joy and pride, watching every Addison happily munch at something I created to not only nourish them, but to help our city from the wrath of pollution. As I began to pack up my things, I noticed the four Addisons that approached us the other day had stayed behind in class… TO EAT MY EGG SANDWICHES!?

“C’mon Click, take a bite, it’s good!” the yellow one teased, pushing a slice near the pink one’s mouth.

“Stop it Vid, I’m not eating it!” Click yelled, smacking Vid’s hand away.

“It’s better than you thought, right Banner?” the orange one asked the blue one.

“Definitely, Survey. You’re really missing out, Click.” Banner smirked, taking another bite.

“ALRIGHT! Alright, fine! I’ll try a bite just to shut you three up!” Click agreed, snatching the slice from the yellow one’s hand.

The five of us all watched with awe as Click reluctantly took a bite of the sandwich slice. He slowly took a few cautious chews before swallowing, his face crumpled with embarrassment.

“HA! Admit it, you like it, Click!” Vid shouted, pointing a finger in Click’s face.

“Okay okay, it tastes fine! Are you happy now!?” Click roared with humiliated rage as he stormed toward the exit.

“HEY, WAIT FOR US!” Vid yelled, grabbing his supplies in a hurry and running after him.

The other two Addisons calmly packed their stuff before following the two to the exit. I looked over at “Sad Eyes” to see if he had finished his snack, and he was on his last piece. God, his little chubby cheeks were so charming. I finished packing my supplies as well and sat back down next to him, giving him a bit of a smug grin.

“You’ve sure taken a shine to those egg sandwiches.” I told him.

“Heh heh, yeah, they’re just so good and so convenient! Plus it’s a big portion for the price, you get a good deal out of them.” he replied, shrugging.

“Seems like everyone else in the class noticed their value too, it’s a hit.” I chuckled, putting my backpack on. “C’mon, we should head out now.”

“Alright, I’ll walk with you.” he agreed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing the rest of his snack.

The two of us headed for the door and outside to the rest of the campus. Falling leaves of multiple colors scattered at our feet. it was getting colder, winter must be close now, especially if our finals were approaching. It felt good to know that the two of us were just one exam away from our last year on campus. I looked over at “Sad Eyes” and he was just about finishing his snack, giving a fuzzy staticed hiccup. The two of us laughed as we headed back to our dorms, saying goodbye to each other before parting ways. We didn’t realize it at the time, but this became our own little routine for the rest of our time together in academy; go to class, watch “Sad Eyes” eat his snack, watch as more and more of the class switching to my egg sandwiches without knowing who made them, and us walking down the paths together. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into the next year of our training. Sadly the two of us were never paired up in the same class again, but I could still see him walking down the road towards the mechanics, he must’ve wanted to pursue that as his chosen career. Meanwhile I had begun to attend some environmental courses to better learn how to utilize every material around me to my advantage, and turn our pollution problem around. It was not the most praising course to be taking, but I took pride in the path I chose. Though, it was nice to see that “Sad Eyes”’s influence with my sandwiches didn’t fade after the next year began, some of the Addisons in my classes were eating them for breakfast or snack. And of course, I always saw him with one, munching away on his way towards his dorm. Once the sales of the sandwiches leveled out to a reasonable estimation of quantity, I was able to better focus on my studies, I surely wasn’t going to be able to pursue my dreams if my grades were slacking. I guess you don’t really know how fast time passes when you’re working hard, because before I knew it…

- - -

Graduation Day.

Man, it felt good to finally be free of all those boring lessons. I’m sure “Sad Eyes” was also relieved to be away from some of those shitty professors, and could now pursue his career just like everyone else in our class. With my cap on my head, the tassel was turned, and I stood up to shake the hand of the dean and receive my diploma. A few moments later, “Sad Eyes” stepped onto the stage, and did the same, it was kinda cute getting to witness the dean kneeling down to even shake his hand at his height. There were faint murmurs of backtalk in the crowd of Addisons as he walked on stage. They talked behind his back when he arrived at the academy, and talked behind his back as he graduated, typical. Once the ceremony was over, all of us marched out of the auditorium with smiles and pride. As much as I wanted to stay behind and congratulate him myself, I had no time to waste. The minute after the ceremony, I had set up an appointment to meet up with an Addison that specializes in leasing building spaces. There was a certain space that I found in the paper that I just HAD to have to start my little recycling studio in! With my diploma in hand, I rushed down the streets of Cyber City and past all the traffic to the vacant building, where he was waiting for me, suit, tie and all. I probably looked like a fool running up to him in my cap and gown, but I had no time to change into my street clothes, or even something a bit more formal.

“Hey there Phoenix, glad you could make it on such short notice! I’m Seamus, nice to meet you.” Seamus greeted with a handshake.

“Hey Seamus, thanks for agreeing to meet with me, I was really hoping to put an offer down for the place as soon as I could see it with my own eyes.” I replied.

“Oh definitely! Are you familiar with the building’s features? Lemme show you around.” Seamus insisted, leading me inside.

My pupils grew wide as I scanned the area with much giddiness. It was everything I had hoped for and more, so much space to work in, so many lights to brighten the place up, and tons of storage room to organize my findings! It even had a little bar I could sell my sandwiches from! The place just screamed perfection, there was no doubt about it, I had to have it!

“So, what do you think? Wanna place an off-” Seamus asked before I had cut him off.

“I’ll take it!” I shouted, throwing a stack of dark dollars I had in my pocket.

“Heh heh heh, excellent. I’ll prepare the paperwork…” Seamus chuckled, slowly putting my money into his suit coat.

As much as I was aware of how quick Seamus was to ask an offer from me, I still had fallen for the oldest Addison trick in the book; sell with confidence. And that was it, I was now the proud renter of this building. God, I wanted to get to work so fast, I don’t care if I have to sleep in here to do so!  During the next hour, I was rushing back and forth from my workshop to my dorm, grabbing all my belongings, and tossing them into one of the storage closets. Since I’m no longer a student at the academy, my stuff has to leave the dorm, and I am too lazy and excited to drive it back to my apartment. If I needed to sleep in my new closet in order to get my studio ready for business as soon as possible, then so be it! Soon all my belongings were in my new studio, and it was time to begin shaping my career!

This place needs a fun paint job, maybe some pink over there, and a tie dye turquoise wall over there, and I definitely need some string lights around the bar! I need some furniture too, maybe a couch over there, and some high stools by the windows so people can look outside and sit, and-

Wait… Where am I gonna get all the stuff?

I had to pause and consider where I was really going to start, I had just spent all the money I made from selling those sandwiches to get this place, and I’m back to square one in terms of ideas. I can’t afford any furniture or paint!...

Or can I?

My recycling intuition was kicking in. What was I thinking? I got a degree specializing in repurposing, use your creativity! Yeah, screw BUYING new furniture, I’ll make it myself! Where would be the best place for materials? Aha! Of course, the academy dumpster! All the rich family Addisons always threw out the belongings they didn’t want to commute home with them, there’s bound to be tons of good stuff for me to use! Locking up my studio, I ran back to the academy and wasted no time getting my hands dirty. Luckily when students are moving into dorms, they provide carts to help move larger possessions, so I took advantage of one and used it to tote everything I found in the bins. There was everything you could imagine; old lamps, chairs, pretty carpets, tons of string lights, paper decorations, cans of old paint, and even pallets of wood I could use to craft the furniture with! The upholstery on the chairs I could use to make the couches comfy, and really add some pop and color to my studio. With my new inventory, I rolled everything back to my studio, making sure no one caught me borrowing one of the carts. That whole night, I got to work assembling my new accents, painting the walls to my liking, and setting up the fridges and kitchen. In just a couple days, my place was sparkling gorgeous, filled with products to sell, and ready for business! Once I finished up the tiny details and gave the place a good sweep, I flipped the open sign for the first time, and waited for the crowds to come flooding in…

And waited…

And waited…

. . .

Hrmm, maybe I should do some advertising.

- - -

“Phoenix’s Recycled Fashion and Furniture: The Only Place In Town That’s Honest About Selling You Pure Garbage!... No, that sucks, why would I tell them the stuff’s made of garbage before they even buy it?” I mumbled to myself, tossing another crumpled paper into the recycle bin.

It has been a few days since I first opened my new shop, and so far there hasn’t been a single customer. Perhaps it was because on the inside it looked like a fun place to peruse and partake, but on the outside, it just looked like some shitty warehouse that a drifter was sleeping in! I spent so much time making the inside and my products spiffy, but took no time to plan out where I was going to start roping in customers. How do other Addisons get their products in the public’s faces; billboards? Can’t afford one of those. Posters? I think I need a permit before putting those out. Free samples? I don’t exactly have furniture that can be given away like- wait. Free samples of my sandwiches, of course! Addisons love free food, well, mainly anything free for that matter, but especially food since that means they don’t have to eat or spend the money they earned to eat that day. I rushed over to my shop’s bar and pulled out a few of the sandwiches from the fridge, cutting them into little finger sammies. After arranging them nicely on a plate, I put on a cute little apron and stepped outside, holding the tray out for anyone that passed by to see. It didn’t take longer than 2 minutes for one Addison to grow curious enough to approach.

“Hey, what you got there?” they asked.

“These are my special sandwiches, care for a taste? They’re also on sale in a larger portion!” I explained to them, holding the tray closer to them.

“Ehh, why not? It’s free.” they shrugged, and took one piece off the tray and popped it into their mouth.

About two chews in, I could see their pupils dilate and their mouth sides curl up. It looked as though they had just tasted a bite of heaven.

“Whoa, you made these yourself?” they questioned, their face beaming with excitement.

“You bet! Only $4.99 for the whole thing!” I smiled, waving my hand toward my building’s door.

“Alright, I’ll take one!” they said, holding out five dark dollars and stepping inside.

I led them in and took out a whole sandwich from the fridge, handing it to them in exchange for the cash. My first ever sale! Once they received their food, they also began to look around at the furniture with such wide eyes and genuine interest. Other Addisons outside started to peer into my windows, wondering what the first Addison was doing in there. Slowly they entered one at a time, taking a good look at my products. Who knew the power of free stuff could drive in so many customers? By the end of that hour, more than half of them decided to purchase something, whether it be a sandwich, or one of the chairs I reupholstered the other day, I had made over $50. I couldn’t believe I had made this much money without spending a dime on any of the materials! Well, I guess I did have to buy the condiments for the sandwiches, and the electricity for the building, and the plumbing… but you get the idea. If I was going to keep up these sales, I would need some higher quality items. It was time to diversify my inventory!

- - -

And with that, we get to the point in the story where we are now… I had spent a few months making new kinds of sandwiches and finding higher end furniture and jewelry to restore. However, I got into a bit of trouble going through the Queen’s bins looking for some broken royal furniture, she recently had an eviction and I was hoping to find some of what they might have thrown out. I didn’t get so lucky, and was caught by the Swatchlings. Heh, word got around that I was dumpster diving, and now business has been a bit slower. Y’know, sometimes I do wonder what happened to “Sad Eyes”, I heard rumors that he wasn’t doing so hot either. I wish I could see him just one more-

*knock knock*

I turned my head toward the source of the knocking, and who do I see?... It was “Sad Eyes”! I was in shock, how did he know where to find me!? There’s no way I could be dreaming this, right!? I stepped over to my door and slowly opened it.

“...Spamton? Is… that you?” I confronted him.

Good lord, he looked like shit. Observing him from top to bottom, his hair was heavily dyed back and very greasy, with little bits of wrappers sticking out. He was wearing fogged up pink and yellow glasses, his eyes behind them just as sunken and dark as I remember. His cheeks were bony, yet still faintly rosy. His white sweater was stained with what I could only describe as dumpster juices, and his black coat had several popped seams, exposing his sweater's long sleeves through the holes. His body was rather thin underneath the puffy clothing, and his legs seemed to be struggling to hold himself up. He was also missing some pants, I wasn’t sure where he lost them, but it was clear they were missing for a long time, his legs were covered in filth. It was such a sad sight to see my old friend in. After a moment, he finally spoke.

“HEY THERE [loyal customer], FANCY [I see you] IN THESE [parts and services]!” he answered.

I gasped, kneeling down to his level.

“Spamton, wh-what happened to your voice? And… where have you been? You look terrible…” I asked.

He laughed maniacally, it took me aback a bit.

“I USED TO BE THE [talk of the town] THE [ultimate life form] UNTIL I WAS CUT FROM MY [Life Alert: Call Now!] AND KICKED OUT OF THE [Queen’s Gambit]! THEY THREW ME IN THE [lava] AS MY [life sentence] AND MY [$99.99 speaker] HAS BEEN [broke] EVER SINCE!” he replied.

“Oh my god, YOU were the one that was evicted? That’s awful… Do you have a new place to stay?” I wondered.

“MY [home sweet home] IS OVER BY THE [trash zone], IT’S NOT SO BAD ONCE YOU GET OVER THE [hopelessness]!” he smiled unnaturally.

“You’re staying in the trash? Spamton, that’s not good for you, you need to get back on your feet… But, I can’t afford to help you find a new home, I’m only making enough to support myself…” I told him with worry.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY [inventory] TO [nom nom]?” he requested, his arms stretched towards me.

“What did you say? It’s a bit hard to understand you.” I implored him, holding his face in my hands.

*Grrrggrrlll*

“Sad Eyes” looked down at his noisy belly and I checked my watch.10:55, hmph, just like old times, his stomach always knew when to signal him at the exact same time everyday. It should’ve occurred to me earlier that if he was living in the garbage, he wasn’t going to be eating regularly and therefore might be starving enough to look for free samples from stores around him. Just like years ago, his expression changed to a more worried look and his shoulders tensed. His glasses even took on a greyer and fuzzier appearance. He looked a lot more miserable about his hunger in this condition. But to my surprise, he quickly jerked his head back up and disturbingly smiled wide.

“SORRY FOR THAT [surround sound] I HAVEN’T [wined and dined] IN [9999999] DAYS! YOUR [homemade storefront site] CLAIMS TO HAVE [$3.99 lunchables] TO SELL. I’VE COME TO [brand new offer] YOU SOME [fabulous products] IN EXCHANGE FOR ONE [Chicken Little] SANDWICH!” he explained, rubbing his belly with one hand and reaching into his pocket and pulling out an old battery with the other hand.

I stared at the battery in his hand, god he looked pathetic trying to swindle me with literal garbage. Still, there was something slightly charming about it, he sure had some guts trying to make the trade a reality. I shook my head and chuckled.

“Spamton, y-you don’t need to offer me any… “products”, if you needed something to eat, you should’ve told me right away.” I told him, slowly taking the battery out of his hand and putting it on the counter.

I’ll have to remember to slip that battery back into his pocket…

I stood up and ran over to my storage fridge, and grabbed a tray of my premade egg sandwiches. When I turned around, I didn’t realize he had followed me over, and he immediately grabbed the sandwich off the tray and without even removing the wrapper, took a large bite out of it. I was a bit startled, his mouth looked like a snake unhinging its jaw to eat something way too big for him. In fact, other parts of his body looked like it was moving with hinges, bolts, and springs. There was something about him that no longer looked natural, almost like he was made of some sort of clothing material. It didn’t take me long to see that he had completely transformed from a corporeal Addison to some kind of puppet, complete with plushy fingers and stubs for feet. If he was hungry, then he must still be still intact like a normal Addison on the inside, I doubt puppets would need to eat if he had completely changed. He sat down against the bar to enjoy his sandwich, and I slowly slid down to sit next to him. My digital heart felt achy seeing him in such a sorry state.

“Jeez, you must’ve been starving… You can have as many as you need, I know you used to have quite the appetite back in the academy.” I told him, watching him finish the first slice with a chomp.

“THANKS FOR YOUR [generosity], I’LL MAKE SURE TO [stock up] FOR THE [impending doom] THAT IS [winter sale: buy now!]” he stuttered, grabbing another sandwich from the tray.

Something felt… Off. Very off. Normally it made my body tingle with joy to observe him eating my sandwiches, but today it didn’t feel quite right. I didn’t feel any vicarious pleasure, I felt majorly uncomfortable. Maybe it was just seeing him eat in such desperation, or maybe it was just hard to see him in this bodily condition. But in the back of my mind, I knew what was truly bothering me.

I had never told him the truth about what he was eating.

. . .

I think it’s time to tell him.

. . .

“Spamton, listen… There's something I need to tell you about those sandwiches you’ve been eating.” I mumbled, finding it difficult to confront him directly.

“HAHEAHEAHEAHA! WHAT DID YOU WANT TO [confess thy sins] about YOUR [protein packed snack]?” he asked, his head jerking to face me with an unnerving smile.

I took a deep breath.

“Spamton… the eggs in these sandwiches…” I hesitated.

“YES [Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney]?”

. . .

“Are from me.” I confessed.

. . .

“Sad Eyes”’s glasses slowly went grey and fuzzy again, and his head slowly looked toward the half eaten sandwich he was holding. Oh god, is he gonna be furious at me? Should I have buried the secret in my grave? Is he gonna get sick? Maybe I should apologize to-

“YOU MADE THESE [$4.99 easter eggs] YOURSELF?” he questioned, turning his head quickly to look at my eyes directly.

“U-Uh, y-yeah… Listen, I’m sorry that I never told you about-” I started, but I was cut off.

“THAT’S REALLY [cooldown commence], I WISH I COULD DO THAT WITH MY [PiPiS], BUT THEY’RE [danger: flammable]! IT WOULD’VE CERTAINLY [help wanted] WITH MY [act fast]!” he praised, smiling widely and taking another bite.

“What!? Y-You’re not mad they eggs are from me?” I asked, completely gobsmacked.

“NO. IN FACT, I WOULDN’T MIND [another one], ESPECIALLY KNOWING NOW THEY’RE [locally grown] AND [health facts]!”

“B-But, even with our society’s taboo against it… You don’t care how you’ll look eating it?”

“NO.”

Wow. Even after all the years of judgment he got as an Addison who defied societal expectations and was abandoned by the world and left to rot in the garbage, he still doesn’t care about what others think of him, even if it means… staying in the garbage forever… Man, his self esteem puts my self doubts about my business to shame.

“...I could really learn a thing or two about confidence from you, Spamton. You were a blue moon Addison, and yet walked your own path despite the pressure…”

I shifted a bit closer to him.

“Y’know, I don’t have enough to offer you a place to stay, but I could certainly use a hand around the shop if you need some work. I’d be willing to offer you free meals everyday and half of the tip jar as payment. Maybe overtime you could even earn enough to get back on your feet, what do you say?” I offered him.

“A [once in a lifetime opportunity]!? HOW COULD I [terminate] THAT OFFER!? YOU’VE GOT A [deal or no deal]!” he shouted, holding his hand out for a handshake.

I smiled and took his hand, he wasted no time taking his other hand and shaking my hand with both of his quite aggressively.

“Heh heh heh, glad to hear! Now, we should probably get you washed up before you start. I don’t exactly want you handling anything edible without being at least squeaky clean. I'm sure you’re looking forward to a nice warm shower and new clothes. Lemme check my storage shed and see if I have anything in your size.” I announced, heading towards the back of my boutique.

“[Hochi Mama]! [free samples], A [brand new] WARDROBE. AND A [promotion]!? THIS IS MY [Lucky Lottery] DAY!” he squealed, skipping behind me.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘You gave a job to someone you barely knew from college and might rob you blind when you turn your back for one second and make off with your entire life savings!?’

Yes. Yes I did. Because he was, and still is, my best egg sandwich customer.

Now, would you care for an egg sandwich?

[womanofwords]

The Offer Of A Lifetime (Part 4)

Previously

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Synopsis: SC is on the run from Hero, but it doesn’t last long. After all, a hero always gets what they want.

SC flew for their life. Hero was crazy, he was determined, and he was at their workplace. How did he even find out where they worked? Taking a break, SC sat on the roof of a skyscraper, gasping for air.

This is awful, SC thought. I don’t want my coworkers to see this. I just want my life to go back to normal. I want Hero to go. SC felt a tap on their shoulder, interrupting their panicked thoughts.

“SC, you don’t need to do this,” Hero explained. “Don’t be frightened of me; I’m here to help!”

HOW DID HE FIND THEM?!?!

“Leave me alone! I don’t want you talking to me!” SC shrieked.

“I won’t hurt you! I’m just looking out for you!” Hero yelled. “You have a lot of potential, you know. I just want to make sure it’s not wasted.”

“You’re crazy, you know that! You stalked me to my work, you ambushed me when I was making my way home, you tried to find my boss to convince him to give me to you!”

“I did this for your own good!” Hero snapped, as SC rocked back and forth while hugging their knees. “You are being wasted at this cruel firehouse!”

“No! They’re so nice to me! They helped me escape from you! I got a heads up and I escaped so I wouldn’t have to talk to you!”

“And I know things about you and your life that even you don’t know! Like how strange people send you strange packages!”

“That can be explained, too! They’re my neighbours. They bring me snacks. I really ought to pay them back sometime, but I just keep forgetting.” SC smiled for just a second before remembering the situation.

“They can’t be trusted. God knows what they put in there,” Hero snarled. “You’re clearly in danger. Just come with us.” Hero dragged SC away by their wrist as they struggled to get away from him.

“I don’t want to do this! Get away from me!” SC cried. Hero smacked SC round the face.

“Listen to me, you numbskull! I am Hero, and you are another person that I need to save, and I am saving you in a way that anyone would want to be saved! We’ve got drooling, crazed fans of us camping outside begging for an internship with us! Now stop being such a pathetic little weakling and come with me!” Hero roared. SC tried to focus on things that weren’t Hero. How cold it was, how high up they were, the drone with the red light that was staring at them. . .

Drone?

SC looked at the drone with a rising sense of horror. Hero looked at it and his grip on SC’s wrist grew limp.

“Is that yours?” SC asked.

“No,” Hero replied, his heart sinking. “That drone belongs to a news crew. And that red light means it’s recording.”

After this

Part 5

Part 6

[stolencrownsofplenty]

Anonymous | Accepting

1 2 and 3 for the shipping questions!

1) what’s the best thing about shipping for you?

((Either be it platonic or romantic? The best I like to get out of shipping is seeing how another muse can bring the worst and good out of the opposing muse. Dynamics can range all over the place and can even drag out little bits of a character to see how they can test against another person that either brings out the softest care out of them or make them want to strangle another muse for annoying them so bad; and sometimes you can get something you might've least expect from your own muse given they will like to go off script occasionally.

But another thing, ooc wise? I do think the best thing about shipping is it can be a good topic to bounce off of with rp partners to help you both bond a bit over your characters shared experiences. Its a good ice breaker and I often like to talk to folks to help build our muses relationship for the better. Having a bond with the mun of said character can help things flow more easier if y'all are wanting to do stuff with your babies too.))

2) what’s the worst thing about shipping for you?

((In general fandom wise? The worst you can really get out of shipping is having a ship being forced down your throat, but at best you can block tags online and ignore it mostly since it is still just a little thing to get upset over. But in general in a RP space? It's not totally the worst, but still a little damper on ones mood sometimes, having a ship fall through with someone you were planning to ship your characters after plotting stuff together for a good while. Sometimes it can happen, for some folks while they might try to give it a go but after a bit not feel it for a certain ships, and it is best to respect another person's boundaries if they say they don't want to ship a set of characters together anymore. Yeah, it does sting a little to hear that after all the investment you put into a certain ship, you get shot down with suggesting ideas for it after they tell you they aren't into it anymore. But hey, life moves on and these are still fictional characters after all.

Sometimes you guys might not click and that's okay. There's always bigger fish out there and it's better to move on and don't cause drama over the little things. Ya know?))

3) do you have a pet peeve when it comes to shipping?

((👏 MUNS 👏 NOT 👏 COMMUNICATING👏 ABOUT THEIR NEEDS 👏 AND NOT ASKING WHEN IT IS OKAY TO DO A CERTAIN THING OR GHOST YOU 👏 AFTER GOING COLD FISH WITH YOU!! I used to be as shy as a crab as the next guy, but it does grind my gears quite a bit when it's been used as an excuse in the past when a mun does not say what they want with you. Even in general, it is a nightmare to get a word out of people who I've dropped in the past not wanting to talk about things when I've given them enough chances to work stuff out or just plot ideas in general. It's a major turn off for me, when I have autism and have often had troubling learning when people are serious with me or not too, to talk to someone who shows little interest in what I have to say. I don't wanna always have to carry the conversation 99% of the time!! I wanna throw ideas at you and throw some back at me because I wanna engage with you and get a feel for what you may want in our muses potential relationship!!!

But it gets old real fast always having to reach out on my end when all I am trying to do is get a connection with you. I might be a lot sometimes, yeah, but that doesn't excuse you trying to make me try and mind read you from half across the globe. If I get the vibe you don't wanna interact with me that much 90% of the time (excluding folks who are slow! I know you lot are giving it your all! this one isn't about you I prommy <3), I will unfollow you and cut you off of my dash. We'd both waste our time if we played hard to get and I rather spend my time with folks who actually have an interest in what I make :) ))

[howtofightwrite]

Why don't you just stop responding to the sexists who think women can't fight men???

Three reasons.

One is a little self serving, so let's start with that: Those posts do really well.

I'm not kidding; slapping around MRAs consistently land among our more popular posts. This has certainly been true of our recent posts, but it's a long term factor as well. In fact, Women are not Weaker than Men is the blog's most popular post by a huge margin, (it has somewhere around 24k-25k notes.) (Ironically, our most popular at this moment is the Kim Possible post from a couple weeks ago.)

Second, and this might be surprising, but sometimes they meet our criteria. So, I've talked about this before, but when I'm looking in the inbox, I generally evaluate a question based on it's general applicability, educational value, and its potential for entertainment.

With general applicability, I'm asking myself if the answer will be useful to other people. If the answer to this is no, it's very rare that I'll answer that question. The most common questions that run afoul of this are hyper-specific scenarios, questions about very specific fantasy or alien physiology (if you sent us an ask about your six limbed, arboreal, aliens, I'm sorry, that question is probably not happening.) Even in cases like this, I'll sometimes try to find ways to see if I can offer an answer that will be more broadly useful. Sometimes, you'll see questions where I veer off onto a tangent, or try to drag a larger context out of something, and this would usually be why.

With educational value, I'm asking if I can explain something that most people don't know. This will sometimes override applicability. I'll admit that sometimes I'm a bit too harsh on point, especially if it's something we've covered in the past. I don't want to get into a situation where I'm answering the same topics repeatedly, because I don't want to waste your time, though, thinking about it critically, there's probably a few of these where the answer is old enough that most of our audience didn't catch them the first time. The recent hair whip and knives questions are examples where I reasoned that the previous posts were old enough that fresh answers would be useful again.

The entertainment factor is basically self-explanatory. I don't usually set out with the goal of writing jokes, but if I see the opportunity...

Now, with a lot of these MRA posts, there's some real potential for entertainment right off the top. These tend to be poorly considered arguments, and as a result, tend to be really easy to shoot down. That, in turn, means I've got a lot of room to be particularly snarky, or to ramp the interest in some of the background information.

Third, you need to hear this.

Okay, in this case, it might not be you, per se. However, you need to hear this. It is depressingly common to see authors, even women, buy into the MRA's bullshit. Far too many accept the, “women can't fight,” lie as their truth.

This yields shitty writing.

Far too many authors, when writing their female characters, say, “but mine is different, she can fight.” These authors produce weaker characters, because they take painful, artificial, steps to keep their character from offending these misogynists.

When you step back and say, “my character is a girl, and she can fight because she has superpowers,” you are doing a disservice to your readers. You're perpetuating that myth and reinforcing it. For a new generation of girls, you're telling them that they can't fight, because of a lie you took as fact.

There is a purpose to standing up and saying, “this is wrong,” and detailing the multitude of ways that it simply doesn't mesh with objective reality, but here's one reason you should take with you: Participation.

Make no mistake, the goal of those misogynists is to diminish you, to push you to the side, and squelch your voice. Remember when that anon wrote, “One punch could end your life.” That's not an argument about the ability for men or women to function in combat, that is intended to be threatening. Joke's on them, I'm a guy. But, never forget, the people forwarding these arguments want you to sit down, shut up, and wait meekly, while they decide your life for you. And they intend to enforce this with violence, or threats of same.

Do you know what determines an individual's capacity for violence?

Socialization.

As a society, we lie to girls. We tell them they cannot fight. We tell them they shouldn't fight, and if that was applied agnostic of sex, that would be one thing. However, while we are telling girls to submit, we are teaching boys to be more aggressive. To engage in violence. We teach them to fight, and accept it as a legitimate arbiter of disputes (on the playground.)

So, when you see one of these misogynists, what you're really seeing is one of those scared little boys on the preschool playground, who has no way to exert control over their environment except through violence. Their body got larger, but they never grew up.

As an adult, they understand that violence has consequences, so they start with threats, and then transition into force.

So, do you know what determines an individual's capacity for violence?

Because socialization isn't permanent. It shapes how you look at the world, but your socialization is something you can control. This is a power you have over yourself. If you live in a world where you are exclusively told that you cannot fight, that you cannot defend yourself, that you must meekly wait for someone else to take your autonomy from you, you will believe that. So long as the only voices you hear speak that lie, you cannot change.

The difference between being able to fight, or not, is training. It's your willingness to use that training on another human being, versus your opponent's ability to do the same. It doesn't matter if you are a man, or a woman. What matters is, do you know how to reduce your opponent into 200lbs of rapidly decaying meat, and are you willing to do it to protect yourself?

Here's another lie you don't hear countered very often: “strength matters.” Humans, as a general rule, use a fraction of our physical strength. This is true for both men and women. Your muscles are literally strong enough to tear your own body apart. Your brain (not your mind, but your brain) limits how hard you push yourself, specifically to protect you from your own body. One side effect of adrenaline is that it becomes very easy to accidentally hurt yourself because you will override your body's own limiters. In case it's unclear, what I'm saying here is that, when threatened, it is quite possible to temporarily give yourself superhuman strength. Now, it will hurt in the morning, and I may be biased, but I think abused muscles, and even broken bones, are far more appealing than being autopsied.

So, why do I continue to speak out against these misogynists? Because they're full of shit. They can't tell me what to do. They can't tell you what to do. The only power they have over you is what you surrender to them.

I'm telling you: You can fight. It's not easy. It's a skill like any other, and it requires training. Just like any other skill you can have excellent teachers or poor ones. But, you can fight.

Humans are a scary species, and when provoked we are a lot harder to kill, and a lot more dangerous, than we appear. If you think that our sexual dimorphism is significant enough to change that, it's not. It's not even close.

You can fight.

And those misogynists can go fuck themselves.

-Starke

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