#without it being awkwardly explained in depth

[jessiesjaded]

It is funny sometimes seeing people get uppity about translators not doing exactly 1:1 translations of media, whether it be a book or a game or a series- and I get it from the perspective of say, 90s and 2000s anime adaptations that completely altered plot points, completely nixed entire lines of dialogue or alter characters enough that they were barely reminiscent of the original- think Sailor Moon and how the US dub censored anything gay in it. Those complaints I understand, completely.

And then with the advent of translating tools sometimes a company has pretty clearly been cheap or lazy and has just slapped it into an online translator and hodge podged it together, losing a lot of important details along the way, just to save on paying a proper translator and that is something I find absolutely shitty and extremely fair to point out- especially when it's a big corporation.

But the flipside people seem to forget is that sometimes there's not an exact word to translate to. Sometimes translations done to T will lose the humour or the feeling of the original so the translator will change it just enough to still get the expression across in a similar way as the original without bogging it down or losing its charm- localising something isn't always a bad thing as long as it overall stays true to the original. Translation is an art at the end of the day, sometimes whats on the page needs a little extra help to really pop, I have a lot of respect for the people who put in the effort.

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT TWO: RIBS

pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader

summary: You showed up to the "get-together" Natalie invited you to. It was, apparently, more than just a "get-together".

wc: 5350

warnings: reader drinks alcohol, mentions of drug usage, lowkey reader getting a little obsessive

a/n: i have angst in my pants!

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - NATALIE'S INTERLUDE ONE

NEXT - ACT TWO: IF YOU'RE TOO SHY (LET ME KNOW)

You shouldn't be here.

You aren't sure how many times that thought has echoed inside your head since your mom dropped you off at your friend's house a few blocks away, and how many more times you've reiterated the same thought since you started walking toward the location of the party.

According to Google Maps (because Natalie sent the geographical coordinates to it, like a normal person would), it's on an empty lot in some abandoned industrial sector.

You can see and hear the party from a block away. Because… it is a party. It is not just a 'friendly get-together', or whatever Nat had said. It is a party. And you feel out of your depth by a long shot. Realistically, you could turn around and leave. It's not like anyone has seen you yet, and it's not like you even know anyone here besides Natalie.

…but then you would need to walk back to your friend's house. Call your mom. Ask her to come pick you up already. Explain why you…

Ugh.

You walk into the industrial lot, partygoers surrounding you on all sides, music blasting off of someone's phone that's hooked up to some dollar store Bluetooth speakers.

The entire place reeks of shitty beer, cigarette smoke, cotton candy vape, and weed.

Yep. This is a high school party. You're half expecting to find someone hooking up in a bush somewhere.

Someone probably is. You'd rather not think about that.

You hug the lot's edges, weaving through clusters of people you vaguely recognize from school. However, you swear you see more than a few people who graduated, which is kinda weird if you're being honest, but maybe that's just the 'high school party' experience.

As you continue to walk the lot, you feel more out of place than ever. The music is somehow too loud and cheap simultaneously, distorting with every bass drop. You’re clutching at your phone like a lifeline, scrolling mindlessly just to look busy.

And then you see her.

You aren't surprised to see her surrounded by people. Nat's leaning up against a support pillar, a cigarette pinched between her fingers, and a lazy grin on her face as she says something that makes her friends—faces you vaguely recognize—laugh.

When her gaze flashes over to you, you feel a brief flicker of hope that she's about to wave you over to her friends, introduce you, invite you into her circle…

Yet, all she does is give you a small nod of her head, a slight raise of her bottle, and before you can even think to wave back, she returns to the conversation she was having with her friends.

You aren't sure why her ignoring you hurts the way it does, but you feel a slight sting of pain in your chest all the same. Did she really just invite you just to ignore you? You try and tell yourself that you're just overthinking things—she’s probably just busy with her friends—but that nagging feeling doesn’t go away. 

You move yourself deeper into the lot, immersing yourself further into the party, hoping to avoid drawing attention to yourself by blending in with the crowds. A group of seniors—or maybe they've already graduated, it's hard to tell—pass by you, laughing loudly and overall being obnoxious, nearly drunkenly stumble into you. You sidestep them awkwardly, clutching your phone like you'd die without it as you attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

You find a busted folding table off to the side of the party, various different drinks, mixers, coolers, and cheap beers decorating its surface. You grab the least offensive-looking drink—a Pineapple Truly—and crack the can as you move to lean against a stack of wooden pallets, eyes searching the party for any sign of someone you know.

And, much to your unsurprise, you don't recognize anyone that you would actually know and would know you. The cool night air does little to ease the nerves twisting in your stomach, and you find yourself scanning the crowd for Natalie again. She’s nowhere to be seen.

Great.

The next time you manage to catch sight of Nat, she's walking right past you.

You're taking a sip of a (different) Pineapple Truly, trying to blend in and act like you aren't mentally freaking out. Leaning up against the pallets, you let your eyes scan the busy crowd. Occasionally, someone bumps into you or stumbles too close, and you shrink back further into the shadows.

Then, that person who stumbles too close ends up being Nat. Finally.

Natalie’s walking past you, her head turned to say something to someone trailing behind her. “Hey—” you start to call out, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look your way.

Oh.

You clear your throat and take a step back, hiding yourself further, and squeeze your can just tight enough to hear it crinkle under your grasp. It's not like you expected her just to drop everything and run over to you, but… something? Anything?

You sigh, down the rest of the drink in the can, and then toss it into a nearby trash bin. "Fuck me." You murmur to yourself as you cross your arms.

“Hey.” A voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to see a girl with a sunlit warmth to her skin and dark, wavy hair with a soft smile. You vaguely recognize her—she plays on the soccer team. You're pretty sure she comes from money; if her outfit is any indication. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Oh, uh…” You fumble for a response, shifting awkwardly. “Natalie invited me.”

The girl raises an eyebrow, her smile turning a little knowing. “And you’re just… hanging out here? Not with her?” She glances in Nat's general direction before turning back to you, "What's up with that?"

You shrug, unsure how to answer that without sounding pathetic. “Good question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” A sigh escapes your lips, and you wish you had another can of… well… anything, honestly, to drown out the noise in your head.

She laughs lightly, her gaze flicking back toward the crowd. “Don’t read too much into it. Nat’s… well, Nat. If she invited you, she wanted you here. That’s just how she is.”

"Doesn't mean it feels good." You murmur, kicking at a discarded cigarette butt on the ground below. 

A sympathetic smile graces her face, "She's a complicated person," a beat, "try not to overthink it." The way she adds the last part makes it sound like she knows something you don't, and honestly? She probably does.

"Easier said than done." You sigh and glance out over the crowd with her, "I don't know, I guess I was just…" You stop yourself, realising that talking to a total stranger about this probably isn't the best idea. "Uh… any advice?" 

"On dealing with Natalie?" She laughs humourlessly, and you get the sense she wants to say something really sarcastic, but when she sees the look in your eyes, she pauses and sighs. "Just… take your time. She's complicated. And there really isn't advice I can give you. Just…take most things she says with a grain of salt." A beat, "You'll know what I mean when it happens."

"When it happens?" You shake your head, slightly confused, "What does that mean?"

The girl shrugs, opens her mouth, then turns her head in the direction of someone yelling, "Lottie!" And… she's off without giving you an answer to your question.

What the fuck did you get yourself into here?

Another twenty minutes of passive-aggressive house music and shitty alcoholic beverages pass before you finally see Nat again.

She's standing in front of a steel drum fire with some lanky goth kid and this dorky-looking guy with curly hair, staring into the fire with a blank expression on her face.

Which is slightly concerning, but that's an issue to deal with at a later date and time. 

But, hey. Might as well approach.

You run off to one of the tables and quickly grab a beer for her and another Truly for yourself before darting back out in her direction, and—

God-fucking-dammit.

You swear this girl must be a fucking poltergeist or something with how she just fades in and out of crowds. It could be considered an art, really.

You grumble under your breath in frustration, downing both the beer (which you don't really enjoy the flavour of, but whatever) and the Truly within seconds of each other before tossing both containers into a nearby trashcan.

You aren't gonna sit around for the rest of the party, waiting to talk to the one person that you actually know here.

Grabbing one more Truly for the road, you decide to leave.

When you hear it, you're halfway across the lot, clusters of people slowly thinning out to nothing.

"PRINCESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" A loud, drunken voice slurs out, "WHERE YA' GOIN'?"

The exaggerated drawl and familiar pet name stop you in your tracks, jaw and fists immediately clenching in frustration. You really should just keep walking. Stand your ground. Prove you're angry! She spent the past two(ish) hours avoiding you! You're mad!

Which is exactly why you turn around to face the voice.

Against your better judgment, you glance over your shoulder, and there she is—Natalie Scatorccio, looking far too pleased with herself as she jogs over to you, the ends of her bleach-blonde hair catching the dim glow of the fire behind her.

"Home." You reply flatly, crossing your arms in a subconscious act of putting up walls. "Thought I'd leave since the person that invited me didn't seem to care too much if I was here or not." The words come out petulant, and you honestly sound like a middle school girl who just found out her friends had a sleepover and didn't invite her, but whatever.

"Wait, what?" Nat shakes her head, seemingly sobering up at the mention of you leaving. "Wh— s-seriously?" A nervous laugh escapes her as she steps forward, "But… wait… hold on." Another nervous laugh, "We haven't even talked—"

"You've barely even acknowledged me all night, Nat." You cut her off with a murmur, crossing your arms defensively, "Like… you walked right past me earlier! What am I supposed to assume?"

The blonde opens and closes her mouth for a moment, brain apparently lagging a little as she tries to come up with a response, "I… I was just…" She runs a hand over her face, "Fuck."

When her hand drops, you see exactly why her response time is so slow. It's not that you know what she's taken, but based on the way her pupils are dilated and how spaced out she seems, it's glaringly apparent she's done more than just drink while she's been here.

"Princess." She sighs, "Look. I wasn't… I wasn't doing it on purpose, okay? I've just…" A groan, "I've been busy all night, is all."

"Seriously?" You murmur back, "That's it? That's the best you can come up with? That you were busy?"

"Well—!" She throws her hands in the air in frustration, although she looks more upset at herself than you. "Whatever. Look… just… whatever. I was leaving, anyway. I'll come along with you."

"No." You say, shaking your head, "I don't need to babysit you on my walk back."

"Babysit?" Nat scoffs, "I'm fucking capable of taking care of myself."

"Are you?" You don't have much experience with drugs, but you get the gist of what it means to be under the influence. "Because it took you a solid ten seconds to figure out a response to me calling out the way you acted tonight."

She can't dispute that, it seems. 

You huff and turn around, "Whatever, Natalie."

"No, w-wait, hey—!" The sound of someone stumbling over their own feet from behind you, "I… look…" She falls into step beside you, "Come on. Let me make it up to you." Her words are slightly slurred, and her gait growing more unsteady with each step.

"No." You reply flatly, still walking away as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Dude." Nat groans, continuing to walk beside you. "Please? I don't… fuck. I feel bad. Please."

Despite yourself, you slow down slightly. "And what exactly would I be doing with you?"

Nat lights up at that, "Uh. Right. Okay. So. I was thinking… I could… just… walk you home? Or something? I don't… I don't know where you live or anything, but I'm assuming it's far from here? And, uh, I could walk you back?"

You shake your head, "Don't you live in the trailer park? That's a pretty long walk from my place. I don't want to—"

The blonde waves her hands frantically and cuts you off, "No! No! Seriously. It's fine. I want to walk with you. I don't care if I have to take a two-hour detour, okay? I wanna walk you home." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the same switchblade you saw her with the day you two went on the convenience store run and shoots you a small grin, "I can be your bodyguard for the night?"

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. "Am I going to regret this?"

A dumb, stupid grin consumes Nat's face. "Nope!" She pops the 'p' excitedly, " You will not—" She trips over her own feet, nearly faceplants, catches herself on a streetlamp, stumbles back into a trash can, and then drops her knife as she almost falls into said trash can.

You stop and turn around, staring at her unblinking like you can't believe that just happened. And you can't. Talk about comedic timing.

"You have to be fucking with me." You murmur as you look down at Nat, lying there in a Family Guy Death Pose. "We haven't even begun, and you've already—"

"Getting up!" She murmurs, scrambling to put her hands on the trashcan to boost herself to a standing position. "Up! I'm up!" She brushes her pants off and looks around frantically for her knife, "Did you, uh, see where—"

You nod at where it's lying in the grass next to the sidewalk, "I'd also see if you can find your brain cells while you're down there." The words come out in a quiet mumble under your breath, "Maybe your… soberness while you're at it."

Nat waves her hand dismissively at the added comments, "Yeah, yeah. Get it out now, Princess." She grumbles as she slips the knife into her waistband, "Now, come on." She hops back up to full height (which, to be fair, wasn't much taller), "I've got a princess to escort home."

You wish you could fight the smile that appears on your face at her words, as cheesy as they are. "You're so dumb." You murmur out, but you swear she can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks. "I better not have to carry you."

The girl—seemingly in a much better mood—shakes her head. "Nah. Promise I won't put you through that. At least…" She leans in slightly, "Well, unless you want to carry me?"

You shove her shoulder to push her back from your proximity, "Fuck off. I don't want to carry your drunk ass home."

"Drunk?" She laughs, stumbling a bit from your shove, "I've only had two beers, thank you very much."

Based on your narrowed, suspicious glance, she knows you think that's a lie. "I'm serious. Two beers. Just two."

"Fine." You roll your eyes as the two of you walk side-by-side, Nat seemingly instinctively standing on the side closest to the street, "But you obviously did something else."

An undignified, incredulous snort leaves her, "What makes you so sure of that? You even been around a party with drugs?" A beat, "Oh, right. You've barely partied at all."

Although the words are teasing, they also hurt slightly for reasons you can't properly name. A lack of the assumed 'high school experience,' maybe? Either way, there's a small stinging in your chest you choose to ignore for the time being. "Your pupils are wide enough that you can barely see the green in your eyes, for starters." You huff, "It took you, like, ten seconds to come up with a response earlier. You were tripping and stumbling all over—" You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a frustrated exhale, slowing down slightly. "I know I'm not streetsmart, like you. But I'm not completely useless. I know what it looks like when someone is high, Nat."

Nat sighs and slows down with you, pushing a hand through her hair. "It's not like… I took something…" She sighs again, "It was just a party drug. Just some special K."

"Special… K?" You say, confused. "Like… the cereal?"

Nat has to stop herself from face-palming, "The… cereal? Really? No, obviously, it's not the cereal, dumbass." She rolls her eyes, but a grin twitches on her lips at the teasing comment, "Fucking… K." A beat, and when you still don't understand, she swallows and glances around for a moment before mumbling out a "ketamine."

"Ketamine?!" You stop walking, turning to face her, "What?! A fucking horse tranquillizer—!"

She clamps her hand over your mouth, "Jesus Christ! Did you want the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear?!" She glances around properly this time, checking to ensure no one overheard your little outburst, "Yes! Okay? But, like, the dose you take at parties is hardly the same as the dose that gets used to fucking… K.O horses! It's not the first time I've done it, alright? It probably won't be the last! But I'm fine! You don't need to fucking act like I just confessed I was shooting up or some shit!"

"Have you?!" You mumble against her palm, to which she starts shaking her head rapidly.

"No. I've done a lot of shit to my body, but everything's been through the mouth or nose, alright?" A beat, and when she's sure you won't start screaming again, she lowers her hand. "'s not like I do it by myself, alright? It's only ever at parties with friends. People I trust to buy from." And, for added measure, "Don't need you worrying about me. Alright, Princess? I'm…" She hesitates, choosing a word to fit the situation, "Careful. Okay? I'm careful."

"You say that, but you never really know—"

"I don't need your ass getting all over me about this, okay?!" Nat snaps, cutting you off. "Say whatever drug bullshit PSA you need to, but I'm not gonna fucking stop using it when I need—uh, want to, alright?!"

You almost open your mouth to respond to that, snap back at her and raise your voice, but by some grace of God, you don't. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a step back, "Fine." You sigh, "Whatever, Nat. Do your…" You gesture at nothing, "Drugs. Do your fucking drugs."

"Oh, get off it." Nat scoffs, "Acting that you're soooooo much better than me because you're all straight cut and innocent." 

The assumption and the anger in her tone cause you to step back, swallowing down a lump of… something in your throat. "You know I wasn't even thinking that, Nat." You murmur, hurt lacing the words. "I'm just—"

"I don't need you to be worried about me. I don't fucking need—"

"I get it, Nat!" You cut her off, "You don't need anyone worrying about you. Or caring about you. Or even being friends with you. I get it. But I can't help that I care about people, okay?! You just happen to be a person!"

Nat opens and closes her mouth uselessly a few times, trying to formulate some sort of response to your comment but failing to come up with one that wouldn't just be her repeating what was already said. 

Eventually, "Didn't ask you to care." The blonde grumbles, crossing her arms pettishly. But… she doesn't seem to have a proper rebuttal to your claim, letting the two of you fester in the uncomfortable silence that's accumulated. 

A few moments pass in that awkward tension before Nat scuffs her combat boots on the pavement below, "Look, Princess, I…" She uncrosses her arms and runs a hand through her hair, refusing to meet your eyes. "Look. I appreciate the concern, yeah? I just… I don't need or want it, okay?" Then, under her breath, "Hardly worth caring about like that, anyway."

"Nat, c'mon…" You murmur back, taking a careful step toward her, "I…" But the way she looks genuinely uncomfortable at the idea of someone worrying about her makes you hesitate. 

You haven't known her all too long, but you get the idea she's never had anyone look after her. You may not get it, and you'll never be able to understand what that was like properly, but you can't help the way your heart aches at the thought.

Maybe the walls run higher and deeper than you initially thought they would.

"C'mon." You murmur, nodding off in the direction of your house, "I was promised armed protection on my walk home, wasn't I?"

Nat looks back up at you, and a small, barely perceptible smile makes its way onto her face, "Yeah, uh, yeah. I did. You were." 

"Then let's go. Don't have all night." With that, you turn off to start walking and hoping she'll follow.

She does. 

It's like Nat said. If they want to follow you, they will.

"So, uh, where do you live?" Nat tries after a few minutes of you two walking in silence, "You said it was away from the trailer park, and we're heading east, so… Willow's Court?"

"Oh, uh," You blink a few times in shock, "No, but it's right next to it. Uh, Woodsmere Crescent?"

Nat nods a few times, then realises it probably sounds weird that she just… knows the names of all the neighbourhoods on the east side of town, "Yeah, uh, Shauna lives in Willow's Court. So… you just sorta learn the general area."

That… makes sense, you suppose. Either way, you decide not to push that matter further, "You… hang out with her a lot, then?"

Her nose scrunches in response to that question, "Not really. Just end up going by if I get a ride home from parties. Occasionally, we go over there for 'team-bonding exercises'—or whatever Jackie decides to call them that day—but I don't really spend a lot of time with Shauna. She seems okay, or whatever." Nat shrugs, stuffing her hands in the pocket of her leather jacket as she walks alongside you, feet stable on the solid ground. "Only really talk to Lottie and Van."

You blink at the name. Lottie. That was the girl that you talked to earlier—the one that told you not to overthink your interactions with Nat. You try not to let the slight surprise show on your face as you probe for more information, "You close with them, then? Lottie and Van?"

She briefly considers that before giving you a slight nod, "Yeah. Known Van my whole life. We joined the soccer team together back in middle school. Just ended up sticking with it."

"Hey, obviously, it worked out!" You nudge her with your elbow, "Starting Varsity. Gotta be in the sights of some scouts for colleges, right?"

An uncomfortable frown appears on Nat's face at the mention of 'college,' "Yeah, uh, I dunno. Think I accepted a while ago that my chance to get out of this shithole has passed."

That makes you frown back, "What do you mean?"

The blonde runs one of her hands through her hair, hesitating for a long moment with her reply. "It's…" A sigh, "Don't worry about it, yeah?"

You frown, and really want to find out what the fuck she means by that, but you can tell from the look on her face that pushing the topic would only make her mad.

Maybe one day.

Silence festers in the air between the two of you for a handful of blocks, and you more than regret bringing up the future. You suppose it makes sense. She probably lives on an 'if I survive this year' philosophy, never entirely thinking about the long-term consequences of her actions. 

Eventually, Nat decides she can't take the awkward silence and again breaks it, "You gotta be smart though, right? You got colleges knocking on your doors? Maybe for your art?"

"My… art?" You glance at her, eyes widened. "It's… it's hardly good enough for college-level arts programs. Just something I do for fun."

Nat immediately shakes her head, "No… no, I've seen your work. It's good, dude. Like that's the stuff that belongs in art magazines or whatever. And you can't say it's just for fun when you take art classes."

Your face heats immediately at the compliment, and you find yourself stuttering over a meek 'thanks…' having not expected such high praise, especially from Natalie Scatorccio of all people.

This girl is… confusing. You've already determined she's got walls higher than China, but you've started to see the cracks forming in them. There are small, barely visible cracks, but some fractures in the walls nonetheless. There's that old adage about 'one step forward, two steps back,' but… you think you're making some progress. Slowly chipping away at the defenses she's built over time. Maybe you could—

"I think you could get out of this town." Nat murmurs, breaking the quiet (and your train of thought). "You got the brains and the talent. You could do it." Her words are surprisingly genuine, and you think she shocked herself at the admission, based on the way her eyes quickly dart to and from you. 

"Thanks, uh, Nat." You murmur back, equally as flustered as she is. "Don't get a lot of compliments."

It's like a switch flips in her head at the follow-up comment and her entire demeanour changes. Nat walks vaguely closer to you as the pair of you travel down the sidewalk. "Don't get a lot of compliments?" She clicks her tongue, "Princess, who has been depriving you of that? If anyone deserves praise, it's gotta be you." A lop-sided grin rests easily on her face, a far cry from the girl who was just flustered while complementing your art.

"Uh." You swallow nervously, "Uh. Yeah, uh, thanks." 

Natalie drops a low laugh at your fumbled reply, the sound causing an unexpected shiver to rake down your spine. "Anytime, Princess." A beat, "You know, I've got more where that came from. Started with your art and brains, let's move to…" She hums in mock thought, eyes tracing your form in a way that makes you feel something you aren't used to, "Your eyes." The blonde grins, and you both know that you were expecting her to say something far dirtier. "I like them. Like the colour."

It's a flat compliment; you know it as well as she does. "Thanks. You can thank my dad for the colour."

"Mm, got it from your dad, huh? What you get from your mom?" She leans in a little closer, "Anything specific?"

"Uh—" You fluster yourself further, "Uh… my, uh, hair colour?"

Her smile falters slightly at your response—or lack thereof—but she quickly recovers, "It's a nice colour. Rich. Something I could tangle my fingers in."

You almost trip over your own feet when she leans in a little closer to your proximity, "Oh, uh!" You catch yourself on the fence beside you, trying to play it off like you tripped over a rock. "Uh, wow, uh, t-thank you?" A nervous laugh escapes your lips, "I, uh, wash it regularly?"

Nat rolls her eyes at your continued failure to return her flirtations, even by the smallest amount but keeps pushing regardless. "What's your shampoo smell like?" She leans into your personal space, your breath catching at the sudden proximity. "Mm." You can hear her inhale, your heart caught in your throat, "I like it. Very… you."

You start walking a little faster down the sidewalk, mumbling out something you hope is similar to a sound of appreciation at the comment, face burning something fierce. 

"Princess." Nat drawls with a low chuckle, "Don't act all shy on me now. What happened to the lady who was yellin' at me for 'ignoring' her, huh?" Another chuckle follows her words, and she takes some hurried steps to catch up with you. "Not ignoring you now, am I?"

"No, you aren't, uh, ignoring me anymore. That's, uh, for sure." You nervously rub at your arm, feeling increasingly flustered as the conversation continues. "And I, uh, appreciate you walking me home?"

A frustrated exhale escapes Nat, and she pulls back with a huff, murmuring something under her breath that you can't quite make out.

Admittedly, you feel a little bad that you don't—can't—return her flirting. But she stops her flirting at your apparent reluctance and leans away from you, hands back in her pockets. "Yeah, anytime." She grumbles out, causing you to sink further into yourself at the upset that laces her tone. 

The following five minutes are spent in relative silence, the atmosphere far too uncomfortable for your liking.

You're almost relieved when your house comes into view, giving you an excuse to break the tension in the air. You point at your home, a simple brown duplex nestled beside houses that all look exactly the same. It's the type of house that lower-middle-class families would reside in.

"That's me." As you continue approaching the house, fishing the house keys out of your pocket, you say, "I, uh, I really appreciate you walking me home, Nat." Even if it got really awkward and uncomfortable halfway through, "You didn't have to. Especially this time of night."

Nat waves her hand dismissively, stopping at the edge of your driveway. "Don't mention it. Can't let a pretty girl walk alone at this time of night, yeah?" She shoots you a toothy grin, "Always need protection."

You roll your eyes at the comment and shove playfully at her shoulder, "Whatever, Burnout. Just know I appreciate it."

She gives you a grin and a nod, standing there with her hands in her pockets, staring at you like she's expecting something. "Anytime. And, for the record, I provide other services than just security." Nat leans in, a faint twitch of her eyes as she moves further into your vicinity.

With a strained, nervous laugh, you take a step back and hold up your house key, "We will have to… talk about that another time! Gotta… gotta get inside! Parents, curfew, all that fun stuff. Haha! Thanks again!"

You turn around and briskly walk up the driveway, and when you reach the door, you see Nat still standing there out of the corner of your eye. Hesitation seizes your form momentarily at her continued gaze, and for a moment, you almost debate—

Nat lets out a huff, turns, and walks off in a different direction. She fishes a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, grumbling something unintelligible.

Watching her walk off a moment longer, you feel regret starting to tug at the back of your head, so you quickly slide the key into the lock and open the door with a shaky breath, heart beating a little too quickly for your liking.

When you push into your house, the living room is dark, and your parents have already gone to bed. As you discard your coat and shoes by the door, you let that feeling of regret wash over you. Should you have said something? Invited her in? Said goodnight? Hugged her? Kissed her?

Fuck.

Relationships are complicated, and you two still barely know each other. You can't help that you want to know her. You want to see behind those fucking walls. You want to see through the cracks in her mask.

You think you want Natalie Scatorccio.

That isn't a surprise, not really, but the way your brain accepts the thought is.

Holy shit, you want Natalie Scatorccio.

Well. Isn't that an interesting development?

a/n: does anyone actually read the notes I leave? i could be plotting world domination or confessing to heinous crimes in here. anyways I regularly think about how natalie saw misty while she was tripping on lsd in the pilot and then misty ended up killing her. wild. bro had a fucking 25 year early premonition

[banj0possum]

I immediately apologize for the bad English!

How does Caspian plan to keep the fem!reader underwater? Or does he have another plan? thank you, your work is very nice🛐

ill be making this gn since its a part 2 but if you want a one-off thing with a fem!reader, just request it! :3

Also sorry for the long hiatus again but here's the long awaited part 2 ! yaay you're not dead !! :D

Yandere!Siren x GN Reader Pt. 2

CW: Kidnapping, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Non-con licking (reader is asleep), idk Caspian being a delulu icon

🌊 You wake up with a throbbing headache and a vague memory of what transpired before you blacked out.

🌊 The feeling of overwhelming pressure and deepness comes back to you, memories start to come back as you see a red mark on your arm.

🌊 You remember now, the screams and cries of your classmates ring in your ears before the memory of being dragged down to the depths hit you like a wave.

🌊 a splash of water pulled you out of your thoughts, it was then you looked around at the place you were in.

🌊 It looked like you were in a cave illuminated by algae and glowing sea creatures. the cavernous area was sandy and a bit wet with a deep pool which led to an underwater tunnel, it was the only entrance and exit to the cave from what you can see.

🌊 Behind you was a house built out of a shipwreck, the broken boards of the deck repaired with random planks and cloths.

🌊 "Honey~ I know you're a bit out of sorts right now but uhm..could you help me out a bit~?" a familiar voice echoed throughout the cave.

🌊 You gasp and instinctively stand up and back away from where the voice came from. Caspian was lying on the shore, a net full of what seems to be canned food and fish tied around his waist like a satchel.

🌊 "My treasure~! I know you're excited to explore your new home, but can you help me get to shore first~" Caspian coos as he smiles at you awkwardly, his large tail flopping on the sand.

🌊 You grab a piece of driftwood and hold it like a weapon. "D-Don't come any closer!" you yell at him nervously, afraid of what he might do after you saw his capabilities, and his sharp teeth..

🌊 "My sweet, you have nothing to worry about~! Why would I ever hurt you~? Those mean humans tried to hurt us! You'd never do that to me now would you~?" He tries to calm you down.

🌊 It takes a while for you to calm down considering how confused and scared you were, but with no way out and Caspians lack of intention to hurt you, the only thing left to do was to just sit and try to think logically about the situation.

🌊 Caspian tries to help you make sense of your little predicament, it was mostly him making an excuse to hold you close because "Am I not able to help you relax my treasure~?"

🌊 So you're in a cave after getting kidnapped brought to safety by a mermaid, how fun...

🌊 You has no choice but to accept your new lifestyle, after all, the only out was an underwater cavern, and you had no idea how deep or long it was. Caspian might not be the best at moving on land, but without him, you'd drown if you attempt to leave.

🌊 Once you told the siren that you weren't going anywhere soon unfortunately, He lit up and gave you a big, soaking wet hug. "Oh my treasure! You'll be happy here, I promise~!" He peppers your face with kisses, some making you shiver at the thought of his sharp teeth being so close to your flesh.

🌊 He'd go out every day to get food for you and him, sometimes surprising you with gifts!

🌊 He knows you like reading, so any book or parchment that he finds is immediately brought to you so you won't be so bored <3

🌊 More often than not they're too wet to actually read, but you appreciate the effort you suppose.

🌊 You also had to explain what cooking is to Caspian and that humans can't eat fish raw...and alive..

🌊 Get ready to be showered with pearls and pretty shells and treasure! Caspian is a bit picky when it comes to his own horde so anything that he considers nice but not on par with his tastes goes to you~!

🌊 He would always ask to sleep with you in your bed, and he doesn't take no for an answer.

🌊 "It's cold my treasure~! Could you warm me up~?"

🌊 "It gets so lonely in the water~ May I stay in bed with you my love~?"

🌊 "But I got all those nice things for you~!"

🌊 He would keep whining and fussing until you agree. He doesn't care at all that your sheets are all now soaked.

🌊 If you tell him to dry off first, he will! But you'll have to pay him with a kiss~

🌊 He may or may not sniff your hair while you sleep...and maybe lick your neck..

🌊 He can't get himself to sleep sometimes, he'd just watch you sleep the whole time. What can he say? You're too irresistible~!

🌊 Sometimes he'd even whisper sweet things into your ear, promising you the world if you'd let him.

🌊 More often than not, he sings you to sleep. The anxieties of never seeing your family again and living off of just fish and other sea creatures was getting to you, not to mention the many hours of being alone in a cave.

🌊 His siren song lulled you to bed every night. No matter how much you distanced yourself away from him, he was always able to calm you down with his voice.

🌊 "Hush now my dear~...You'll learn to like it here~ And one day, we'll be married and live happily ever after~ Just like in your stories~ Just you wait~..."

[astarions-bride]

hey, this totally isn't z0mibite. Can I get 32 and 9 from the kinky masterlist, pretty please? Location, preferably a tent ⛺️

This turned out a bit longer than anticipated 😅 hope you enjoy! ❤️

A few days into the expedition once you reached the depths of the Amazon, and a lot of hard trekking where yourself and the rest of the crew had to scramble to keep pace with Rob and the Professor, you all found a camping spot that was near a small river where you could finally bathe and replenish their water. You nearly wept and the scientist Tim was misty eyed at the prospect of taking a bath as opposed to the little quick rinses they’ve been doing. The Professor had been pushing them at a brutal pace, excitement boosted at the discovery of a yellow Boa not indigenous to the region, and you had the suspicions that he has forgotten that most of his crew weren’t used to such brutal conditions.

Everyone except Rob.

You had kept a hefty distance away from the older man without being too obvious since he discovered your little crush when Tim was talking way too loud within earshot of the stoic man, you were asking less questions and avoiding eye contact, but Rob had been perfectly normal. However, you had felt his eyes boring into your back when you would film a few scenes of the nature around them whenever James decided to give you the  camera, and there was one occasion where you caught him slowly running his eyes over your body. Of course, that led you to tripping over your feet and nearly twisting an ankle in shock at the dark glint in his bright blue eyes.

You had tried your very best to keep a distance away from Rob, being on your best behavior helping film interviews, and on some level you were successful. It didn’t make your constant anxiety go away though. Especially when he would offer a hand when walking over unstable earth or a rushing stream, his long fingers burning against your skin at the contact, and you nearly fell into a river when he put his hands on your waist to hoist you up over a rock. James found that amusing and had the camera in your face the entire time. Making enough noise that even the Professor had to chide him.

Every moment with Rob seemed to deepen your crush. His experience in the wilderness and knowledge of animals left you fighting against the urge to swoon, his deep soothing voice calm as he explained every question that was thrown at him by Tim or James or even Michelle, and you caught yourself smiling as you filmed him while Michelle interviewed him. Noting the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he flashed a rare smile, the way he seemed to be a well of information that he shared easily, and the way his voice alone made a flush rise in your face. You could barely contain yourself when he addressed the camera. Looking into your eyes just shy of the lens with an intensity that left you clenching your thighs together. The way his eyes tracked every movement you made you knew that he caught the way you shifted and the way your face flushed. You should have known that he would talk to you sooner rather than later.

You had just finished your quick bath, reveling in the feeling of being squeaky clean, and you decided to film a few shots of the water and surrounding trees after everybody had a chance to clean themselves. In the background you could hear James chatting happily somewhere behind you with an awkwardly laughing Lisa and you smiled softly as you filmed a bird hopping around the riverbank. Suddenly, a body stepped up beside you, and the feel of body heat chasing away the slight chill left over from your bath had you fighting a shiver.

“Tonight. Your tent,” Rob murmured quietly, voice quiet yet still had a slight edge that brooked no argument, and this time you weren’t able to hide your shiver at his words.

Gathering your fleeting courage, you turned slightly to stare up at him. The man was staring out over the water, blue eyes flicking over the entire area and into the trees as if a beast was gonna jump out of the bushes any moment, and his face was carefully void of emotion. Standing next to him you felt incredibly small, your head barely reaching his broad shoulders, and your breath caught in your throat when his eyes darted to you.

His eyes were intense, seeming to peer straight into your soul, and any air in your lungs seemed to evaporate. This was the first time he had spoken to you about your obvious attraction to him and your hands began to sweat at his stare.

“All you have to do is say ‘no’,” he offered just as quietly and your heart jumped into your throat at the prospect of losing any chance with him.

Your answer apparently was written all over your face since the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. Seemingly satisfied that he had got his point across he turned on his heel and walked back to the tree line where the crew were setting up their tents. You eyed the darkening sky through the thick canopy, the smell of oncoming rain filled your burning lungs, and your hands trembled as you put the camera up.

It seems you had a date to prepare for.

Later on, long after the sun had set and the heavy rain was pelting your tent, you were curled up under your sleeping bag on the verge of a panic attack. You had prepared yourself the best you could under the circumstances. A packet of Vaseline tucked underneath your makeshift pillow, your pants and panties were folded neatly in your bag which left you in just a loose t-shirt, and your senses seemed to heighten with every minute you were left waiting. You took a moment to be thankful that you had a tent all to yourself. A twig snapped by your tent, making your entire body go rigid, and you silently prayed it wasn’t some creature that would force you to run through the trees half naked. Your tent quietly zipped open, your ears straining for any other noises over the pounding rain, and cool air rushed into your tent before it was quickly closed again. The sudden silence was deafening. You could hear his breathing and you envied the slow calm breaths.

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage almost painfully and your lungs seemed to refuse to work.

“Are you certain?” Rob asked softly and you squeezed your eyes shut in the darkness at his deep voice.

Unable to force words out of your mouth, you pried your fingers off your pillow to reach underneath and thrust the pack of makeshift lube in his general direction, but you stayed curled on your side away from him. Unable to force your body to move as your nerves got the best of you. Without another word you heard the distinct sound of fabric on fabric before feeling him slide underneath your blanket and into your sleeping bag. His body heat wrapped around you and you couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down your spine.

“Are you cold?” Rob asked, his voice so close to your ear and his strong lean body sliding close, and you fisted your blanket in your hands as anxiety clawed at you.

“No,” you finally managed to choke out, before jumping as a warm calloused hand landed on your bare thigh underneath your shirt.

His hand slid carefully against your skin, brushing over your thigh before settling against your hip, and you bit your lip as he reached up to tug on your shirt. It took you a moment to realize he wanted it off. With trembling hands you pulled the shirt over your head and shivered again at the sudden rush of cool air. Chills erupted over your skin, your nipples pebbling as his warm hand swept against your hip and up to your ribcage, and then he slid his hand further up. He brushed against the swells of your breasts, making your breath hitch, and then he suddenly curled his hand around your thigh. With your breath lodged in your throat, you let him spread your thighs and fought a whimper when he placed your leg across his, letting your knee hook over his lap. Exposed and anxious, you tried to mimic his even breathing, but jerked harshly against him as lubed fingers suddenly dipped between your thighs.

You tried to snap your legs close out of reflex, but his forearm held you open.

“Easy,” Rob whispered against your hair, pressing his body closer to you until you felt every bare inch of him, and he kept his hand right where it was as you forced yourself to relax.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how on edge you were, and a fuzzy idea formed in your racing mind. You forced one hand away from your blanket and hesitantly curled your hand over Rob’s wrist. You ignored how you were still trembling, but the man behind you waited patiently to see what you were going to do next. Biting your lip, you began moving his hand against you, and you heard his breath hitch. You fell into the familiar pattern that always sent you shaking with pleasure and the feel of his rough fingers sliding against your sensitive folds had a small whine escaping your throat.

Soon, all tension from your body had dissipated, and you were subtly rocking your hips against his fingers. You felt him nuzzle into your hair, placing a kiss against the nape of your neck, and he hummed lightly at the growing wetness between your thighs.

“You’ve wanted this for a while, huh?” he asked in a hushed voice and your leg twitched against his hip at the husky tone.

His words made your face burn, but you quickly forgot about your embarrassment when his middle finger sank deep into your core as his thumb lazily circled your clit. Your eyes shot open in the dark as your hips jerked forward into his touch and your breath caught in your throat.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he said and you whimpered at the stretch as he added another finger inside you alongside the first.

You nodded as you breathed deeply through your nose to stop yourself from passing out at the sudden pleasure.

Rob’s fingers slipped free from your warmth, making you whine at the loss, but then you felt something bigger nudge against you.

“I want to hear you say it,” he said quietly and your eyes fluttered shut as he began rocking subtly against you, dragging his length through your soaked folds, and your head leaned back to rest against his shoulder.

You felt the scruff of his short beard brush against your temple as he nuzzled against you.

“Please, Rob,” you choked out and you felt his free hand slip up to anchor around your mouth.

You were momentarily confused, making a small noise in question, before nearly shrieking as he sheathed himself deep inside you to the hilt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as an unflattering noise wheezed out of you and he shushed you gently in your ear.

He thankfully stilled against you to let your body adjust, keeping his hand over your mouth to muffle any noise, and you felt his other hand massage the meat of your thigh.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, grinding up into you as you slowly adjusted to his girth, and you whimpered at both the words and movement.

You eventually found yourself moving with him, rocking against him as much as you could while pinned against him, and slid his hand from your mouth to wrap gingerly around your throat. Rob began to move in a slow sensual rhythm and you nearly bit your lip bloody to keep your sounds down. Eventually he moved to a faster pace, snapping his hips against you until you were left clawing at his arm as pleasure coiled tight in your pelvis and warmth radiated from your center. Your body ached at the stretch and the vigorous movement, but it only heightened the bliss rushing through you. The man was grunting in your ear, words of praise mixed with utter filth, and his grip on your thigh turned bruising.

You realized you were panting out his name as he fucked into you, the air in the tent humid and reeking of sex as you failed for breath, and you slapped a hand over your own mouth as a quick and devastating orgasm hit you without warning. Your body arched against him, eyes rolling back in pleasure, and you heard him quietly talking you through your orgasm as he slowed his pace to something slow and deep to draw out your pleasure. It wasn’t until you fell limp and twitching against him that you realized he was still hard inside you. You made a muffled noise against your hand and moved your other hand to reach back to pet through his hair. Rob pulled out, making you wince and moan at the loss, before you felt him pumping himself with his free hand. You leaned your head back to mouth at his jaw, feeling him adjust to press his lips against yours, and he groaned deep in his chest as warmth spilled between your thighs and against your cunt. You moaned again at the sensation, feeling marked as his mouth swallowed your small noises as his tongue swept into your mouth, and you felt his body relax against you.

You both panted almost in tandem and you couldn’t stop the slurred giggle that escaped you.

“I should have said something sooner,” you muttered and felt him smile against your shoulder where he was busy placing soft kisses.

Rob helped ease your thighs close, your body still feeling weak and sluggish, and you felt him pull you closer. You turned around until you faced him, cuddling into his chest shyly considering the act you just committed within feet of your crew mates, and your heart skipped a beat when he wrapped his arms around you.

“Had to wait for the rain. Otherwise we would’ve waken the entire camp,” he explained and you flushed in embarrassment at the truth in his words.

“We should clean up,” you eventually whispered as your eyelids threatened to slip shut and he hummed.

“I��ll clean you up when I’m done with you,” he said evenly and you pressed your heated face against his chest to hide your goofy grin.

[hypnoticsphere]

just some zukki thoughts

Sokka kissing Suki at the boiling rock, melting into her arms, feeling the way she hugs him so close. She’s alive. Of course she is. Suki is strong.

Zuko is standing behind them, shifting awkwardly when Suki notices him. He hasn’t gotten to talk to her… ever really, but especially not after the whole… burning down Kyoshi island thing. Suki raises her brow at Sokka and he just shrugs. Suki just nods, taking that as the only answer she needed regarding Zuko.

Zuko has never been comfortable with touch or proximity. Lu Ten, Uncle Iroh and Mother were the exceptions, but, they’re gone now. So, he should hate it. He should hate that he’s squished in between Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe and Suki of the Kysohi Warriors, two people that hate him, but. . . he doesn’t. They are currently in one of the coolers, one that Zuko himself was in only a few hours ago.

He doesn’t favor the way Sokka’s elbow juts into his ribs, but he doesn’t mind the closeness. It’s almost nice. Almost.

Hakoda is there too, being the entire reason Sokka and Zuko came in the first place. He eyes him intensely, with a look that Zuko can’t quite decipher. He glances between the three of them, seemingly in thought before nodding to himself. Zuko blinks, clearly not understanding what Hakoda’s thought process could be other than planning to throw him into the boiling lake.

He shrinks down further, avoiding the man entirely, willing himself to disappear.

He doesn’t speak for the entirety of their cruise. He listens as Sokka quietly recounts what happened after they escaped for the first time on Appa. He explains why Zuko is here now, how he will be teaching Aang fire bending. Zuko can only nod, not willing to look Hakoda in the eyes.

“And we’re sure we can trust him?” Hakoda says, not unkindly.

Zuko goes to speak, to ramble about how he’s changed, that he spoke out against his father but Sokka beats him to it.

“Of course. He’s the one that helped me rescue you.”

He says it so matter-of-fact that Zuko wants to scream. He feels the way his cheeks start to burn and prays to Agni that it’s only the steam from the lake.

“Okay.” Hakoda says, trusting his son implicitly. Zuko’s mind blanks, eyes widening, how was this so easy for them. How did this trust without a second thought? A part of him wants to yell that they are weak, gullible and the reason they are in this situation in the first place. The other part of him, however, wishes he had that. Hakoda and Suki trust Sokka, not him.

He doesn’t expect them too, not after what he’s done to them, not after what he did to Katara. She was so willing to help him, to heal his scar, and he was so blinded by the thought of getting his father’s love back, he threw away that chance. That chance of friendship. Of trust.

Katara can’t look at him. He can tell Aang is struggling when looking between the two of them. He wouldn’t blame Aang if he told him to leave and to never come back.

Aang is the Avatar, and he’s focused on making the right choice, thinking in-depth about his options and the risks he’s taking. Zuko admires him, truly. He’s come so far since their first meeting at the South Pole. Zuko winces a bit at the thought, and only hopes that they, and Agni, can forgive him. If not that, trust him not to hurt them anymore.

Although, Zuko doesn’t know if that’s an option anymore after what happened with Toph. He hates it. He hates that he was scared when she came to talk to him. He burnt her. She has forgiven him, but Zuko has not forgiven himself. He has to earn that forgiveness, he knows that.

Sokka is the one person that Zuko can’t quite understand. Sokka should be furious with him, and he was, for a while, but now he’s talking to Zuko, showing him useless things, putting his trust into him.

Zuko isn’t sure why the thought of breaking Sokka’s trust makes him so sick to his stomach. Suki too, for that matter.

[birchsugarisles]

ANYONE WANNA READ A SCRAPPED JOSHJER FIC :D I don't have my stuff so I can't draw but I do have my computer, ya'll can send in fic requests if you want _______

Josh's parents are worried about him after the Joe's incident. He hasn't been leaving his room he's just been sitting and writing. In order to figure out what's wrong they ask for help from an unexpected source, Jerry Stokes! _______ It was amazing, terrible, and odd, but it seemed as though Jerry's parents were encouraging him to see Josh. After the incident at Joe's it seemed as though Jerry was never going to see any of his clubmates again, and yet this reassuring nudge was being pushed without precaution. Jerry never particularly liked Josh, though he never hated Josh either. If anything Jerry can't remember any of the conversations they've and yet, he was being asked to visit Josh as though they were anything more then two members of a disbanded club.

Jerry walked into Josh's room for the first time in a few months, looking around it seemed as though half of Josh's collection were going to be stuffed into storage boxes and were going to be thrown into the attic. Josh himself was sitting at his desk in front of the window, the sky was overcast, and the diffused light highlighting dust and making Josh look more disheveled. Josh's hair was let down, greasy strands gently swaying as Josh typed. He looked tired bags under his eyes, a twitchiness to his movements, trying to stay awake to force out another sentence, it was odd.

Jerry held his breath and stepped through he door, as if entering a dragon's den. Jerry quietly tried to get Josh's attention, clearing his throat but Josh didn't seem to notice. Jerry put his hands on his shoulders causing Josh to whip his head around and look up at Jerry mortified.

"h-hi--hey" Josh responded awkwardly

"what's up…" Jerry responded equally as unsure of how to converse with Josh

Josh looked to his computer screen the back at Jerry, "writing….stuff" Josh responded vaguely. It seemed like Josh didn't want to get into talk in depth about whatever he was doing, which was fine though Jerry couldn't help but be a little curious.

"cool….cool" Jerry hated this feeling, Josh and Jerry were practically strangers, they used to have Bill and Pete to lead the conversation, but ever since the incident at Joe's no one has seen each other which made it even more odd that Jerry was asked to do this. Jerry knew that Josh wasn't antagonistic enough to start a fight, yet wasn't secure enough with their friendship to talk openly with Jerry.

A few beats of awkwardness passed as Jerry stared at his feet before Josh handed Jerry a few sheets of paper. It was a relatively small stack and Josh didn't say a word but it was odd, everything was so odd but having something to do was better than nothing.

"…thanks" Jerry mumbled, sitting on the edge of Josh's bed and reading through Josh's unentitled work in progress.

"So you're writing a fantasy novel!" Jerry asked excitedly

"No." Josh frowned, whining a bit as he tried to explain "It's a Sci-Fi novel set in the Dark Ages"

"You're definitely using fantasy tropes" Jerry chuckled, it was nice to be the one to rile Josh up for once. "And the Sci-Fi elements are practically magic"

"I'm subverting fantasy tropes by using technological advancements to explain the universe" Josh explained, pinching the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses ever so slightly. "Sci-Fi as a genre has escaped it's original portrayals and become an aesthetic, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I just wanted to make something…I don't know...something, something good?"

Jerry could tell that Josh cared a whole lot about his Dark-Ages Sci-Fi novella

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fix You Part 1/10

This story is my new baby. ☺️ Ruben is so vunrable in it, though. 😭

Part 2 and 3 are out on my Patreon for Free!

Summary - Reader is hired as Ruben's assistant nurse after receiving head trauma during a football game. He has fallen into a deep depression on his road to recovery and does not accept much help from Reader as she only reminds him of how incapable he is.

Enjoy!

You wouldn't consider yourself a failed actress. No. If it wasn't such a male dominated and misogynistic industry, perhaps you would have continued your short-lived career as an actress. Instead, you found yourself in the depths of Manchester, looking for jobs in nursing. 

Luckily, you had that to fall back on. Listening to your parents might have spared you the experience of being a struggling artist. So, hats off to them for forcing you to study nursing while pursuing your acting career at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. Now, the moment has come to utilize your experience in both ahead of the job interview you had as an assistant nurse.

"Y/N, right?" Said a fairly young man. You arrived at the address you had been given, and there he stood, in the doorway to a fancy apartment complex in uptown Manchester City.

"Please, follow me." He said and led you down a hall towards the elevators. On your way up, the young man explained the terms of the job interview, that if you were given the job, your employment would begin with immediate effect. Starting off with you signing an exclusive NDA.

But why would you have to sign an NDA for a nursing gig, you thought. However, as you were invited to a fairly neat residence, it became obvious to you that your employer was a very wealthy man.

"This is Bernadette and João." My and Ruben's parents." Said the young man, introducing you to an older couple. "And this is Max Foster, Ruben's physio." He further introduced you to a man in his forties, quite fit, as most physio tended to be.

"Hello, everyone." You waved, awkwardly, presenting your best winning smile.

"This is Y/N. She's applying for the job as Ruben's assistant nurse."

"I'll bring him out." Said the man named Max, disappearing into the other room.

You were offered some tea while you waited. Ruben's parents seemed quite surprised that you didn't decline the offer. His mother rushed to the kitchen to put water to a boil, but before she could return, Max entered the living room, leading a blindfolded man by the arm.

With a tap on your shoulder, the man that had brought you up to the apartment gestured for you to rise from the couch. "Y/N. Meet Ruben Dias, my brother." He said.

You stood and straightened your dress. "Erm....nice to meet you, Mr Dias."

The man chuckled. "Mr Dias is my dad."

"Ruben, please." His mother hissed. She entered the living room with your tea and a tray of cookies. "Behave, the girl is our guest."

"Yeah, but if she's holding out her hand to greet me like the other ones did, then tell her to fuck off."

You were taken aback. Quite appalled, actually.

"She's not, Ruben." His brother budged in. "So, can we please get on with the interview?"

You noted the tension already lingering in the room, how everyone seemed careful not to upset the blindfolded man. He obviously had a short temper.

"Fine." Ruben sighed and shrugged off his physio's arm, insisting on taking a seat without his help.

You took a seat as well, looking curiously at the man who sat before you. He had dark, untamed hair and a beard that needed trimming. He was also very young, the youngest one in the room after yourself. And the blind fold he wore was actually a bandage wrapped around his head to cover his eyes. You wondered how long he'd have to wear it, as well as the color of his eyes.

"As you've read in the job description...." Ruben's brother continued, taking charge of the interview. "Ruben is in need of an assistant nurse during the six week recovery of his brain surgery."

It was quite sad. In the job description, you were told that you'd be working for a man with severe head trauma following an accident. The damage to his head caused swelling in his brain, along with damages to a nerve that unfortunately affected his eyesight. However, after undergoing surgery, Ruben was expected to make a full recovery.

"He is also in need of assistance when it comes to physical recovery, since Ruben has temporarily lost some of the mobility in his body...."

Ruben's jaw clenched.

"However, that will fall under Max's job description. Your job, Y/N, will be to make sure that Ruben has everything he needs, whether that is medically or just as a helping hand around the house. We, Ruben's family..." He said, gesturing towards his parents. "Don't have the jurisdiction to help Ruben medically. However, we do handle his financial affairs until he is fit and ready to do it himself."

"There." His brother sighed. "Did I miss anything?"

It was a sigh of relief. His brother was clearly not used to being in this position, and neither were Ruben's parents. Perhaps the accident had been traumatizing for all of them, not just Ruben.

"Tell me about yourself?"

You perked up as the question came directly from Ruben and not his older brother.

"Erm...what would you like to know?" You stammered. He seemed to be looking right at you now. Perhaps he could see right through it, the blindfold.

"Anything." He smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile, more of a spiteful one. "Like, why are you even here?"

"Ruben?" His family hissed.

"What? Her resumé stated that she is based in London. I wanna know what she's doing here, in Manchester of all places?"

"Well, the weather is nicer here, no?"

Ruben raised a brow, perhaps surprised by your comeback.

"And even though I'm from London, I guess I've always wanted to experience life in the north. I hear this is where all assholes come to breed."

The room fell silent. Ruben's family looked to have swallowed their tongues, anticipating what was to come. However, Ruben kept his attention towards you, perhaps wondering who sat before him.

You figured that you blew the interview by not keeping your cool. So much for being an actress.

You grabbed your purse and made the motion to stand up when suddenly, Ruben made a quick movement in your direction, grabbing a hold of your wrist, searching for the palm of your hand. "You're hired." He said and shook it firmly.

Part 2 and 3 are out on my Patreon for Free!

[kyotodogs]

— Lea x Ivan HCS! Lea Rosenau created by- @pleniluneloves

— Lea loves dragging Ivan into all sorts of chaos, and while he never really knows how to say no, he secretly finds her energy kind of comforting. She’s like the sun, and he’s just trying not to get burned.

— Ivan is so precise with his shots that Lea jokes he could shoot a teacup out of her hand without spilling a drop. Ivan doesn’t laugh—he just stares at her, deadpan, and says, “I’d rather not risk it.

— When Lea gets overwhelmed, Ivan has this uncanny ability to just sit there quietly with her, no questions asked. She appreciates that he doesn’t try to fix everything—just offers his steady presence.

— Ivan struggles with eye contact, but when Lea gets all animated and excited about something, he finds himself glancing at her face more often because her enthusiasm is kind of…nice to watch.

— Lea stress-bakes when she’s overwhelmed. Ivan, being Ivan, just quietly eats whatever she makes, even if it’s not the best. She doesn’t even notice until the tray is empty and he’s gone.

— Ivan fidgets with his ODM gear straps a lot when he’s thinking. Lea noticed once and started fidgeting with them, too, just to mess with him. He didn’t stop her; he just started explaining the mechanics in great detail.

— They bond over how absolutely impossible it is to deal with other people sometimes—Lea because she can’t hide her emotions, and Ivan because he doesn’t always understand them. It’s like their shared frustration becomes a weird form of solidarity.

— Lea tries to teach Ivan how to loosen up and have fun, and it usually ends with him awkwardly standing to the side while she crashes into something or someone. He’s always ready to help her up, though.

— Ivan gets hyperfocused when cleaning his rifle, and Lea thinks it’s fascinating. She’ll sit there, asking him a million questions, and even though it throws off his rhythm, he still answers them all.

— Whenever Ivan’s feeling out of his depth socially, Lea jumps in with her chaotic energy and distracts everyone. She has no idea how much he appreciates it.

— Ivan isn’t big on public displays of affection, but Lea doesn’t care. She’ll grab his hand, kiss his cheek, and hug him out of nowhere. He pretends to be annoyed, but the way his ears turn red says otherwise.

— Lea talks a lot, especially when she’s excited or nervous, and Ivan just listens quietly. Sometimes, she worries she’s annoying him, but he always says, “I don’t mind. I like hearing you talk.”

— Ivan instinctively pulls Lea behind him in dangerous situations, and she always fights him on it. “I can handle myself!” she huffs, but secretly, she likes that he wants to protect her.

— When Lea gets frustrated and starts ranting, Ivan doesn’t try to calm her down right away. He just nods, listens, and waits for her to tire herself out before gently suggesting a solution.

— Lea is the only person who can get Ivan to dance, but it’s always in private. She’ll twirl around the room, pulling him along, and though he’s stiff and awkward, she can see the faintest hint of a smile.

— Ivan always notices the small things Lea needs before she does. Whether it’s a glass of water, a blanket, or a moment of quiet, he’s already taking care of it before she can ask.

— Lea loves teasing Ivan to get a reaction, especially since he’s so serious. She’ll poke his cheek, call him cute, or challenge him to silly dares. He rolls his eyes, but he secretly loves her attention.

— Ivan finds Lea’s hyperactive energy exhausting sometimes, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. When she’s around, everything feels brighter, and even on bad days, she makes him feel alive.

— Lea thinks Ivan is way too hard on himself, so she’s constantly hyping him up. “You’re the best sniper out there! No one can beat you!” He’ll shake his head, but her words always linger with him.

— Ivan doesn’t express his emotions easily, but with Lea, it’s different. She’ll catch him staring at her with this soft, almost unguarded look, and when she asks why, he’ll just say, “You make things…better.”

[fizzigigsimmer]

WIP tag game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

The word that @robthegoodfellow tagged me in is... Sleep. I tell you right now, this was surprisingly difficult. You would have thought that I knew in advance and did everything in my power not to start sentences with e's or l's. 😀 But we got there.

Unamed Harringrove Ballet Au

Six-year-old Billy Hargrove watches his father’s beat up truck turn out of their driveway and disappear down the street with an exuberant grin. He had thought his dad would never leave – even though Neil was supposed to have a shift at the factory that morning...

Limited or not, Billy is serious about practice. So serious that he’s still at it two hours later, shuffling his feet to the beat in tandem with the two dancing figures on screen – jumping up with his leg twisted behind his body as he turns and lands. Awkwardly. He sucks in an aggravated breath through his teeth as he wobbles, arms flailing like fire hoses. It’s not anywhere as cool or as coordinated as Baryshnikov...

To B With Love

“Everyone push on the count of three.” Jane urged, biting back a giggle and Will nodded. 

“Quick! Before he’s turned into johnny cakes. One-two-three!” 

The three of them dug their toes into the ground and heaved with all of their might to role the pregnant ewe back onto her feet, just in time for Dustin to come running into their cluster for cover. Big Blue, the lead ram (who was at least shoulder high and had four horns atop its head) knocked into one of the fleeing ewes; thankfully seeming to lose interest in chasing Dustin as the animal climbed back onto his feet...

Even Mr. Clarke, who had encouraged their interest in understanding natural miracles and had loaned them many scientific publications, had just stared at Dustin perplexed when he had tried to explain his theory. But Mr. Clarke hadn’t told Dustin he was being a goose either, or accused him of having too much imagination. Instead, he’d given them a book called Jane Eyre to read because he thought they’d like it. 

“It deals quite a bit with ghosts, and the oftentimes quite human explanations for them.” He’d said with a wink and cheery smile. Max quite liked Mr. Clarke, and the book was turning out to be really good too. Far better than any of the short stories and sermons Ms. Klupp had them reading for class....

While You Were Sleeping

“Pardon me. Sorry.” Steve’s alpha had said politely, like some rich guy in a rom-com with like six degrees, through perfectly white teeth and plump gorgeous lips. To make matters worse, his eyes were blue, and for the first time in his life Steve understood all that shit in the novels about gazes holding hidden depths and secret longings. It was easy in an instant to imagine that the gorgeous stranger he’d just bumped into was as lost in the world as he was, without meaning or purpose. One that he’d obviously find in Steve’s bed, when they fucked the ever living shit out of each other. 

At least, that’s how it would have gone in one of Robin’s books.

Thanks for the tag lovely! I am 1000% sure you have all already been tagged but maybe tag me on your post so I can read your snippits. But no pressure... The word is Book! @dragonflylady77 @adelacreations @a-redharlequin @bigdumbbambieyes @ihni, @chrisbitchtree @medusapelagia @intothedysphoria

[hotheadrednecksimmer]

Vault Tec Legacy Challenge

3 months later, in total 4 months have gone by since Alexia and Ellis went into the Wasteland.

Saylor: There's someone trying to enter the Vault? Could it be....?

Alexia screaming on the other side of the door: I'm sweating, I'm hot, and I'm tired. I want a hot, clean shower and a warm meal. And my code isn't working!!

Saylor shouting back: I'm opening the door!

The Vault door opens and Alexia and Ellis walk in.

Saylor: I'm so happy you guys are alive and back! We were so worried about you guys.... we assumed the worst. So much time has passed.

Alexia: Are you moved into the Overseer Quarters?

Saylor: No, not yet. It didn't feel right for me to move in, when there was still a pos-

Alexia: Cool, I'm going to shower, brush my teeth for the first time in forever, and sleep in a bed where I don't have to look over my shoulder.

Saylor: Shouldn't we talk first?

Alexia: I don't want to.

Ellis: Saylor, Let her go. I'm not quite tired yet, plus we got your research and the part for the generator.

Alexia leaves Saylor and Ellis by the Vault Entrance.

Saylor gasps: You did?

Ellis: It was a pain in the ass and multiple hoops we had to jump through like we were some damn circus animals, but we got it all. Al wouldn't let us come back without getting everything we needed.

Saylor: That sounds like her. I can take the research off of you and I'll put it in the Med bay so we can't start looking over it.

Ellis: We met someone while we were out there. I think I know what Kenzie is turning into ..... and there's no stopping it.

Saylor: Oh?

Ellis awkwardly: I'm actually getting a bit tired, we can talk more in depth tomorrow. Al was right, a hot shower and a bed that hasn't had hundreds of people on it sounds really nice right now.

Saylor: Goodnight Ellis, It's really great to have the both of you back.

That night in the Overseer's Private Quarters

Alexia rocks back and forth on the bed: We made it back. We're safe. Nothing can hurt me in here.

Alexia cries into the bed: How do I even begin to explain what we've been through to the other Dwellers?

The next morning in the Dining Hall

Ben: Where did you go in the middle of the night last night? Is Ophelia having nightmares again?

Saylor: No, she actually slept through the night. I wasn't going to say anything until they emerged from their rooms but Ellis and Alexia are back. They looked quite beat up and they were absolutely fifthly. But, they're alive! And Alexia can be Overseer again.

Ben: Is that what you want? I thought you had been enjoying being Overseer?

Saylor: I only did it because I had to. "Enjoying it' wouldn't be the words I would use to describe the additional responsibilities and work I had to do.

Ben: That is true. I'm glad they aren't dead.

Saylor: You can say that again.

Ben: When do you think they'll be up?

Saylor: There's no telling how long they have been able to peacefully sleep over the past 5 months. I'm letting them rest as much as they can before I announce that they are here.

A couple hours later, Alexia enters the Dining Hall

Val: Mom! You're back! I missed you so much!

Alexia squeezes Val tightly and holds on to her: I missed you more sweet girl. You have gotten so big and beautiful!

Val: Thank you! Oh, mom, you've got scars? Are you alright?

Alexia blinks away tears before Val could notice: I'm much better now that I'm home with you girls. I promise I'm okay, we're all gonna be okay.

Clem: Mommy? MOMMY!!

Clem races over to Alexia and hugs her tightly.

Alexia: Oh, little bear. I missed you so. How tall are you now?

Clem: I'm well over 4 feet tall mom!

Alexia smiles: You're growing like a weed! What are we feeding you?

Clem: I eat whatever Mr. Ben makes. Dr. Saylor wouldn't let me eat the old box of Sugar Bombs. They looked so good!

Alexia: How old were they?

Clem: Like really old, older than you I think.

Alexia: Glad you didn't eat them then. Why don't you and Val come to my room tonight and we have a sleepover? I missed you girls a lot and would love to catch up with my little bears.

Clem: Val isn't a little bear, she's a meanie. I'm the little bear.

Alexia: Okay, well it still stands. Do you want to have a sleepover in my room?

Clem: YES! I'll tell Val and we'll have so much fun. Can we sneak snacks into your room? I know they usually aren't allowed but...

Alexia whispers: Yes, and I won't tell.

Alexia kisses Clem on the check and Clem runs off making a mental list of what all she's going to bring to Alexia's room for tonight. Alexia takes a deep breath. She thought this would be easy, sliding back into Vault life away from the horrors of the Wastelands. Alexia realized at some point that she would have to confront her other fear, confessing how she felt about Jameson and if she was even ready for that conversation.

[So sorry that this was a long episode, I feel like there was so many good things that needed to be included in the homecoming of our two courageous characters. ALMOST added Ellis and Kenzie's reunion but realized how LONG it was. I have loved this series so SO much. This story and series has been on my mind constantly and where I want to go with these characters, on top of the challenge. Another thing I wanted to add was that in the challenge is says that the Dwellers aren't supposed to leave the Vault, but for story telling purposes I wanted to do it anyway. Thank you all who have read thus far and are invested in these characters!] ╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ First | Previous |Next ╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Updated Character List

[emmersreads]

A Psalm for the Wild-Built - Review

4.5/5 stars

The best part of A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers isn’t the robot.

Allow me to explain.

Shortly before Christmas I went to my local independent bookstore to attempt to find a gift for my hard to shop for brother and inevitably ended up not doing that and instead buying myself a little treat. That little treat was A Prayer for the Crown-Shy (in my defence I had a lot of store credit). As I paid I got to talking with the bookstore’s owner (who knows me on account of building up all that store credit) about A Psalm for the Wild-Built.

I told him I’d bought the first book because of its beautiful cover design but it ended up being a lot more meaningful to me than I’d expected.

He replied, “I know! The way a robot teaches a human about life!”

“Oh,” I said. Then, trying not to pause so long it would be irredeemably rude to the man from whom I would be pre-ordering Alecto the Ninth, “That’s not what I took from it at all.”

Look, I’ve read a lot of scifi; I’ve watched Blade Runner. The idea that a robot might be used to explore humanity is not a new idea for me. It’s like telling a French chef that sauce tastes good with cream in it. No shit Sherlock.

The thing that was so great about A Psalm for the Wild-Built, that took it from a neat if dull little worldbuilding exercise about the post-scarcity future to one of my favourite books of the year (in the unenviable 7th place overall), was its exploration of ennui. To me the core of this novel is not the idea that a robot might be more human than humans. APWB has a different philosophical core: the question ‘if we have everything we need, and we are still existentially unsatisfied, what do we do about it?’ What happens to people who still feel unfulfilled in the post-scarcity future?

Protagonist Dex has nothing to feel bad about. Humanity has emerged into the bright light of the future and is doing pretty great actually. What resources are essential for survival and comfort are managed sustainable and the rest are returned to nature. Without competition, humanity lives in peace and happiness, reorienting society to prioritize comfort and quality of life over money and success. Dex has a loving family and friends and every opportunity for self-fulfilment that this utopia could offer and none of them help. Dex wakes up wondering why they can’t seem to stop feeling this nebulous sense of ennui.

The emotional aspect of this premise hits close to home for me. In 2022 I was living with my mum, who subsidized my rent in an otherwise very expensive city and also made me dinner. I had a part time job with an understanding boss and nice coworkers. I felt like I should be living my best your-unemployed-friend-on-a-tuesday-morning life. I felt like shit warmed over.

The existential need that Dex is trying to fulfil throughout the novella is something I can grok on a really intimate level. Like Dex, I got an awkwardly large vehicle and set a course for a location in the mountains that invoked distant memories of happiness, in pursuit of some sort of meaning.

This is, in my opinion, the most novel element of the story. I don’t really care about worldbuilding for its own sake because I’m a hater who is allergic to fun, which sets me at odds with a lot of the solarpunk genre. Here’s the rub: even intentionally low stakes stories ought to have more to say than ‘wouldn’t it be nice if things were just nice.’ A Psalm for the Wild-Built does. It does an admirable job of exploring what our problems would be once we solve all the big ones, and that philosophical question gives the story a depth that makes the worldbuilding worth exploring.

Of course, a nice philosophical idea doesn’t mean a whole lot unless it is implemented well, and that’s where I think A Psalm for the Wild-Built shines the most. In order to tackle the question of why we want when we have everything we need, the novella needs to develop the sense of nebulous and inarticulable emptiness. That’s a tough emotion to convey. I tend to find characters who are unaware of their emotions annoying and frustration (see above: I am a hater who is allergic to fun), but I really loved the way Chambers went about developing Dex here. The idea of setting new goals and doing hard things in the hope of feeling better resonates much more with me than wallowing in endless self-reflection. It’s not more effective either, for those worried about a conflictless story. Instead, Chambers is more interested in what you do when the thing you expect to work doesn’t. It makes for one of the most quietly touching climactic scenes I read in 2023. The depiction of the inarticulable depth of true person to person understanding is really beautiful.

The fact that one of those persons is a robot doesn’t really matter.

[zephiris]

All fancy smancy generative ai models know how to do is parrot what they’ve been exposed to.

A parrot can shout words that kind of make sense given context but a parrot doesn’t really understand the gravity of what it’s saying. All the parrot knows is that when it says something in response to certain phrases it usually gets rewarded with attention/food.

What a parrot says is sometimes kinda sorta correct/sometimes fits the conversation of humans around it eerily well but the parrot doesn’t always perfectly read the room and might curse around a child for instance if it usually curses around its adult owners without facing any punishment. Since the parrot doesn’t understand the complexities of how we don’t curse around young people due to societal norms, the parrot might mess that up/handle the situation of being around a child incorrectly.

Similarly AI lacks understanding of what it’s saying/creating. All it knows is that when it arranged pixels or words in a certain way after being given some input it usually gets rewarded/gets to survive and so continues to get the sequence of words/pixels following a prompt correct enough to imitate people convincingly (or that poorly performing version of itself gets replaced with another version of itself which is more convincing).

I argue that a key aspect of consciousness is understanding the gravity and context of what you are saying — having a reason that you’re saying or doing what you are doing more than “I get rewarded when I say/do this.” Yes AI can parrot an explanation of its thought process (eli5 prompting etc) but it’s just mimicking how people explain their thought process. It’s surface level remixing of human expression without understanding the deeper context of what it’s doing.

I do have some untested ideas as to why its understanding is only surface level but this is pure hypothesis on my part. In essence I believe humans are really good at extrapolating across scales of knowledge. We can understand some topics in great depth while understanding others similarly on a surface level and go anywhere in between those extremes. I hypothesize we are good at that because our brains have fractal structure to them that allows us to have different levels of understanding and look at some stuff at a very microscopic level while still considering the bigger picture and while fitting that microscopic knowledge into our larger zoomed out understanding.

I know that neural networks aren’t fractal (self-similar across various scales) and can’t be by design of how they learn/how data is passed through them. I hypothesize that makes them only understand the scale at which they were trained. For LLM’s/GAN’s of today that usually means a high level overview of a lot of various fields without really knowing the finer grain intricacies all that well (see how LLM’s make up believable sounding but completely fabricated quotes for long writing or how GAN’s mess up hands and text once you zoom in a little bit.

There is definitely more research I want to do into understanding AI and more generally how networks which approximate fractals relate to intellegence/other stuff like quantum physics, sociology, astrophysics, psychology, neuroscience, how math breaks sometimes etc.

That fractal stuff aside, this mental model of generative AI being glorified parrots has helped me understand how AI can seem correct on first glance/zoomed out yet completely fumble on the details. My hope is that this can help others understand AI’s limits better and therefore avoid putting too much trust into to where AI starts to have the opportunity to mess up serious stuff.

Think of the parrot cursing around children without understanding what it’s doing or why it’s wrong to say those words around that particular audience.

In conclusion, I want us to awkwardly and endearingly laugh at the AIs which mimic the squaks of humans rather than take what it says as gospel or as truth.

[bunnyscar]

The Siliven's Request: Part 12

After their encounter with Ven, Manas and Alaine decided it would be best to leave Fairen instead of look for work there. “Even if Ven did forget completely about you, there’s no telling if he’ll stick around just to keep an eye on me. It’d be better if we keep moving,” Manas said. “We should head for the human capital.”

Cocking her head, Alaine asked, “Why the capital?” They had started out from Fairen early that morning and were already several miles away from it. The land here was mostly flat, with clumps of grass and bushes dotting the fields, and in the distance stood several groves of trees. Clouds played hide and seek with the sun, covering it and then floating away. To Alaine, it was beautiful, especially after that week of traveling through decimated land.

“It’ll be safer in the capital,” Manas remarked. “I assume the humans will be more strict there about letting Silivens in, and they’ll have much more security than the smaller villages and towns,” he said.

Alaine frowned. “Won’t it be more dangerous for you, though?” she asked.

Manas glanced at her. “Perhaps. But I think we’ll have more chance of surviving there than anywhere else if the Silivens really do decide to attack you or me,” he stated.

“I suppose,” Alaine said somewhat doubtfully, but she didn’t protest. The capital was as good as any place to look for work, and if Manas was not allowed in, they could always move on.

They walked on in silence, listening to the clomp, clomp of Belle’s hooves and the calls of the hawks that flew overhead. Alaine glanced once more at Manas. As part of their being more honest with each other, Manas had agreed to keep his eyes fully open, even when it was not just the two of them. He looked less suspicious and haughty with his eyes open. And they were beautiful eyes. Eyes that reminded Alaine of the clear blue sky she used to run and play under when she was a little child, of the days when she would watch the clouds and point out to her mother the different shapes she saw. Eyes that invited her to gaze deep into their blue depths. Eyes that made her long for something she could not name.

By the time the sun was going down, they had still not reached the next settlement. “We’ll have to sleep outside tonight,” Manas commented, looking up at the setting sun. Alaine nodded. Though she preferred a bed and four walls to the hard ground and open air, she had become more used to this way of spending the night. They stepped off the road a short ways and sat down next to a large boulder. Opening his pack, Manas pulled out some food they had procured in the city and handed it to Alaine. It was only a piece of bread and some slices of cheese, but after that week of almost nothing, even this meager meal seemed like a feast.

Finishing her piece of bread, Alaine remarked, “Manas, there’s something I’d like to try.”

“Oh?” he queried, looking at her curiously.

“Well, after realizing I can pull up people’s memories and see them as if they’re my own, I got to thinking. Maybe I could do the opposite and put my memories into other people’s heads,” she explained.

Manas blinked. “I didn’t expect you to think of that,” he commented.

“What, you don’t think I’m intelligent enough to come up with ways to use my magic?” Alaine asked, slightly offended.

“No,” Manas responded slowly. “I merely assumed you would have thought that technique would be too intrusive on other people.”

Alaine shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like I’m going to do it without someone’s consent, and I would be careful what I show. I actually thought of it with you in mind. I mean, since I looked into your memories, I thought it would only be fair that I share some of mine with you,” she said awkwardly.

Manas blinked. After a pause, he said, “I suppose it doesn’t hurt for you to try.”

“Okay. You’re sure you don’t mind?” Alaine asked hesitantly. Manas nodded. She concentrated, focusing on the memory she wanted to share. “My memories, show yourself to Manas,” she said. Looking up, she saw Manas gazing at her in bemusement. “Did it work?” she asked.

Manas shook his head. “I saw a very fuzzy picture in my head, but nothing that made sense. Perhaps your words were too vague,” he suggested.

Alaine nodded and focused again, closing her eyes. Slowly, she said, “Show Manas my mother singing.” She had chosen the clearest memory she had of her mother, a night when her mother had come to tuck her in to bed and sung a lullaby to her. The soft tones of her mother’s voice rang clearly in her mind, calming, sweet, making her relax. As the last notes drifted away in her mind, she sighed and opened her eyes again.

Manas was staring at the ground, sitting very still and quiet. Alaine opened her mouth to ask if it had worked, but halted as she saw him wipe something from his eye. She paused, then hesitantly said, “Manas?”

He looked up. Even though the sun had almost set and it was hard to see through the dark, she saw his blue eyes seemed to have grown even more blue, and the ache in them pulled at Alaine’s heart. “Your mother’s voice is beautiful,” he murmured. Alaine nodded.

They sat quietly for a while after that, as the sky grew gradually darker and darker and crickets started chirping in the grass. Eventually, they lay down and curled up in their cloaks. Alaine had almost fallen asleep, when she was startled awake by the sound of a yell. Jerking upright, she looked about in confusion. The yelling sounded near, but she could not see anything in the dark besides a dark shape that was Manas, who had sat up as well.

“Manas, it sounds like someone’s in trouble,” Alaine exclaimed, standing.

He sighed. “Let me guess, you’re going to say we should go help them?” he said. Alaine ignored his comment and started off in the direction of the cries. With another sigh, Manas stood and followed. They went somewhat slowly at first, for it was hard to see, but soon Alaine’s eyes were adjusted to the dark, and they walked a bit faster. The yelling came from behind another boulder that stood farther away from the road.

Rounding the boulder, Alaine and Manas saw two humans waving torches, surrounded by what looked like small black clouds. Alaine gasped as she realized that there were skulls floating in the clouds, and the clouds were actually tendrils of mist connected to the skulls. Grimly, Manas said, “Soul grabbers.”

“Soul grabbers?” Alaine repeated uneasily.

Manas nodded. “They are creatures of the night. They only appear in dark places, and because of their mist-like nature, they can mold themselves into all kinds of shapes even pass through certain obstacles. But their name comes from the fact that they suck the life force out of their victims. The only way to kill them is with light,” he said. Alaine shuddered, imagining those skulls sucking life out of a person, like a vampire sucking a person’s blood.

“We’ve got to help them,” she said, stepping forward. Manas, however grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Didn’t you pay attention to what I said?” he exclaimed in annoyance. “The only thing that works against them is light. In this dark, there’s no way we could make enough light to defeat them, not to mention we don’t even have torches like those two humans over there. We’re lucky the soul grabbers haven’t noticed us yet,” he snapped at her.

“But,” Alaine said desperately, looking back and forth between Manas and the two humans who were now almost completely hidden behind a mass of black tendrils. Manas frowned. Then he stepped forward.

“I have an idea. Wait here,” he said, moving towards the soul grabbers.

Alaine watched uncertainly. Hadn’t he just warned her against going towards them? But Manas stepped confidently towards the soul grabbers. Noticing him, a number of them detached from the group around the humans and sped towards the Siliven. Lifting his hand high, Manas pressed into their midst, and was soon covered with them. The surprised humans watched as the other soul grabbers left them for the easy prey who had no torch. In a moment, however, they disappeared, leaving Manas alone with his hand still upraised, and a bunch of dark objects on the ground.

Alaine hurried over to Manas. To her surprise, the ground around him was covered with what looked like thin pieces of flat metal. “Manas, how did you defeat them?” she wondered.

Manas smirked at her. “Well, seeing you experiment gave me an idea for my own ability. If I can turn metal into liquid, why not do the opposite and turn liquid into metal? The soul grabbers are made of mist, which is basically liquid in air, so all I had do was solidify them to incapacitate them,” he said triumphantly.

“So,” Alaine said slowly, “you turned the soul grabbers into metal and killed them?”

“In simple terms, yes,” Manas replied.

“Extraordinary! Extraordinary!” a voice behind them muttered. They turned to see the other two humans watching them. One, an older man with a white beard and wearing a blue cloak and pointed hat, was scribbling furiously in a notebook. He had small glasses that sat at the end of his nose and looked ready to fall off. The other person, a young man who must have been around Alaine’s age, glared daggers at Manas. Not far from them lay the remains of their camp, a small fire with a couple of travel bags next to it. Apparently they had stopped for the night out here as well.

“I’ve never heard of a Siliven being able to make liquid into metal. Did you say you can even turn metal into liquid?” the man asked, pushing his glasses up his nose and peering curiously at Manas.

Manas nodded. The man began writing again, mumbling to himself. “Extraordinary! Blue-eyed Siliven who can turn metal into liquid and vice versa, quite odd! Of course, we’ve never known much about Silivens to start with, but perhaps it’s more common than we think. I wonder--”

“Err, my name is Sara and this is Manas,” Alaine interrupted his rambling. “Are you two all right? You must be travelers?”

The man looked up from his notebook, blinking at Alaine, then nodded eagerly. “Ah, yes, where are my manners! My name is Alf, and this is Pim, my apprentice of sorts. You see, I am a water magician, as well as a researcher. There are so many fascinating things in this world that we know so little about, and--”

“Master Alf!” Pim, the young man, interjected. He scowled at Manas. “Perhaps we should get going. We don’t want anything to do with a Siliven,” Pim said coldly.

“Now, now, Pim, we should be grateful to them for saving us,” Alf said, patting Pim on the shoulder. “I’m sorry for the boy’s attitude, he has a hatred for Silivens, I’m afraid. You see, they destroyed his village in the war,” Alf said apologetically.

“Your home was destroyed too?” Alaine asked, turning to Pim eagerly.

Pim hesitated as he glanced at her. “Yes,” he answered slowly.

“My home was destroyed as well in the war, so I can understand how you feel,” Alaine said sympathetically. “But Manas is not going to hurt anyone,” she explained.

Pim’s frown returned. “If he told you that, he’s probably lying to you and going to use you somehow,” he said bitterly.

“You are mistaken,” Manas replied calmly. “Sara and I have made a deal to work together, and I have no intention of breaking that agreement. Besides, not lying is part of the agreement,” he said.

“You can’t trust a Siliven’s word,” Pim retorted.

Manas said rather coolly, “Perhaps. But this agreement is one thing I will never betray.”

“Err, Of course, of course,” Alf laughed nervously, trying to defuse the situation. “Come, won’t you join our camp tonight? Not that we have much to offer, except for a fire and some food, but we must thank you somehow for saving us.”

Pim’s eyes widened in horror. “Master Alf, we can’t do that! Maybe the girl could stay with us, but we can’t have a Siliven near our camp! What if he decides to slit our throats in the night,” Pim protested, casting a hateful glance at Manas.

“But he doesn’t seem that bad,” Alf replied. “Besides, if more of those monsters come, we’d be helpless.”

It took a bit more persuading, but at last Pim begrudgingly agreed to let Manas and Alaine join their campfire. He didn’t take his eyes off the Siliven, however, and kept his hand close to his belt, where he had a dagger attached. Manas, though, did not seem too bothered by Pim’s attitude, to Alaine’s relief. Alf was quite cheerful, asking Manas and Alaine several questions about what they were doing out here and about Manas’ abilities. They told him they were heading for the capital to look for work, and Manas shared some about his liquid metal ability. But they did not mention Alaine’s magic, nor did they tell Alf who Manas really was, only that he had been exiled from the Siliven lands.

“Exiled! My, I wasn’t aware that the Silivens did such a thing,” Alf exclaimed.

“It’s not common,” Manas replied.

“What did you do?” Pim, who had been quietly glaring at Manas the whole time, finally spoke.

After a slight pause, Manas answered shortly, “I did something the queen did not like.”

Alf scribbled this in his notes, muttering to himself about Siliven royalty.

“Pim, where did you use to live? I grew up in a small village, though I don’t know the exact location anymore. I went to live with my uncle after the war started,” Alaine said, trying to change the topic.

“It was in the middle of the war area,” Pim said slowly, looking gloomily into the fire. “We were a small village as well, but we got caught between the human and Siliven armies. Everything was on fire. The Silivens were chopping off people’s heads, human soldiers trampled us on the ground in their effort to kill the Silivens, it was chaos. I and a few others barely escaped. My parents didn’t, though,” Pim said, and he clenched his hands. “I fled to Morrow, a town that was just outside the edge of the war zone. That’s where I met Master Alf. He took me in and has been teaching me magic.”

Alf nodded. “After hearing what had happened to his village, I took pity on the boy. Plus, I could tell the boy had a lot of potential for learning water magic. We’ve been working and training together since then, and once the war was over, I suggested we go on a trip to research different places. I thought it would be a good chance for Pim to see the world and get to know about other races,” he explained.

“I see. I’m so sorry, Pim. I wasn’t there when my village was destroyed. It must have been so hard,” Alaine said compassionately.

Pim hunched his shoulders. Feeling much more subdued after that conversation, they soon turned in for the night, Manas agreeing to take first watch. As Alaine drifted off to sleep, she thought of her mother’s lullaby, the sweet music filling her mind and pushing out her worries and sadness.

Link to Part 11:

[braveburned]

★ — Weight shifts awkwardly between his two feet, a nervous shuffle as his gaze flickers away from the woman and off to the side but to no location in particular, brows furrowing in deliberation. Where a stubborn determination had previously filled his being, it's slowly being replaced by a faint worry — how could Gregory possibly begin to explain where it was he wanted to go within ( beneath ) the pizzaplex without further questions. Questions he didn't want to answer.

And a quieter, more startling worry — what if she had been aware of what lurked beneath the depths this entire time? Gregory wanted to trust her, but something whispers a reminder that someone within Fazbear Entertainment must have known what was happening, what lurked under the earth. He's silent for a long time, considering how to go about an answer.

" ... Roxy Raceway. For now." ( not entirely the truth, but it's a start, if nothing else ). "But if you're seriously gonna come with me, you can't argue with me. Promise. I swear, I know what I'm doing."

oh  that  really  threw  him  off  guard  didn't  it  .   not  expecting  an  adult  to  actually  care  what  it  is  he  had  to  say  .   but  of  course  it  did  .   listening  to  children  isn't  really  the  norm  .   now  she  knows  not  of  his  traumas  ,   the  struggles  that  gregory  has  had  to  endure  his  whole  life  up  until  meeting  michael   &*   even  then  ,   look  at  where  he  is  .   but  she  wants  to  pretend  that  she  at  least  tries  to  make  it  a  little  easier  .   she  doesn't  for  she  hovers  behind  michael  quietly  ,   not  helping  it  .   but  still  understanding  in  the  end  he  was  a  grown  adult  who  knows  what  it  is  to  take  on  this  responsibility  or  is  learning  at  least  .   but  there's  amusement  upon  rosa's  features  ,   seeing  just  how  confused  the  boy  gets  at  her  answer   &*   at  his  apology  .   it  was  cute  .

‘  where  are  you  going  ?  ’    amusement  slowly  comes  to  morph  into  something  a  little  more  curious  .   same  with�� her  tone  .  questioning  above  all  .   in  the  back  of  her  mind  she  scolds  herself  ,   for  this  is  why  you  don't  allow  children  free  rein  .   they  just  go   &*   do  possibly  dangerous  things  .   but  she's  in  it  now  ,   no  matter  what  she's  told  ,   rosa  will  be  right  behind  gregory  ensuring  his  safety  at  all  times  .

[absolutebl]

I saw you reblogged a few posts regarding subtitles and how they’re often not really the ~best~ lol. It reminded me how when Semantic Error was airing, some people who knew both English and Korean were a bit annoyed and/or confused at how the show was subbed because it cut out a lot of the more cheeky/rude and explicit language (in addition to there being some inaccurately or awkwardly translated dialogue). This seems to be an issue across countries too! I wonder why it happens. Things being inaccurately or awkwardly translated could just be from subbers not being proficient enough in one language to translate and keep the same meaning and make it flow in the translated language. However, I find the cutting out or censoring of bad language to be kind of odd and I’m curious what the thought process is there. That doesn’t seem like just translators who haven’t mastered the skill, it seems more intentional, but I can’t figure out why they might do it!

Why Are Subs/Captions Censored? Or different? Or inaccurate?  

Yeah, those of you who got the GaGa subs for Semantic Error reportedly got better swears, but less accuracy in other regards. I only saw Viki's subs and some screen caps. 

This was one of my favorites off GaGa: 

And I *think* it is straight up a wrong translation. 

Also there was this bit of Cutie Pie:

That was challenged by the bilingual community, then re-captioned so now this version doesn’t even exist any more. (Or something like that, I wasn’t paying very close attention.) 

So why does this happen? Why are they different? And why no bad language (I get to that in #4.) 

Sub Challenge # 1 - Cultural Depth & Nuance 

Okay so I had to do a whole post about Daisy and Intouch’s language nuance in ONE SCENE in SCOY in order to explain what was going on in just 3 sentences. The translator even copped up to how complicated it was. 

That’s just how it is sometimes with language. There is too much nuance. There actually is no way to do a direct translation. 

Sometimes subbers or sub teams do put in comments saying this kind of thing. The Stay subber for Kingdom LW on Viki is hilarious. And do you any of you remember... who was it? PinkMilk? Back in the day, who did 2 Moons grey for us? What a HOOT those subs were. I kinda LOVE getting little footnotes on language and personal commentary. But I’m warped. Where was I?  

For Semantic Error there was much discussion over the yaja time scene. (This is the beginning of ep 7, drinking together in the bar after hours right before the BIG kiss). 

Viki translated it as “let’s be frank.” But actually yaja time is more complicated than that since it involves linguistic register shifting and role reversals. It allows the younger person to be more frank (and impolite) without consequences... or supposedly without them. 

I hope you can see how this is also an issue for idioms, puns, word play, sarcasm, and humor. The translators may have English as a second language, or be translating from their second language (so the may know one idiom but not a good English one to translate into). Also the country they live in/are originally from influences them and how they translate. 

Sub Challenge #2 - Platform Philosophy 

The platform’s source country may make a difference in its “house rules” and subbling policy. Viki is a Japanese company, YouTube a US one, and GaGa comes out of Taiwan. But how they source subs also makes a difference. Is the subber a volunteer, a team, hired by the studio, or hired by the platform? 

So Viki (mostly) does subs by volunteer teams, this means certain things are mutually agreed upon, they try to make their subs less open to interpretation but it means they can flatline, getting kind of muted. In other words their subs in English can come off as bland and businesslike - subs by committee. Also they are usually in a rush to get them uploaded fast, and can be haphazard. They had access to a lot of Korean and Japanese subbers, but not so many from other languages. 

GaGa either buys ready subbed, handles them in house, or hires professionals, which means (mainly) one person is doing most of the subs for that one show. Like a translator hired to do a novel. Which means that person’s voice style will permeate their subs. Also any chronic mistakes or non-standard choices they make will carry through. You can notice this if the subber has a tick (something they never learned correctly in English). 

So, for example, I think there is basically one eng subber for GMMTV who cannot let go of pluralizing the word “works.” As in “I have to go do the works now.” I mean, it’s awful cute but also, hot tip, we never say that in English (outside of ladies doing “good works” in Victorian London). They occasionally do “childs” too. Dek dek. So cute. 

A lot of Thai and Vietnamese BL is subbed by someone hired by the studio, or on staff at the studio (in house). There are even some Thai actors who helped proof their show’s eng subs. Pavel is rumored to have helped with 2 Moons 2, and, of course there’s this gorgeous man:  

This is why there are indie subbers who have fans, who follow them around and tip them and watch everything they translate, because the LIKE the subs. 

One of my favorites is irozuku.

Sub Challenge #3 - Registers 

How to translating honorifics, shifting pronouns, and polite particles from a language that has them to one that doesn’t? 

This is a big one for many Asian languages into English. Since English no longer has registers (we used to, see thee/thou), but most Asian languages do have them (at least formal and informal registers if not more). Registers are indicated by the use of honorifics and polite particles, but also by use of slang and rude words, changing pronouns and titles/modes of address, and grammatical arrangements. 

Base level explanation of registers for English only speakers:

Think about someone using baby talk and how different that is from “normal” English. Now imagine it’s not just for babies, that you have one way of speaking for someone older than you, another for someone younger or equal; sometimes one mode if you are female, and another if you are male; one if if you are with your parents’ generation, and another if you are meeting royalty; one way of speaking in business or with professors and another when you are home or with friends. 

Viki seems to just translate all honorifics (from Japan to Korea to Thai to...) to the person’s first name in English. So if the boy calls his older lover phi or P’Dean, Viki just always writes Dean. If he calls him sempai, sensei, sunbae, hyung, hia, whatever... Viki has just unilaterally decided to make it the first name. Which is very odd for Japan in particular, where first names are almost never used. 

(I actually really LOVE the translator of Love By Chance on YT, they left many of the particles and honorifics in, so you can read them and start to learn.)

As a result, unless it’s a plot point they don’t both to explain that register shifting is occurring, and even then... you kinda gotta know what you’re listening for. 

So like sunbae versus hyung in Semantic Error is a big deal. (And if there is any sluttier execution in existence than JaeYoung’s yaja time hyung to SangWoo I need a link right TF NOW, for science.) But unless you’re hearing/notice SangWoo call JaeYoung sunbae the whole time and then drop to hyung only at moments of key significance/emotion, you don’t realize that hyung is important or why. 

In Love by Chance the subber chose to explain Ae’s use of Koon Chai* for Pete, thus saving us all from confusion, but in KinnPorsche they chose not to explain Khun Nu for Tankhun and just look what happen to my inbox! 

* Khun Chai’s a bit like Little Prince, or the UK’s old fashioned Young Master. Also Ae add’s Ai to the front which means equal/friend/peer but also is a bit rude and casual. So he amended a formal title with an informal honorific. 

Translators have to decide whether to go for accuracy or precision or a compromise between the two. And they’re given like one sentence or so to explain themselves if it’s a plot point. See challenge #1, that’s not enough space. 

Sub Challenge #4 - Profanity Censorship 

Possibly not “exactly” censorship but basically certain platforms, distributors, web hosts, searching platforms, and integration software programs come loaded with (or subject to) profanity (AKA modesty) crawlers. I’m only familiar with the USA ones but one of the things they hunt for is... you guessed it, swear words. 

Now these can crawl captions that are soft subbed (uploaded as a separate file) but not (really) those that are hard subbed (encoded as part of the image). They are looking for bad/blue language, and they find it. They were designed (originally/ostensibly) to catch porn and sex work (*clutches pearls* protect the children!) and not for moral reasons but for in-country (and intrastate) compliance reasons (the platform doesn’t want to be sued, so many platforms police themselves *waves at google*), but are now actually being used to find unlicensed IPs (the platform doesn’t want to be sued). 

Did I mention the suing part? 

Here on Tumblr you can imagine this as just like the tagging wars. The crawler has a list of keywords and they just flag up anything that triggers them. 

The product (video) is “punished” for its infraction in various different ways (depending on the platform); 

On YT, for example, a video found to contain swear words can be flagged with a notification for contestation (channel has to take action within a certain time frame), or the whole channel could get removed, or that one video could get blocked until fixed, etc... resulting in major loss of revenue. 

Some BLs will simply have a few episodes behind an 18+ mature rating (the kind you have to click on, Cutie Pie did this) to avoid issues with visual content. But that can detrimentally impact your add revenue, and sponsorship deals. (Watches certain brands clutch their pearls.) 

But for subs? 

It’s a hell of a lot easier just to not use the word fuck. It’s just one word, after all. 

Now, I would expect a platform like GaGa that specializes in high heat content just not to care much. But they also might want to be careful of pissing off host countries, and subs are easier to crawl than imagery, so they might just have a house policy in place (style sheet) not to bother with bad language, too much of a hassle for not enough reward. 

For example, I’m sure as shit not tagging this mf post with “profanity” “censorship” or even “YouTube” because i don’t want this post to be flagged or attract the wrong attention.  

Sub Challenge #5 - The Pay 

I don’t talk about this because I don’t know any subbers personally, either pros or fans. I do number a few literary translators among my friends but it’s materially different in the publishing industry. Some discussion here. 

(source) 

[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

Part 4: Damn Daniel, Back at it again with the (symbolic) white vans

Note: this is a part of my essay "The Awkward Meta-Tragedy of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman", see [here] for the masterpost of all links, reading order, and content warnings.

Ah, so, here we are.  This is where I actually started with exploring the ending, and what was originally going to be the entirety of this essay.  Clearly, as I re-read the books to get a grasp on what I wanted to write, things… expanded.

                To put things quite frankly, I don’t like the Daniel version of Dream of the Endless.  Not because he replaced Morpheus, nor because he’s a protagonist of the sub-par sequel series, nor for anything he does, really.  Rather, I’m severely uncomfortable with what he represents if Morpheus’ end is interpreted as a straightforward, fully prepared, and completely intentional suicide.  If that is the case, then Daniel rather awkwardly represents the epitome of what a suicidal person might assume in the depths of their depression: that someone better will simply come along and replace them, and that all their family members, friends, and work colleagues will end up better for their death.

                To emphasize this contrast, I feel that, of all things, the Christmas classic film It’s a Wonderful Life serves as a good foil.  Unfortunately, I can no longer find the link to the post that analyzed and explained the film far more thoroughly than I can here, but the gist of the message is that the oft-memed journey to an alternate timeline is the result of the protagonist, George Bailey, being so suicidal that he believes that not only is the world better off if he kills himself now, but it would be better had he never even been born.  It takes literal divine intervention of his guardian angel, Clarence, to show George that he is very, very wrong.  George believed that everyone would be better off without him, and in some cases he’d even be replaced by a “superior” person—he thinks his wife would’ve married a rich guy, for example.  But instead, George learns that he truly fulfilled a role in his loved ones’ lives, the whole town’s lives even, that nobody else could.  Without him, the town would be at the mercy of evil businessmen, his wife would never find love or marry, and his children wouldn’t exist.  The world is better with him, every person is unique and irreplaceable, Merry Christmas to all!

                In a stark contrast, the narrative of Sandman rewards Morpheus for suicide (or at least death), and shows him as being very literally replaceable.  Daniel takes up his powers, his memories, and not just his title or role but his literal life, even becoming the new replacement brother to all Morpheus’ siblings.  This isn’t even the first time they’ve replaced a sibling—an easily brushed-over point is that Despair was killed and replaced with the current version of Despair at some point in the past.  Given how little anyone seems to care that the new Despair is different, nor really even acknowledges a difference aside from a few throwaway lines hinting at the storyline, it doesn’t present an optimistic picture about Morpheus’ family really caring that he died and got replaced (Despair herself brings this up in her funeral speech for Morpheus, but then again it is her literal job to be a pessimist).  I mean, the Endless are a really bizarre and fucked up family in just about all respects, but that’s still really dark.  There’s also the argument that Morpheus is not a person, who would be irreplaceable, but instead a personified concept, who therefore can be replaced—but to accept that would be to subject the Endless and other nonhuman beings in the series to the same mindset that led to Calliope being imprisoned and tortured for decades: “It doesn’t matter because they’re not human.”

                And, in terms of “rewarding” Morpheus’ death… well, let’s face it.  In the little bit of canon, non-sequel screentime we see of Daniel, it’s clear he’s a lot more level-headed and dedicated to love and forgiveness than Morpheus was.  He spares Matthew from The Kindly Ones’ wrath, and is so even-keeled and all-loving that he even lifts the punishments from grade-A asshole rapist Richard Madoc and long-term Dream-torturer Alex Burgess.  In the perspective of someone living in that universe, well, if you have to have a being in charge of a major function of reality, you’d probably want someone that chill and loving, right?  That’s definitely an upgrade from the moody and vindictive Morpheus.  So yeah, the universe comes out great from what was potentially a suicidal meltdown.  If it was a suicide, it’s arguably framed as a heroic sacrifice for the good of the universe, even if it did cause a reality storm that waylaid some travelers at an inn along the way.

                It’s like if It’s a Wonderful Life had been dedicated to showing George Bailey that his death would be a good thing!

                I mean, Morpheus and George Bailey are very different types of characters, but framing an intentional suicide as positive still feels a bit off.

                It is not just this awkward framing of suicide as heroism that makes Daniel’s takeover uncomfortable from a reader perspective.  There is also the complicated relationship of Daniel to humanity, purity, and how the two are incompatible.

                Daniel’s color scheme is NOT subtle in the least.  He’s pure white from head to toe, and indeed he is the perfect new Dream of the Endless, now rid of those pesky flaws Morpheus had—which, like I mentioned, tended to be his more humanlike ones.  Tumblr user thenightling did an incredibly thorough explanation of “What is Daniel Hall?” [here] that I highly suggest reading for a greater explanation of the character’s existence, but the part I’d like to highlight here is that Daniel, though born to human parents and gestated in dreams to become a sort of human-dream-being hybrid, has his human side literally burned away by a purifying fire.  (Well, according to Puck the fire didn’t take all of it, but who knows how reliable Puck of all people is.)  Likewise, he even rejects his human name; I only use it here for convenience’s sake.  While having this setup is probably great for the people in-universe, it presents a rather pessimistic, dark view to the reader.  Humanity, and thus relatability to the audience, is something that needs to be discarded, purified, and burned away.  Humanity is a flaw.  Plus, there’s just the plain old problem of perfect characters being boring to read about.  I guess it’s to our benefit that Danny only comes into his power at the end of the canon run.

                I already touched upon Daniel’s rejection of his human name, but there’s also more to that rejection.  While Daniel was born human and rejects his human name, Morpheus was born Dream of the Endless, but chooses to go by “Morpheus”.  There is basically no way that this could be his actual given name; it’s Greco-Roman in origin, which, while ancient to us current readers, would be awfully new for a character that dates to nearly the start of the universe.  The audio drama version even emphasizes that the Endless fundamentally have no names unless they choose one.  It also feels notable that Daniel insists on going by his title, Dream, alone.  Morpheus, who not only chose a specific name but collected many others, desperately wanted a life/identity beyond his job but felt that it was irresponsible and/or impossible for him to do so.  Daniel, happy and insistent to embody his title and nothing more (note how even the “changed” Daniel still refuses Destruction’s reminder that he can quit his job), is thus also the embodiment of what Morpheus thought he should be: the ultimate workaholic with no desire to be anything but a function.

                I must say, The Sandman is unique in that it might be the first work I’ve seen that portrays someone completely absorbing in their career, forsaking personal identity in the process, as a good thing!                

And once again, I must emphasize, the contradiction between toxic work mentality and heroic happy ending is entirely between the audience and the in-universe crowd.  In-universe things are great; you want your essential universal forces to be dedicated to the job.  But the message to the audience, mortal humans who likely have struggled with work-life balance, is rather bleak.