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ingramjinkins · 2 years

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HEY! MAKE A GAME!

Here’s my new free 8-fold I was handing out at the SCAD Minicomic Expo! I’ll have more free copies with me at future shows.

I’ve been dabbling in game making lately using open source & free assets so I wanted to collect everything I’ve learned so far in one place. Coding has been really fun as a hobby since it marries skills I already have with an entirely new way of thinking.

This zine was put together with Electric Zine Maker which I highly recommend to everyone.

EDIT: I have been warned that OHRRPGCE is not good for those with photosensitivity, as it contains huge contrast and flashing. Sorry for the oversight, stay safe.

Transcription in read more

Cover with “HEY! MAKE A GAME!” in big text. Ing’s cat Asher turns around and says “hm?” and then follows up at the bottom with “Isn’t that expensive tho?”. The credits at the bottom read “some thots by Ing”.

A drawing of Ing holding up Asher and talking to him. They say “actually, buddy, there’s quite a few OPEN SOURCE SOFTWARE game engines that are kinda easy to learn!” Asher replies with “so... free? I like free.”

This page is about TWINE. It’s for PC, Mac, Linux and is written in HTML, CSS and Java. Some notable games made with it include Us Lovely Corpses and Egg Baby. Text games, choose your own adventure, and interactive fiction! IN A WEBPAGE!! Asher looks towards the Twine interface while saying “easy!” At the bottom is a note that reads “let me add that learning HTML/CSS is a really great skill to build especially with the growing return to web 1.0 in the face of horrifying social media practices just saying”

This page is about OHRRPGCE. It’s for PC, Mac, Linux and is written in C. A notable game made with it is Franken by Splendidland. Free RPGMaker but more stripped down-- which is good! Was built for creators with no programming knowledge so a great starting place if you just wanna MAKE something. Has its own asset maker built in so you can make the whole thing in the thing. There is a little pixel sprite of Asher in a wizard outfit at the bottom.

This page is about Ren’py. It’s for PC, Mac, Linux and is written in Python. Some notable games are Doki Doki Literature Club! and Butterfly Soup. Ever wanted to make a visual novel, dating sim, or get freaky w it and program a whole simulator? Here u go. Syntax is like writing a screenplay! Extremely accessible (mostly gets difficult when you add branching paths). At the bottom of the page is Asher in a visual novel layout with a text box below him. He’s wearing a suit and petals are floating around him while he blushes. The text box says “A whole can of tuna? For ME?”

This page is about Godot. It’s for PC, Mac, Linux and is written in C. 2D & 3D game dev for basically everything including consoles. This is for WHOLE ENTIRE game development. Much more advanced than the other programs mentioned in this zine & assets must be made outside the program. At the bottom, Asher is playing minigolf and about to make a putt. A notable game is that my brother is making a golf game with it :)

This page starts with a list of Asset Resources. A tiny Ing head at the top says “I have one doll hair” as they hold a dollar looking sadly. The list is as follows: Blender, 3D modeling. Inkscape, making vector images. Atom, simple coding software (recc’d for Ren’py). Unsplash, free images. Freesound, free audio. thepatternlibrary.com, free repeating patterns. itch.io, lots of free/PWYW asset packs are published here!

The next list is for Paid Software I Like. A little Asher says “Meowby next paycheck...” The list is as follows: Aseprite, for spriting! 1-time payment, powerful but easy to use interface. RPGMaker series, Remember OFF?? Let’s goooo. Sometimes it’s for sale on Steam. Clip Studio, dump Adobe into the sea.

This is the back cover and has the website ingramjinkins.com at the top. Asher has his paws on his face and looks joyous as he thinks about a panicked lizard. He says “Thx ING! Now I can make a game! Maybe one about catching pesky lizards!!” At the bottom there is text that reads “made w/ CLIP STUDIO and alienmelon’s ELECTRIC ZINE MAKER”.

#zine #8fold #8-fold #game dev #zines #electric zine maker #ok these look terrible on the TL lol please click thru

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candysims4 · 7 months

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SWEET TOOTH SET

Oh my gosh, I am so excited about this new set and finally releasing it! I seriously can't get enough of these pieces - they're just so cute! Every little detail is lovely, from the bow in the hair to the hearts on the nails.

AS IT’S TOO MUCH TEXT, I’LL LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM PLUS THE CREATOR’S NOTES BELOW THE CUT.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

360º GIF & THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY): BONBON HAIR | APPLE PIE NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) | BISCUITS EARRINGS | CHERRY TART DRESS (TWO VERSIONS) Free release on 17th October 2023

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library, @wewantmods, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO 💖

DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM:

BONBON HAIR

HAT GAME INCOMPATIBLE

6.476 POLYGONS

119 SWATCH COLORS - 24 plain colors from EA Color Palette - 95 plain colors from my Candy Color Palette

YOU WILL FIND IN LONG HAIR OR/AND STRAIGHT OR/AND UPDO

APPLE PIE NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors description for both versions.

1.320 POLYGONS

113 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 58 color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/FINGERNAILS

BISCUITS EARRINGS

360 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

CHERRY TART DRESS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors description for both versions.

5.446 POLYGONS

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN FULL BODY/SHORT DRESS

CREATOR’S NOTES:

Let's start with my favorite item of the set, Bonbon Hair. It's the cutest hair I've ever created, and I'm really proud of it. The bow is adorable, and I was finally able to make a great 3D model of it. I'm really happy with how the hair looks - it's exactly what I had in mind. I hope you love it too! One thing to note is that the bow on Bonbon Hair isn't removable and won't work with hats. Usually, I prefer hairstyles that can be worn with hats, but for this one, I needed more space for the bow's texture. I also drew the bow's shadow onto the hair's texture to give it more depth and a better overall look. I also made sure to keep the polycount low - around 6k polygons. I could have made it lower, but it didn't look as good in movement. So, I kept it at a higher polycount to maintain good movement without too much distortion.

I designed the dress to complement the hairstyle, adding a bow at the back for an extra touch of charm and romance. I used a new mesh from the latest kit that I couldn't wait to franken-meshing with it. My goal was to create a vintage silhouette and style, and while I'm not sure if it was successful, I'm very happy with the final result. At the end of the day, it looks cute, and that's all that really matters.

The nails are a kind of old wip that I finally decided to finish. It's one of the cutest designs I've ever come across, and I was determined to recreate it in The Sims. I love a stiletto design, and for me, one of the best nail art is this one; it matches the nail's format and is so cute. The nail includes two color options but only one spec option. However, I plan to create additional versions in the future, including a glossy and matte finish, possibly as part of a mini set that I'm working on that will have this and other versions of some of my recent clothing designs.

Next up, we have the Biscuits Earrings. These were originally a work in progress meant for a different set, but while I was styling the Sims, I realized how well they matched with the current Sweet Tooth Set. So, I quickly finished them up and included them as part of the set.

By now, it's all. Unfortunately, I've been working very slowly lately; thanks to this heat wave, I feel most of the day like I'm melting. It's scorching in here, guys. I don't understand how a person can say global warming is a lie; really, how?!

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worstjourney · 5 months

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The Millennials' Polar Expedition

A year ago today (23 Nov 2022), I launched Worst Journey Vol.1 at the Scott Polar Research Institute. This is the text of the speech I gave to the lovely people who turned up to celebrate.

As many of you know, my interest in the Terra Nova Expedition was sparked by Radio 4’s dramatisation of The Worst Journey in the World, now 14 years ago. The story is an incredible story, and it got its claws into me, but what kept me coming back again and again were the people. I couldn’t believe anyone so wonderful had ever really existed. So when I finally succumbed to obsession and started reading all the books, it was the expedition members’ own words which I most cherished. These were not always easy to come by, though, so plenty of popular histories were consumed as well. Reading both in tandem, it soon became clear that, while there were some good books out there, there was a lot of sloppy research in the polar echo chamber as well.

I also discovered that no adaptation had attempted to get across the full scope of the expedition. There has never been a full and fair dramatic retelling, all having been limited by time, budget, or ideology from telling the whole story truthfully. I was determined that my adaptation would be both complete and accurate, and be as accountable as possible to those precious primary documents and the people who wrote them.

So the years of research began. I moved to Cambridge to be able to drop in at SPRI and make the most of the archives. Getting to Antarctica seemed impossible, but I went to New Zealand to get at least that much right, and on the way back stayed with relatives in Alberta, the most Antarctic place I could realistically visit. I gathered reference for objects wherever I could. Because Vol.1 takes place mainly on the Terra Nova, which is now a patch of sludge on the seabed off Greenland, I cobbled together a Franken-Nova in my mind, between the Discovery up in Dundee and the Star of India in San Diego. I spent a week on a Jubilee Sailing Trust ship in order to depict tall-ship sailing correctly. I’m sure I’ve still got loads of things wrong, but I did all I could, to get as much as I could, right.

But still, everyone I met who had been to Antarctica said, “you can’t understand Antarctica until you’ve been there, and you can’t tell the story without understanding Antarctica; you have to go.” So I applied to the USAP’s Antarctic Artists and Writers Program, with faint hope, as they do “Ahrt” and I draw cartoons. But I must have blagged a good grant proposal, because a year after applying, I was stepping out of a C-17 onto the Ross Ice Shelf. The whole trip would have been worth it just to stand there, turn in a circle, and see how all the familiar photographs fit together. But the USAP’s generosity didn’t stop there, and in the next month I saw Hut Point, Arrival Heights, the Beardmore Glacier (including the moraine on which the Polar Party stopped to “geologise”), and Cape Crozier, and made three visits to the Cape Evans hut. Three! On top of the visual reference I got priceless qualitative data. The hardness of the sound. The surprising warmth of the sun. The sugary texture of the snow. The keen edge on a slight breeze. The way your fingertips and toes can start to go when the rest of you is perfectly warm. The SHEER INSANITY of Cape Crozier. The veterans were right – I couldn’t have drawn it without having been there, but now I have, and can, and I am more grateful than I can ever adequately express. With all these resources laid so copiously at my feet, all I had to do was sit down and draw the darn thing. Luckily I have some very sound training to back me up on that.

Now, this is all very well for the how of making the book, and, I hope, interesting enough. But why? Why am I putting so much effort into telling this story, and why now?

Well, it means a lot to me personally. To begin to understand why, you need to know that I grew up in the 80s and 90s, at the height of individualist, goal-oriented, success-driven, dog-eat-dog, devil-take-the-hindmost neoliberalism. It was just assumed that humans, when you get right down to it, were basically self-interested jerks, and I saw plenty of them around so I had no reason to question this assumption. The idea was that if you did everything right, and worked really hard, you could retire at 45 to a yacht in the Bahamas, and if you didn’t retire to a yacht, well, you just hadn’t tried hard enough. Character, in the sense of rigorous personal virtue, was for schmucks. What mattered was success. Even as my politics evolved, I still took it as a given that this was how the world worked, and that was how people generally were – after all, there was no lack of corroborating evidence. So: I worked really hard. I single-mindedly pursued my self-interest. I made sacrifices, and put in the time, and fought my way into my dream job and all the success I could have asked for.

And then I met the Terra Nova guys.

What struck me most about them was that even when everything was going wrong, when their expectations were shattered and they had to face the cruellest reality, they were still kind. Not backbiting, recriminating, blame-throwing, defensive, or mean, as one would expect – they were lovely to each other, patient, supportive, self-sacrificing; in fact the worse things got, the better they were. They still treated each other as friends even when it wasn’t in their self-interest, was even contrary to their self-interest. I didn’t know people could be like that. But there they were, in plain writing, being thoroughly, bafflingly, decent. Not just the Polar Party – everyone had to face their own brutal realities at some point, and they all did so with a grace I never thought possible.

It presented a very important question:

When everything goes belly-up, and you’re facing the worst, what sort of person will you be?

Or perhaps more acutely: What sort of person would you rather be with?

It was so contrary to the world I lived in, to the reality I knew – it was a peek into an alternate dimension, populated entirely with lovely, lovely people, who really, genuinely believed that “it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game,” and behaved accordingly. It couldn’t be real. There had to be a deeper, unpleasant truth: that was how the world worked, after all. I kept digging, expecting to hit bottom at some point, but I only found more gold, all the way down. How could I not spend my life on this?

Mythology exists to pass on a culture’s values, moral code, and survival information – how to face challenges and prevail. Scott’s story entered the British mythology, and had staying power, because it exemplified those things so profoundly for the culture that created and received it. But the culture changed, and there were new values; Scott’s legacy was first inverted and then cast aside. The new culture needed a new epic hero. You’d think it would be Amundsen, the epitome of ruthless success, but “Make Plan – Execute Plan – Go Home” has no mythic value, so he didn’t stick. The hero needed challenges, he needed setbacks, and he needed to win, on our terms.

Shackleton! Shackleton was a winner! Shackleton told us what we knew to be true and wanted to hear at epic volume: that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard, you will succeed! (Especially if you can control the narrative.) Scott, on the other hand, tells us that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard . . . you may nevertheless die horribly in the snow. Nobody wants to hear that! What a downer! I think it’s no coincidence that Shackleton exploded into popular culture in the late 90s and has dominated it ever since: he is the mythic hero of the zeitgeist. I am always being asked if I’ll be doing Shackleton next. He has six graphic novels already! That is plenty! But people still want to tell and be told his story, because it’s a heroic myth that validates our worldview.

That’s why I am so determined to tell the Scott story, because Scott is who we don’t realise we need right now – and Wilson, and Bowers, and Cherry, and Atch, and all the rest. The Terra Nova Expedition is the Millennials’ polar expedition. We’ve worked really hard, we’ve done everything we were supposed to, we made what appeared to be the right decisions at the time, and we’re still losing. Nothing in the mythology we’ve been fed has prepared us for this. No amount of positive attitude is going to change it. We have all the aphorisms in the world, but what we need is an example of how to behave when the chips are down, when the Boss is not sailing into the tempest to rescue us, when the Yelcho is not on the horizon. When circumstances are beyond your power to change, how do you make the best of your bad situation? What does that look like? Even if you can’t fix anything, how do you make it better for the people around you – or at the very least, not worse? Scott tells us: you can be patient, supportive, and humble; see who needs help and offer it; be realistic but don’t give in to despair; and if you’re up against a wall with no hope of rescue, go out in a blaze of kindness. We learn by imitation: it’s easy to say these things, but to see them in action, in much harder circumstances than we will ever face, is a far greater help. And to see them exemplified by real, flawed, complicated people like us is better still; they are not fairy-tale ideals, they are achievable. Real people achieved them.

My upbringing in the 80s milieu of selfishness, which set me up to receive the Scott story so gratefully, is hardly unique. There are millions of us who are hungry for a counter-narrative. My generation is desperate for demonstrations of caring, whether it’s activism or social justice or government policies that don’t abandon the vulnerable. We’ve seen selfishness poison the world, and we want an alternative. The time for competition is past; we must cooperate or perish, but we don’t know how to do it because our mythology is founded on competition. The Scott story, if told properly, explodes the Just World Fallacy, and liberates us from the lie that has ruled our lives: that you make your own luck. What happens, happens: what matters is how you respond to it. My obsession with accuracy is in part to honour the men, and in part because Cherry was the ultimate stickler and he’d give me a hard time if I didn’t, but also because, if I’m telling the story to a new generation, I’m damn well going to make sure we get that much RIGHT. It’s been really interesting to see, online, how my generation and the next have glommed onto polar exploration narratives, not as thrilling feats of derring-do, but as emotional explorations of found family and cooperative resilience. We love them because they love each other, and loving each other helps get them through, and we want – we need – to see how that’s done. It’s time to give them the Terra Nova story, and to tell it fully, fairly, and honestly, in all its complexity, because that is how their example is most useful to us. Not as gods, and not as fools, but as real human beings who were excellent to each other in the face of disaster. I only hope that I, a latecomer to their ways, can do them justice.

#scott expedition #terra nova expedition #the worst journey in the world #captain scott #polar party #robert falcon scott #birdie bowers #edward adrian wilson #bill wilson #character #millennials #polar exploration #heroic age #adventure #sociology #neoliberalism

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baskeigh-ball · 1 year

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Mutant Manhunt Masterpost

Someone asked about making a masterlist for this AU, and I was eager to make one anyway just to get everything in one place. Now that I have a decent chunk of art and info to put here, I figured this was a good time to do it so here we go

Where to start reading? My recommendation

Fanfic status (subject to change)

Comic status

Official Designs: Donnie | Leo | Mikey | Full lineup (+ Raph)

Comics (in chronological order; some of these are in other sections but oh well)

Mrs Cuddles, Master of Childhood Trauma

Draxum Spills the Beans

Manhunt Mishaps

Father-Son Bonding Time

Reunions and Introductions: April | Splinter: silly and not so silly | Mud Dogs | Cassandra Jones

Q&A + Ideas (text posts + stand-alone art)

Patient Zero (aka first post, raph concept art + basic premise)

How Raph was separated post-mutation (kinda vague)

When does the "Lou Jitsu is Splinter" reveal happen?

How Raph meets his brothers

Does Raph know Franken-Foot or Mrs Cuddles?

Raph has fans all over the Hidden City

Hidden City publicity stunts

Raph's Caretakers (he's had quite a few)

Mona Lisa When? <_<

Doodle Dump (featuring mystery crane yokai)

Tidbits

Tidbits: Electric Boogaloo

Raph's Phobias: Rabbits | Cats | Mrs Cuddles

Who Named the Mad Dogs?

How did Raphael get named Raphael?

Eldest Brother Sleeper Agent

Mad Dog trio dynamics

Leo and Donnie's sibling rivalry

Scars: Donnie's shell | (more to be added)

Raph's favorite animals

How tall is that snapper tho

Movie Events, Mutant Manhunt Style

Bug Busters: Who caught Leo? | What next?

MUD DOGS MUD DOGS MUD D

First post (random doodles that illustrate their dynamic w/ Raph)

When they gonna reunite?

Their "opinion" on Splinter

Raph's nicknames

Family Photo

Sleep Pile! (+ bonus Mad Dogs pile)

Pre-Canon Leonard

Raph's Drip: a Compilation (why is there so much)

How the hell does his outfit work (cursed info, be warned)

Local Nexus Champion bullies naked and homeless turtles, more at ten (bonus teddy bear appearance)

Mikey goes into an infodump about japanese art techniques, Leo is in shambles

Luo Jitsu merch

Mud Dogs drip

Bellboy Raph! Customer Service King!!

Now Everyone Gets Drip

Leo, Donnie, and Mikey

April, Sunita, and Cassandra

Splinter and Draxum (WIP, they're giving me so much trouble istg)

#mutant manhunt au #rottmnt #rottmnt au #i swear if i missed anything #this took. so long.

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heartfullofleeches · 7 months

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Scientist reader bites the bullet and makes a robot double of themselves for the Frankenhounds which backfired horribly for them as all their plans do-

Scientist Reader: Alright. I have built a robot that is my exact copy down to body temperatures, feel, and scents. Will you please leave me alone for two hours so I can get some real work done?

Hound 1: but master, we want you - not some dumb toy :(

Hound 2: It's insulting you think we would be persuaded so easily

Hound 3: Yay! Two masters!

Hound 4: kiss kiss kiss ki- oh.... I guess you guys don't want to see master fuck their hot clone.....

Hound 3: All in favor, raise your hands!

[Third and four raise their hands. Two clicks their tongue and huffs, but raises theirs. One stares at Reader with big eyes - raising their hand as they're elbowed by one of the others]

Scientist Reader: God, I pray I'm not banned from every bar in this town....

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere hybrid #yandere text #Franken-hounds

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frankenfartstein · 4 months

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my franken-zine (frankenstein zine) !!! also, i used song lyrics for the text so feel free to listen to the song while reading ;)

song used is problems by mother mother !

#frankenstein #victor frankenstein #the creature #frankenstein fanart #frankenstein art #i love how this turned out still so so proud #my lit teacher loved it too :’)#also dedicated to my moot !!!! <3 #ky’s epic art moments

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lcnelyghost · 1 year

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crimson river//the ahs boys period headcanons!

pairings; the ahs boys x fem reader

rating; pg13

warnings; mentions of the menstrual cycle, blood, period sex

Tate Langdon;

• Yes, he’s fully aware of what a period is. And he’s also aware that it’s something that may cause you pain, which is the one thing that Tate can’t stand seeing you in.

• He knows whenever he’s not having a good time that you usually rub small circles on his back, so this is when he returns the favour and does the exact same back to you in bed.

• Thinks it’s ridiculous that women need to go through this all for a fucking baby. His way of wording it is that the kid should suffer, not you.

Kit Walker;

• He’s willing to go anywhere to get you something that’ll soothe you’re pain. The minute you start getting cramps, he’s offski to the nearest store.

• Unlike Tate in this situation, Kit is very grateful that you’re willing to allow you’re body to let you experience this for having his kids in the near future. He knows some women have made decisions to avoid this, but you’re strong and Kit LOVES it.

• And for that, he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you’re suffering is eased slightly. No more cramps, cravings, nada.

Franken Kyle;

• The whole week he’s just really confused on why you’re getting so angry and upset quite easily.

• He ends up going to either Cordelia or someone he knows will be able to explain to him why this is happening. They inform him that he just needs to take his time with you, and try to keep you’re stress levels to a minimum.

• Kyle just goes into you’re room and gives ya one of his big old cuddles! He understands how you’re feeling, and he truly hopes a little bit of affection might cheer you up.

Jimmy Darling;

• Jimmy knows it’s a bit hard to find the necessities you’ll be needing during this time. So, he digs out a little bit of spare cash and then he’s off into town.

• He tries his best to make sure no one annoys you or waltzes into you’re trailer every five seconds. His mother slightly goes overboard, so he asks her to give you some space.

• You rely on both Jimmy and Eve through this whole week. They don’t mind at all. The two are more than happy to help you when you need it most.

Dandy Mott;

• WHAT THE FUCK DO I EVEN SAY HERE LMFSOZOJDE..

• Let’s just say, Dandy never really grew up with the ‘period talk’ and whenever his mother said ANYTHING about it, he’d scream at her and demand she stopped talking.

• You don’t see him frequently. Usually he’s in the bathroom gagging at the smell then trying to make it up to you by ordering Dora and his mother to retrieve absolutely everything you’ll be needing. It’s sickly sweet if i’m being honest.

James Patrick March;

• He’s trying his best to stop himself from insisting he be the one who’s able to soothe you’re pain.. in other ways..

• “JAMES! THAT IS ABSOLUTELY REPULSIVE!!!”

“But darling! Since when has a little blood affected me, hmm?”

• You immediately refused and he understood. Though he did say it you changed you’re mind he’d instruct Miss Evers to clean it up afterwards..

Tristan Duffy;

• No, he’s not disgusted. The only thing that’s bothering him is how fucking moody girls can be when this happens.

• He’ll sit in bed with you, trying to order some food to make you a bit happier. He manages to text someone in the hotel to bring it up to you both.

• Prepare for a week filled with cartoons and movies, because that is exactly what Tristan wants. He expects you to rest and just relax with him, snuggling together.

Rudolph Valentino;

• It’s hard for him to always be by you’re side during this week of hell. Though, if there’s times that he can be, he’ll make sure he’s there.

• Treats you with tons of expensive items, trying to make this a more happier experience for you. I suppose it’s better being treated and in pain than just being stuck in pain with no treats at all!

• He’ll look after you well. Despite him having to go out filming at certain times, he frequently contacts you so you can let him know how you’re doing.

Kai Anderson;

• Don’t even try to use this as an excuse, because Kai will literally have you pick yourself off the damn floor if it means pushing you out of bed so you’ll get up and join the cult for the day.

• Got cramps? Too bad. Kai always reminds you that you’re doing this for him and his future kids. So suck it up and act like nothing’s wrong. (SMH KAI THIS AIN’T HOW IT WORKS)

• Okay, Kai gets extremely turned on by how feisty you are whilst on you’re period. You could be yelling at the whole cult for all he cares. If it gives him pleasure, go right ahead.

Michael Langdon;

• We know for a fucking fact this man didn’t get to learn about periods before he unexpectedly aged.

• Blood doesn’t bother him. That, we’re aware of. But perhaps the smell can throw him off and make Michael a tad bit queasy.

• He obviously doesn’t know how to use a tampon, so when he finds out some women need to practically stick one up themselves, it leaves him in disbelief.

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takeyourcyanide · 5 days

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Prey

Possible TWs: Unreality, brief mention of suicide

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn, Marie Mjolnir, mentions of Azusa Yumi, Mira Naigus, and Sid Barrett

Word count: 3 315

Tags: hurt/no comfort, delirium, unreality, delusions, psychosis, confusion, dreams and nightmares, dreams vs reality, schizophrenia, madness, men crying

Summary: Stein struggles to tell dreams from reality, he struggles with the likes of paranoia and confusion, etc.

Note(s): Pushing through the static to write is like pushing through an avalanche sometimes, but it’s one of the few things I enjoy, so I do so anyway. I wanted to depict the confusion (among other things) that comes along with the static (at least for me), so I hope this comes across properly.

Anguished is he, of whom is reduced to limp and helpless prey for not only the world to seemingly feast upon, but for himself to feast fervently and rabidly upon.

<…….>

Stein had always been viewed as some sort of malevolent force; a predator.

Whether there’s any genuine truth to that statement or not, such a viewpoint spread, be it due to stigma and misconceptions, or a partial truth. Perhaps both.

Unbeknownst to the apparent entirety of everyone else was that his motives were only partially sadistic. He has ripped everything imaginable limb from limb, for the sake of ultimately satiating his scientific curiosity, as well as satiating his sadistic urges.

That same sadism extended towards himself, so it seemed, which left him to often question whether or not he was, too, a bit of a masochist.

<…….>

Stein’s computer screen blared before his eyes as though he were knocking upon the gates of heaven, though it felt much more like he had been dragged down into the deepest pit of hell; an abyss designed specifically for him.

He gazed into the array of pixels, a debilitating and delirium-inducing fog conquering him, as he felt whatever cognition had remained slipping through his lithe, pale, and trembling fingers.

It was one of the few thoughts that had ever managed to bring tears to his hollow eyes. His intellect was a treasured, a prized aspect of him; it was almost all he ever had - at least that’s what it seemed like in retrospect, as his previously excellent memory blurred and gasped for air like the ground from underneath the rubble of a massive and fallen building.

It was as though he had been a simultaneously third and first-party observing as his brain deteriorated, decomposing before his very eyes. He had been watching and psychoanalyzing as it all crashed down since utero. And from the moment he could conceptualize the neurobiological differences he was born with, he knew that, though he had refused to accept it, he had no chance at ever living.

When you begin early, you finish early.

The text of the paper on the screen appeared to morph, shifting and becoming completely different words after Stein was repeatedly forced to do multiple double-takes.

Franken sighed in mild frustration, deep and troubled as the biology normally so easy for him to comprehend became utterly indiscernible, incomprehensible, and a messy jumble of word salad. He massaged the bridge of his nose, as well as the skin in between his eyebrows in a circular motion, trying his best to remember how to breathe.

He moved his eyes to the lower right of the monitor, the clock in the corner reading ‘07:38.’

Stein’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, as he stood abruptly from his chair, shoving it away. He was almost forty minutes late to work.

He knew his ability to perceive time had been absolutely annihilated, but it never became any easier, nor did it become any less disorienting, ultimately leaving him to rub at his temples, shaking his head with a confused and feverish grimace.

He audibly groaned, lost within the hazy and murky forest with no way out.

At least he was already dressed.

<…….>

Stein trudged through the DWMA’s doors, hair unkempt and under-eyes appearing as though charcoal had been smeared upon them.

“Stein?” Spirit sounded rather confused as Stein marched into the Death Room expectantly and barely prepared to work. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I work here,” the meister’s eyebrows were furrowed, as he was stuck within a continuous and hellish state of befuddlement.

He snuck glances around the room, Lord Death and Marie staring at him with an expression of pity and concern, causing Stein to sneer.

“Don’t you remember? We’re letting you off for a little while. You should be at your lab right now,” the weapon stated, too, sounding terribly worried. Franken wished they’d simply stop pretending. It was clear they were only judging him, whispering vile things about him, mocking him when he wasn’t there to witness it.

“Oh… That wasn’t a dream?” Stein huffed, flabbergasted and unwillingly under the microscopic lenses that were their telling, needy, and greedy eyes, as even the overly bossy and critical Azusa was present in the room, along with the likes of Sid and Naigus.

Not only had it all seemed like one big dream, including the present, but it felt as though it had happened years ago - as though it were distant.

“No, Stein…. It was yesterday.”

Yesterday? What even happened yesterday?

He once again turned his head from side to side, a slow and searching motion.

He covered his face with his freezing hands, fingers spread just enough that he could see their distorting and foreign faces from in between each of them.

“Why don’t we get you home?” Spirit offered, a kind and caring gesture that was rendered nothing but conspicuous and threatening in the forest, amongst the thick and strident static.

“No.. No…. I can make it by myself,” he shakily mumbled, hands still gripping the flesh of what is supposedly his face.

“Are you sure? You don’t look well,” Death Scythe raised an eyebrow in suspicion, eyeing his former partner up and down.

And the truth was, he really didn’t. He no longer simply appeared as though he were a moving corpse anymore, he genuinely looked as though he had been mangled by some creature only days prior; his insomnia was more obvious than it had ever been, not to mention how slouched he was and how stiff his every movement was. It was as if Stein was relearning how to properly walk.

“Have I not managed to every other time?”

‘But you look like the thin, frail, and worn out thread you’ve been hardly hanging onto all your life has finally torn,’ Spirit thought to himself, exhibiting every last bit of self-control not to voice his opinion aloud.

“It’s okay to rely on people sometimes. We’re here for you. Let me take you home,” he said instead.

Stein fervently demurred against his suggestion, the very prospect of being lead back to his laboratory seemed to raise the volume of the radio.

“No. Let me go alone,” he almost pouted, his face twitching all over, as he was genuinely unsure what facial expression he should be making, and how he could even facially express what he was experiencing at all; flickering back and forth between every face, none suiting what he wanted to convey, or really, wasn’t certain he wanted to convey.

“I’m not going to let you just go alone in the state you’re in,” Stein clenched his atypically tight chest, sharp aches echoing throughout his sternum.

Spirit moved closer to the twitchy meister, not missing how Stein seemed to flinch farther away.

“Come on, Franken. Just let me walk you home, at the very least,” as the scythe peered downwards at the hand soothing over his chest, an almost sorrowful and tender glint appeared in his eyes, the volume further rising, the scientist’s ears surely leaking blood by now.

“Fine,” there was no point in continuing to stubbornly refuse the weapon’s proposal. Even if he left by his lonesome, the weapon would surely be knocking on his steel doors come nightfall.

A small smile made its way on Spirit’s face, as he replied gently with, “Well, all right, then.”

<…….>

The incessant, persistent, all-encompassing noise rose to unprecedented levels as he walked side by side with Mr. Suit and Tie, refusing to even so much as peek at his skinsuit.

Agitation spread throughout his body like cancer, overtaking his motor skills, leaving him squirmy, irritable, impatient, and robotic; only further exacerbated by the snickering and obnoxiously refulgent sun.

It left him childishly desiring to fall to the ground and throw a tantrum, to kick and to scream cacophonously, to sob and hiccup, and cross his arms over his ever-tightening chest, as he bit into the plush skin of his bottom lip as a distraction.

The static combined with the luminous summer day, combined with not being in control of his own decisions due to certain people believing him to be “unstable” was simply all too much; overstimulating.

Everything was too furiously hot and yet too frigid simultaneously; too loud and too quiet. All of that, not even including how his day clothes were brushing against his skin, feeling too small and too big, itchy and too smooth at the same time. It was as though the turtleneck, one of the few articles of clothing he didn’t refuse to wear, was suddenly strangling him; even his coat was now too heavy upon his shoulders, too clunky. It was all much too clunky.

And then Spirit pushed the creaky doors open.

Stein’s hands immediately flew up to cover his ears for the brief moment the sound reverberated, pathetic tears welling up in his eyes as he burned holes in his shoes.

He dug his teeth even further into his lip, wincing at the shooting pain that action garnered.

“Stein? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you coming inside?” Albarn softly and confusedly questioned, standing halfway inside of the laboratory. “Why are you staring at the floor?”

Stein’s hands were still cupped over his ears, moving upwards and yanking on his hair, his expression petulant as Spirit was finally able to get a semi-decent look at him.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that, why are you crying?” A tiny sob fell out from the normally resilient and unnervingly apathetic meister’s mouth, Spirit’s eyes widening, his arms rising aimlessly as he scrambled for anyway to comfort the male.

Stein rolled his inner cheek between his teeth, eagerly hoping to muffle his blubbering as he knew Spirit and everyone else who happened to hear about his little moment of weakness would take advantage of him in some way.

But that particular train of though only seemed to make him cry harder, the ball swirling in his chest tightening to the point of explosion; similarly to a taut rubber band tying around his heart, compressing and compressing until the organ itself exploded into an internally bloody mess.

The hands previously pulling at his hair once again fell to his chest, gripping and grappling, as Stein forgot how to properly inhale and exhale, his breaths unsteady, but not to the point of hyperventilation.

A certain fear he wasn’t sure he had ever felt rose within him, beating against the confines of his muscles, skeleton, his flesh to escape.

“Come on, why don’t we get inside? Wouldn’t that make you feel better?” Spirit placed a perturbed hand on Stein’s shuddering shoulder, of whom leaped backwards. “I’m sorry, I won’t touch you again.”

The corners of the scientist’s mouth twitched wildly, almost as though it were attempting a smile, tears still freely running down his rosy cheeks.

He smacked a hand over his mouth, folding in on himself, practically convulsing as uncontrollable and unfitting giggles escaped his mouth vigorously, nearly choking attempting to cease his own unwanted laughter.

The foreboding expression mixed with, danced with the cracking grin, as he glanced over at Spirit, a horrified and vulnerable look in his eyes.

The disquietude contorting Spirit’s countenance had seemingly been, though certainly not entirely, assuaged by something, as he returned to his former position partially inside of the lab.

“Can you make it in here on your own, or do you need help?” His voice was hushed, but rather sweet in a way Franken had never heard from the man before.

He put one foot in front of the other whilst laughing uproariously, Albarn pursing his lips as the manic giggles filled his ears like a disconcerting and scratched record.

The record shrieking, bellowing from the speakers of the old radio had risen in volume to the point of no return. And all Stein could do in the face of the growing and clamoring shadows was weep and cackle. He was now to be laid out for the entirety of the desert to know and scrutinize.

And though he never once cared about a singular person’s opinion of him, the viewpoints of the flowing river rushing with what may as well be a liquidized form of the status quo would always sway the viewpoint’s of others, effectively sweeping the already swept rug right out from underneath him.

“Do you wanna sit on the couch? Or.. I think it would be a good idea if you tried to get a nap,” Stein’s visage was blank in emotion, only a few tears left to roll, his mouth closed shut despite the tittering attempting to flow out like a stream of water. It admittedly appeared rather… interesting to anyone who wasn’t the meister, as his figure shook with what could be mistaken as mirth, while no other aspect of him followed suit.

Stein shrugged his shoulders in response, standing awkwardly as though he was a guest in his own house.

“Come on,” he waved the meister over. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

He apprehensively objected the notion, standing still, the laughter slowly but surely dying down.

“Why not?” The ginger prodded as if he truly believed he would be given a verbal elucidation. “…… Okay, why don’t we just sit down, then?”

Stein obeyed, moving to plop down onto the sofa, a falling sensation holding his body hostage. He felt himself being pulled down as if he had dived off of a building; a random suicidal whim, an impulse. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to those.

<…….>

Stein’s eyes shot open as he caught his breath, his face oddly moist and his body drenched with sweat.

He was breathing fast and hard, his heart pumping, banging against his sore chest; something of which seldom happened.

He lifted his quivering fingers, dabbing them onto his cheeks, as if to take a sample.

Upon observation, upon even licking the salty liquid from off of his fingers for the sole sake of clarity, it was safe to determine that he was crying.

Stein squinted his eyes, scanning the room, his vision blurred undoubtedly from the tears, though it was possible he also needed the aid his glasses offered him.

He patted around his bed and his nightstand in search of the aforementioned glasses, only to find that he had fallen asleep with his frames on his face, lenses covered in the same wetness covering his fingers.

He cleaned the lenses with his shirt, jittery and with an aching stomach and head.

‘Was that a dream? No… That just happened yesterday, didn’t it? Or was it a week ago? How much of that did and did not happen? When…? No,’ the endless misty haze of confusion seemed to torture him endlessly as he placed his glasses beside him.

He needed a shower. And the very thought of standing in the mirrored room paralyzed him; the same room with the camera-filled vents. Though all of his rooms had that… They were most likely selling the videos they’d take of his most vulnerable and private moments to strangers… His body was to be passed around and enjoyed, wasn’t it?

He bit at his fingers, even unconsciously suckling on them at the volume rose impossibly and impressively more so.

But he had work to accomplish, not even just at the academy - or did they actually temporarily suspend him from his duties? Was that just the dream?

Stein threw the covers from off of his body. Evidently he’d need to wash the sheets as well, given how soaked they were.

Exhausting nightmares were all he had anymore.

<…….>

The warm water trickled down Stein’s neck, falling smoothly from his collarbone, and down to his thoracic and abdominal cavities, making rounds around his thighs, and pooling under his feet.

He stood there, immobilized by nothing at all for a moment. It was almost as if, though not quite, he was not allowed to move, to control his own extremities.

He pondered for a moment those ghastly and ghostly beings which followed him into the bathroom, never allowing him even a fraction of time to himself, and how, while he often wished for them to disappear, he hadn’t a single clue as to what he’d do without them.

The static sung hell-born lullabies to him, words of the shadows culminating inside of his skull like echoes of the distant past, or of an imminent and inevitable future; a reminder that the present would never be his to own. Even his own thoughts were not to ever belong to him.

He was within its domain, born seated upon its throne, for it was, too, his, as he was ‘it’ and ‘it’ was him - simultaneously, still, existing as almost separate entities; the predator and the prey, except in this particular falsified, quasi-play, the predator’s prey just so happened to be the predator itself.

Stein managed to twitch his middle finger.. Then his ring, then his pointer, his pinky, and his thumb.

He relearned how to contract his muscles, how to outstretch his arms, as he began to move.

He’d rub shampoo and conditioner in his hair, scratching the shampoo into his scalp, and observing as it seeped through his follicles and into his body just as the noise had.

His heart did not pump the same blood as everyone else’s. That much was apparent. And he could not force it to. Was he to give in to the forest? Did he have a choice in the matter?

<…….>

Stein trudged once more throughout the cobblestone streets, seeking answers.

He pushed the academy doors open, a few curious glances coming his way as students and staff alike whispered amongst one another. He didn’t always mind such attention, as a matter of fact, he often found it rather amusing. At times, he could even find himself being partial to it. But in times such as this, times when it fed the avalanche raining down in his mind, he wished everyone would simply forget he ever existed. He wished passionately that he were the invisible observer he often forgot that he wasn’t.

“Spirit,” Stein called out into the Death Room, even more bewildered glances given to him.

“Stein?” The scythe sounded so surprised to see the man, he had to wonder why.

“Have I been suspended already?” He asked the question as though it were the most urgent and important of questions.

“Stein… You were let off over a week ago. Don’t you remember?”

Those words resounded within Stein, echoing and bouncing off the walls as the world around him spun, crumbling down as the very fabric of reality tore apart.

“It was a week?” Stein choked out, his eyes bulging out from their sockets, his ears ringing inharmoniously.

He whipped his head around the whole room, covering his face just as he had in the dream, moving his hands to the sides of his head, as he stood with both of his legs in his reality and a mere fingertip in their reality.

What?

“What day is it again?”

“It’s the twenty-sixth of July,” Marie helpfully answered, sounding awfully concerned. “It’s a Thursday.”

Stein ripped his hands away from his head, pulling them back down and peering at them. Was he even real? Were they real? Were they demons wearing the skin of his friends? What was going on? Where was he, truly? Who was he?

And most importantly,

how did he last this long in the first place?

It had become overwhelmingly apparent over the years that he was the strongest person he knew.

But being the strongest never guarantees you’ll survive on the battlefield. No matter who you are, you’re more likely to die a gruesome and empty death than not. A death in which you are left to rot. And that had also become abundantly clear to Stein.

He knew it. He had always known it.

He wasn’t going to make it to thirty.

<——————>

An incredibly fitting song:

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