#I almost missed this last one because I had to go to the latest version of the website available to get it

[stravagatefaster]

Under the Walls

The following short story written by Mary Hoffman is from the official Stravaganza-website, which doesn't exist anymore. It is accessible through the Wayback Machine, but I am uploading the short stories here to a) act as a secondary archive and b) to make them accessible to fans. If this story is ever re-published somewhere or I am asked to delete it, I will do so. This post will be unrebloggable, but feel free to link to it if you wish to add comments/discuss the story. I do not own the story, and it is directly copy-pasted from the old website. (Sorry for the weird question marks in place of quotes, that's how the text looked like on the website)

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Carlo di Chimici* was not a happy man. His older brother, Fabrizio,* had made himself Duke of Giglia, married and produced four sons in quick succession. It was quite clear that he saw himself as the head of the family in waiting, as soon as their father was dead. Their two surviving sisters hardly counted; women were not important in the powerful di Chimici family. Their role was to look beautiful and produce children, preferably sons.

Carlo had a beautiful wife himself — Eleanora — who had presented him with a son as their first child, and then a daughter. But there were also some lost babies and no other son had graced their marriage. It was looking now as if there would be no more.

So little Jacopo — now aged four — was very precious. But what was he to inherit? Some son of Fabrizio would have Giglia and it was clear that the family was expected to take over more Talian cities, to create more mini-dynasties for generations of di Chimici Dukes and Princes to rule.

?It was easy for Fabrizio,? Carlo grumbled to his wife one hot night in the summer of 1459. ?We live here in Giglia. Strictly speaking our father should have been Duke before my brother was but he just sat back and let my brother have all the power and the title too.?

?Your father is old, dearest,? said Eleanora. ?And tired. He was happy to hand the business over to you and your brother.?

?Huh, there is not much for me to do,? said Carlo. ?Father and Fabrizio have it all wrapped up between them.?

It was true that he did work in the family perfume business but he never felt truly at home there. His father and brother were branching out and becoming bankers to the great houses of Europa, the family wealth growing day by day. But Carlo saw himself more as a man of action and he was restless.

Then one day he was sent with an order of perfume to a city he had never visited before. It was north and west of Giglia and was called Fortezza. It was the best place in Talia to buy a new sword and he came with a commission from his brother to buy him a new weapon, once the perfume business had been completed.

I wonder, thought Carlo. Could I make this city mine?

But he had no idea how to do it, except that it would take a lot of money; and, although he had a fine palazzo in Giglia and plenty of money to buy himself a new sword, he didn?t have the sort of wealth that would enable a young man to buy himself a city.

He was in a swordsmith?s workshop when a sweating messenger tracked him down.

?Back to Giglia, Signor,? the man gasped out. ?Your father . . .?

Carlo didn?t wait for the rest of the message. It could mean only one thing. He ran back to his lodgings, gathered up his things and was back in the saddle before the messenger had properly recovered his breath.

The miles fell away under his horse?s hooves but by the time they clattered into the courtyard of the Giglian palazzo, it was already too late. Alfonso di Chimici was dead.

Fabrizio, the newly minted Duke of Giglia, was pacing the salone.

?Ah, brother! You are back.?

The men embraced awkwardly, feeling it was expected of them, while their sad-eyed mother looked on.

Within days in that hot summer, old Alfonso had been buried and mourned.

And then Carlo found himself suddenly rich. He had not had any idea until then how much wealth his father had amassed. Even with dowries for his sisters, Francesca and Lucia, and the substance of the perfume and banking businesses being left in Fabrizio?s hands, there remained an impressive sum for the younger son.

He went straight to his brother?s palazzo and had himself admitted to Fabrizio?s study.

?I need your advice,? he said abruptly. ?I want to leave Giglia and try my luck in a new city.?

?Where will you go?? asked Fabrizio.

Carlo noticed he was not going to try to persuade him to stay.

?I want to return to Fortezza,? he said. ?Now that I have inherited some money, there are things I could do there.?

He didn?t specify what but Carlo had decided: if Fabrizio was going to be a duke with a banking business, he would become a military man with an army, a soldier-prince perhaps.

Carlo set off for Fortezza soon afterwards, leaving Eleanora and the children in the care of his mother.

In a very few months, the Signoria of Fortezza became sympathetic to this vigorous man and his schemes to protect the city, particularly since he was offering to pay for them all.

Carlo di Chimici drew up plans for a massive castle, to be known as the Rocca di Chimici, and, while the foundations were being laid, he set about recruiting soldiers for a permanent standing army.

It took two years for the mighty Rocca to be built and it was a proud day when Carlo moved Eleanora and their son and daughter into it. Little Jacopo was six now and was given a wooden sword. His sister Beatrice was only four and easily menaced by her brother.

Jacopo ran up and down the battlements of the curtain wall, waving his sword and uttering bloodcurdling battle cries.

Privately, Eleanora thought the castle was far from elegant, but she said nothing to dampen her husband?s pride in it and it certainly did feel very safe and well defended. Although she didn?t know exactly what it needed defending against.

As for Carlo, he felt he had found his mission in life, defending his family and what he increasingly thought of as ?his? city.

It wasn?t long before he was elected the Signore of the Signoria and effectively Fortezza?s leader.

They had never had a noble family to lead them before and the di Chimici were building up a power centre in Giglia such as Talia had never known before. And lots of that di Chimici fortune was coming Fortezza?s way, what with the building of the castle, the creation of an army and lots of work for the city?s famous weapon-makers.

The members of the Stonemasons? Guild came to the Signoria with a proposal: now that the di Chimici castle was finished and was clearly such a strong fortress, would the governing body approve the building of walls all around the city itself?

The Signore, Carlo di Chimici, was all in favour and willing to pay half the cost himself so the proposal was soon passed and before long, an artist was approached to design the city?s fortifications.

Mariano Matrielli was a sculptor and painter who had lately come to be known by the newly defined skill of engineer. He was a testy and difficult individual but superb at what he did.

Carlo summoned Matrielli to the Rocca.

?Well, what do you have in mind?? asked the artist, not at all overawed by his surroundings in the great red salone of the Rocca.

?Walls to surround the city,? said Carlo, happy to meet another man who didn?t beat about the bush.

?All the way round? Continuous walls?? said Matrielli, rubbing his hands. He was beginning to get interested in this commission.

?Well, yes. But we?ll need some gates, and a moat, and I suppose some guardhouses — maybe some prison cells too.?

?You are expecting trouble? Some invasion or siege??

That was the trouble. There was no threat that Carlo knew of to Fortezza. He just liked the idea of an impregnable city — one that he could rule.

?It is always good to be prepared,? he said.<

BR>?I agree,? said Matrielli. It made no difference to him, as long as he was being paid and had a free hand in the design.

He was back a week later with drawings that took Carlo?s breath away.

Massive walls with twelve heavy bulwarks set evenly into them and so wide across the top that a platoon of soldiers could march twelve abreast!

With defences like these Fortezza would surely live up to its name and never be conquered. And there were tunnels inside the walls leading to banks of prison cells. And guardhouses in each bulwark and in the space above the main gate, which was not near the castle.

?Magnificent!? said Carlo di Chimici. ?I shall take them to the Signoria for approval but can?t imagine they will be anything except delighted.?

?Of course, if my plans are approved, I shall need a large sum of money to order materials and start hiring men.?

?Of course,? said Carlo. ?There will be no problem about that.?

He had recently heard that the King of Anglia had repaid a massive loan from the di Chimici bank in Giglia, together with considerable interest on the original sum.

The massive bastions were to be built first but before work could begin on their foundations, the old walls, now seeming very inadequate, had to be pulled down and the land outside the city cleared and levelled. Vast teams of labourers were employed in the city and the whole of Fortezza was abuzz about the walls and Matrielli?s grand designs.

At last it was nearly time for the foundation stone to be laid.

The week before, a visitor came to see Carlo one night He was a strange figure in a cowled robe and would not give his name. The only reason he was admitted was that he said he had an urgent message for the Signore about the coming ceremony.

?Who are you?? asked Carlo.

?My name is not important,? said the man.

?Reveal your face then.?

?My face is not important either. Do you want to hear my message or not??

?Say what you have to and get out,? said Carlo. ?You have already tried my patience.?

?These walls of yours,? said the man. ?Do you want them to keep out enemies??

?What a ridiculous question! Of course.?

?Then there is one more thing you need to do.?

Carlo felt uneasy; there was something sinister about this man and yet he had a compelling presence that was hard to ignore.

?This is a Tuschian city, built on the remains of one built by our ancestors, the Rassenans,? the figure continued.

?I know its history,? snapped Carlo.

?History comes with responsibility,? said the stranger. ?If you do not complete the rituals, the project will not thrive. However strong they seem, the walls will not keep out the enemy.?

Carlo felt his throat dry; he was not going to like these rituals, he was sure.

?What are you saying we should do?? he asked, more calmly than he felt.

?Blood,? said the man. ?The foundations need blood. You must find a sacrifice.?

For all that he was a man of action, Carlo did not like the unnecessary shedding of blood.

?An animal, you mean?? he said. ?A cockerel or a goat??

?Something bigger,? said the visitor. ?A man. Remember — without it the walls will fail.?

Then he turned abruptly and left the salone. It was almost as if he had disappeared.

?Stop him!? cried Carlo to his guards. But it was too late. Of the hooded man there was no sign.

Carlo spent a restless night. Of course what the man had suggested was out of the question. The official foundation ceremony had already been arranged and would not include even an animal sacrifice, let alone a human one. The very idea was preposterous.

And yet Carlo, like many Talians, was deeply superstitious and also eager to impress the citizens and Signoria with these walls. He was hoping they would agree to make him the city?s prince.

He was seriously thinking of postponing the ceremony.

And then a solution seemed to open up. A murder suddenly seemed to give Carlo a way out.

A man had killed his wife in a jealous rage; this was unusual for Fortezza, whose citizens were fairly peaceful. And, as it turned out, the woman had been blameless. Her husband had been condemned to death and was deeply penitent of the crime.

Was there a chance that the execution could be carried out at the site of the first tower and the body buried under the foundations? The man was going to die anyway; why not use him to appease the gods of the Rassenans? Carlo thought this could be the answer but still he didn?t know how to suggest it to the authorities.

His wife was beginning to worry about him. Carlo slept badly, was hardly eating, had taken to gnawing at the side of his thumbnail and was always distracted. He took hardly any notice of the children. Eleanora just couldn?t think what could be the matter. His building plans were going well, there was the beginning of a fine army and the family had settled well into their new home in the Rocca — even though for her part she would have preferred an elegant house in Giglia.

And then the Manoush entered the city.

In their colourful and glittering clothes, with long hair streaming and music playing, the group of wanderers passed easily across the ditch that had been dug around Fortezza in preparation for a moat. Citizens hesitated on the rickety plank bridges that had been thrown over the gap but this exotic group just flowed across, not missing a step of their dance.

Their leader was a tall woman, her long dark hair streaked with silver and threaded with ribbons. She was leading her people into the cathedral square when Carlo di Chimici, not looking where he was going, bumped into her.

?I?m sorry, Signora,? he said. ?I had my mind on something else. Please forgive me.?

?I can see that,? said the Manoush, scrutinising his face with her dark, intelligent eyes. ?You are troubled about something.?

She signalled to her people, who dispersed about the square.

?Would you like to tell me what it is??

And Carlo had the strangest feeling that he would like to tell this person, that she might even be able to help him.

They went into a tavern and he ordered wine for them both. Within minutes he had told her who he was, his plans for the city, and about the mysterious stranger who had told him of the bloodthirsty ceremony he should carry out.

?I have heard of him before,? said the woman, who had introduced herself as Daria Vivoide. ?And whenever I have heard of him, the word has not been good.?

?But is he right? Will all my plans come to nothing without this gruesome ritual? I have been going mad thinking of it. How can I tell the Signoria that we must mix human blood with the mortar or Fortezza?s enemies will be able to breach the walls??

?It is good to respect the old gods,? said the woman slowly. ?My people do not build cities — we are nomads. But I have heard of a ritual that might replace this cruel custom and still appease the local deities.?

Carlo felt hope for the first time.

?But it would not be without danger for the person who carried it out. It would be best done by one who does not expect to live long.?

Carlo told her about the murderer.

The day for laying the foundation stone dawned pearly-clear and cloudless. Long before the official party assembled at the site of the first bastion, Carlo di Chimici met a small group of masons, the engineer Matrielli and a few brightly-clothed people, including Daria Vivoide.

Soon afterwards a party of guards came from the jail, leading the wife-murderer in chains.

The wretched man shuffled along, his head down, as if expecting the worst.

Matrielli stepped forward with two workmen and moved the prisoner to a deep trench. The morning sun shone on him, throwing his shadow across the hole. The two workmen, directed by Matrielli and the Manoush, took the measure of it with a length of rope and then Carlo stepped forward.

?Throw the rope into the trench,? he ordered. ?And release the prisoner.?

The man rubbed his wrists and looked into the eyes of his rescuer. Carlo had explained the risks to him.

?I am free to go?? he asked.

?Absolutely free,? said Carlo. ?As long as you do not return to Fortezza.?

He put a cloak around the man?s shoulders, gave him a small bag of silver, and sent him on his way.

The little party watched as the murderer walked away, staggering at first and then straightening up, until he was a just a small figure in the distance — like a child?s sketch of a man.

?Do you really think it will work?? Carlo whispered to the Manoush.

?It is the civilised way,? said Daria. ?Once he would have been thrust into the foundations and buried alive. But the old cruel rites are being replaced over Europa. The burying of a man?s shadow will satisfy the gods but it is still likely he will be dead within forty days.?

?He told me he wouldn?t care,? said Carlo. ?He killed his wife. His children hate him. And it will be forty more days of life than he would have had. He was due to be executed today,?

Carlo heaved a big sigh.

?Thank you for your help,? he told the Manoush.

?Now, can we get on with the real ceremony?? asked Matrielli.

?As soon as I?ve had some breakfast,? said Carlo. He suddenly felt ravenously hungry. ?Come and have breakfast with me,? he said with an expansive gesture, including the engineer and the Manoush. ?We can?t start such an important enterprise on an empty stomach.?

Carlo cast one look back in the direction of the condemned man. Was it his imagination or were there now two figures on the horizon? It seemed to him that the first man had been joined by another, wearing a hooded robe, but it was too far away to see clearly.

He turned towards the Rocca, his heart lighter than it had been for many days.

* The Fabrizio and Carlo di Chimici of this story are not the ones we know from City of Stars onwards. They are the sons of the first founder of the di Chimici dynasty, as you can see from the di Chimici family tree.

[hd-erised]

We are over halfway through @hd-erised—isn't that exciting? It's been another fantastic week filled with art and fic and, as always, we hope you've been enjoying the fabulous submissions!

We hope you'll  take a moment to check out anything you might have missed this week, and don't forget to check our Week 1 and Week 2 round-ups for even more goodies. And, of course, please don't forget to leave a comment for our lovely artists and writers who make this fest the incredible experience that it is!! <3

Art:

Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

Fic:

Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn't say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn't that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn't worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

Old love don't rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can't help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn't suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet's most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry's beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he'd bargained for.

Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

[satureja13]

Why Vlad and Ji Ho wear the same sleeping shirts Extended Version - Part 2 Part 1 is -> here

Jack: "My last hope for the washer dilemma was Saiwa. He was running the Strawberry Cake Fashion online store together with Noxee and he had to know how to - cheaply - replace Vlad's clothes (and some of his too...). So I told him the whole story..."

Jack: "Sai stilled in his movements for a few seconds. Stunned - staring into nowhere. Trying to process. Then he said: 'RUN!' and I ran. Sai chased me around a bit, as always. We got a bit of fresh air, cleared our heads and eventually he got tired, calmed down and we went back."

Jack: "He sat again, hissed and vented on a bit about how exhausting it was not being able to let me do the easiest stuff without worrying I would burn the house down. I just let him because that's just how he deals with stuff."

Sai got sad when he thought of the old days: "I know I shouldn't have been mad and yelled at you, it's not your fault you're like this." Jack hugged Sai: "Don't worry, hm? Those were hard times we went through, and you were busy with all your jobs and stuff. I know you don't mean it."

Jack went on with the story: "And since he'd missed so much work that had to be done while chasing me around and having to deal with my chaos, Sai just sent me the link to the site where he usually ordered the clothes for their store so I could look for some cheap replacements for the clothes I'd destroyed. Vlad's trousers and dress shirts weren't that cheap and I'd almost used up our budget. Luckily for me, Sai refused to get his destroyed clothes replaced and I found a whole pack of black sleeping shirts at a stunning discount. I asked Sai if he'd be ok with us wearing all the same shirts, and even though he was picky about his clothes, he said no one's going to see us anyway at night and plain black shirts are just fine and I should go for it. And then I clicked the button..."

Jack: "The clothes I'd ordered took a while to get delivered and the next days had been busy with Ji Ho moving in and hiding Vlad and him from each other (because we'd had a tiny little misunderstanding ö.Ö'). But finally the parcels were there! Vlad's pants and dress shirts were fine, just like ordered. But the sleeping shirts... Sai took one look at them and was sure Vlad would freak out and never wear them. And we couldn't send them back since it was a remaining stock - excluded from exchange. Poor Sai cursed himself because he didn't check back my order even though he knew he shouldn't let me do stuff all by myself..."

Jack: "Sai was at the end of his wits: Sai: 'We have no money left to order other ones. What are we supposed to do? Vlad is going to kill us!' "

Vlad didn't like where this was going but he didn't interrupt. This whole rambling was already going on for much too long - and he finally wanted to hear the end of it.

to be continued...

'My baby may not be rich He's watchin' every dime But he loves me, loves me, loves me We always have a real good time And maybe he sings off key But that's alright by me, yeah

'Cause what he does, he does so well Makes me wanna yell

Let's hear it for the boy Ah, let's give the boy a hand Let's hear it for my baby You know you gotta understand Oh, maybe he's no Romeo But he's my lovin' one-man show Oh, whoa-oa-oa Let's hear it for the boy'

Let's hear it for the Boy - Deniece Williams (I imagine Noxee and Jack in the MV ^^') OST from Footloose

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - prologue | high tide came and brought you in

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 1.5k

summary: you and ben have been best friends since you were kids. there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, including pretending to be his girlfriend to help his career when his public image has taken a hit. what’s the worst that can happen?

A/N: hi everyone! welcome to my latest ben fic! thanks to everyone who voted in the poll i made recently, ultimately i couldn’t decide so ended up going with both fake dating and friends to lovers lol. the title is from this love by taylor swift (taylor’s version obvi) <3

view all chapters

When you woke up today, becoming Ben Chilwell’s girlfriend is the last thing you would’ve expected to happen. Short of an alien invasion or a complete nuclear apocalypse, there is hardly any conceivable scenario that you would’ve had a harder time believing.

The day starts like any other.

You wake up after hitting snooze a couple times then hurry to get ready for work. You don’t have time to make coffee at home, so you grab a latte and a bagel from Pret on your way to the hospital.

It’s a typical, stressful day in the life of an A&E nurse, with a few major traumas coming in and the usual NHS understaffing issues.

You have lunch with your favourite coworker talk close friend Valerie, who you met in uni, and talked shit about your least favourite coworkers while eating mediocre salads from the cafeteria.

By the end of the day, you’re totally exhausted, practically dragging your feet as you walk up the stairs to your flat and collapse on the couch.

You’ve just mustered the energy to change into your pyjamas when there’s a knock on your door, and you excitedly run over to grab your dinner.

Unfortunately, it isn’t the Indian takeaway you’ve ordered waiting for you on the other side, it’s your best friend Ben.

“I thought you were Indian food,” you groan.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Ben chuckles as you step aside to let him in and he kicks off his shoes. “Tough day?”

“Long day,” you reply, walking back over to your couch and plopping down as Ben walks into your kitchen to get a drink, making himself at home.

You and Ben have been best friends since you were six, when you and your family moved and you started at the same primary school as him. He was the first kid to show you some kindness by asking if you wanted to join him and his mates for a game of football at recess. Obviously, at the time you couldn’t have predicted that the childhood pastime would turn into a massively successful career for him.

You two grew closer over the years and remained close even when he started at Leicester’s academy and you didn’t get to spend nearly as much time together. You almost never missed a home game, regardless of if it was a friendly in the academy days or a monumental Champions League match once he made it to Chelsea.

Likewise, Ben has always been there for you, supporting you as you worked your butt off to make it through uni and get your nursing certification. He was elated when you landed a job at a hospital in London not long after he signed with Chelsea, immediately offering you a spare bedroom.

Although you did take him up on that offer for a couple months while you saved up and looked for a decent flat, you eventually got your own place to be closer to work. And because you found that guys you went out with were either threatened or way too excited when they found out you lived with a Premier League footballer.

You’ve both been living in London for about three years now, and while you’ve made your fair share of friends in the city, there is something special about the bond you have with Ben. He knows you better than anyone else, just as you know him, and hanging out with him always feels right.

He feels like home.

Ben joins you on the couch with two beers he stole from your fridge, one of which he passes to you.

You raise an eyebrow, accepting the drink and taking a sip. “Since when are you allowed to drink the week of a game?”

“I’m just having one,” Ben retorts, kicking his feet up on your coffee table. “I’ve had a long day, too.”

“Oh, right, the PR meeting was today,” you recall. “How did it go?”

“Not great,” he sighs. “Do you think I’m a man whore?”

You nearly spit out your beer, trying very hard not to laugh as Ben looks at you with complete earnestness.

“Well, um, I wouldn’t say it like that,” you chuckle. “But…”

“Oh my god,” Ben groans. “If my best friend thinks that, no wonder my publicist says my image is shit.”

Frankly, Ben’s reputation has been better. Lately, he’s been spotted with more models and influencers than you can keep track of, none of whom stick around for very long. The media has been loving it, branding him as Chelsea’s resident playboy and splashing photos of him leaving clubs with beautiful women all over the tabloids.

You try not to judge, as it’s none of your business who Ben hooks up with, but you do think it’s a bit unlike him to be so reckless about it. Nevertheless, you’ve kept those thoughts to yourself.

“Isn’t that sort of the norm for footballers, though?” you question. “I mean, it’s not like a cheating scandal or something. Some of those guys are way worse than you, at least from what I’ve seen online.”

“Yeah, but according to Shreya, my publicist, times are changing and people don’t like the playboy shit anymore. Apparently I would have more luck getting brand deals and stuff if I seemed more…wholesome.”

You love Ben, but you struggle to see the man who proudly told you he left Jack Grealish’s party with two girls a few weeks ago as wholesome.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask, taking another sip of beer. “Be more discreet with your hookups?”

“Not exactly,” Ben replies. “The team thinks…and I know this sounds crazy, but they want me to get a girlfriend. Well, a fake one. Someone to improve my image.”

You can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation, and Ben narrows his eyes at you.

“God, I didn’t know famous people actually did that,” you say, trying to hold back your laughter. “Who’s she gonna set you up with? Please say it’s Taylor Swift. She’s single now!”

Ben laughs for a moment before setting his beer down on the table and turning to face you with a slightly more serious expression on his face.

“Actually, they had someone else in mind,” he says sheepishly. “Someone I already know.”

“Who is it?” you ask, trying to rack your brain to think of what girls Ben knows that would improve his image. Outside of his family and his mates’ girlfriends, you’re pretty much the only woman who is a constant presence in his life. “Wait, are you - don’t tell me you’re asking me?”

Ben pauses for a moment before hesitantly nodding, looking a bit as though he’s afraid you’re going to hit him. Which, frankly, you’re considering.

“The PR team asked if I knew any girls that would work and Mark started going on and on about how you’re my best friend and a nurse and they all said you would be perfect-“

“Ben, I can’t date you!” you exclaim, cursing his agent, Mark, for even suggesting something so absurd. “Who would even believe that?”

“We don’t need people who know us to believe it, just the public,” he states. “And you don’t have to actually date me, we just have to pretend in public for a couple months.”

“I know, but…”

“Please, Y/N?” Ben says, looking at you with wide eyes that you’ve found hard to resist since he was using them to get your extra biscuits in fourth year. “I know it’s a weird request, but it could really help me out.”

It’s really hard to say no to that. Ben has always been there for you in every way imaginable. He once flew to Leeds, where you went to uni, on a moment’s notice because you were stressing over finals and needed a friend. A couple years into his time at Leicester, your dad lost his job and Ben insisted upon covering your parents’ mortgage for six months to help out, claiming he “owed them for all the Sunday roasts” and refusing to accept repayment even when your dad found work again.

He would never use any of that as a bargaining chip or try to cash in a favour, but you really do feel as though you owe him one. And more importantly, you want to help him.

“Okay,” you sigh. “I’ll be your stupid fake girlfriend or whatever.”

“Really?” Ben’s face lights up and he pulls you into a tight hug. “Thank you so much. God, you’re a lifesaver.”

You hug him back just as tightly, breathing in his familiar scent - a mix of his aftershave with a bit of grass and something else.

“You’re welcome,” you say, rolling your eyes slightly as you pull back. “I feel like I’m gonna regret this.”

“You won’t, I promise,” Ben assures you. “I’ll give you a cut when I land the next big brand deal, how’s that?”

“Ew, no, that makes me feel a bit prostitutey,” you chuckle. “It’s just a favour, no need to compensate me. Although you can pay for the food when it gets here, since you’re gonna end up stealing half of it anyways.”

“Deal,” he grins, grabbing your TV remote and putting on an episode of New Girl you’ve both seen before.

As you settle in with your beers and samosas, laughing at the television together, you can’t help but wonder what you’ve just signed up for.

Oh well. What’s the worst that could happen?

A/N: i hope you enjoyed this first part, please let me know what you thought!! should have the next up soon! 💕 (also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!)

[amethysts-tavern]

Gifts

Astarion x Tav: gender neutral, no physical description or class mention. Written for the BG3 Holiday Fluffle.

You had always admired Astarion for being able to pick locks and disarm traps. One day at camp you ask him if he’d teach you. He was reluctant at first, thinking it was a waste of time since he’d be there to unlock anything you needed. But when you said that you might need to pick a lock to get out of jail or shackles or some other tight spot, he was more than happy to oblige.

Astarion lends you a set of thieves tools. They are rusty and pitted. One pick was missing its tip. Two tools were missing altogether and the straps holding the kit together had worn off a long time ago. But it’s what you had available and would be fine for a beginner to play around with.

As the weeks worn on, Astarion would bring you increasingly complicated locks during your sessions and talk you through them. His latest was giving you trouble. You’d been stuck on it for a week.

“No, no, the pick goes here,” Astarion points his finger at a cog in the lock, leaning over your shoulder to do so. “Then it’s a counter-clockwise twist with the screw.”

“Harumph!” you huff, dropping your tools. “Why is this so hard?!”

“You can do this Tav, you’re just getting flustered. Let’s reset it and try again,” Astarion reaches for the lock.

“No, I’m done. I’ve hit my wall with this,” you start to stand up, but Astarion pushes your shoulders down so you can’t.

“Tav, when you came to me to learn this stuff, you were worried that you’d need to use it in a real emergency. Do you think Gortash uses beginner locks? You have to learn this. I need you to learn this,” Astarion says, sitting down next to you. “Besides, you’re going to need it if you want to open your Christmas present,” he says, pulling out an ornate box with inlays in the shape of a goose. The box has tiny locks all around its edge. Astarion hands it to you.

You take the box and gingerly turn it over in your hands. The contents rattle a bit when you turn it upside down.

“Well, don’t break it. Get started on those locks! You’ve got 2 days until Christmas and I expect to see you open the gift before then.”

You pick up your scavenged thieves tools and get to work. Astarion doesn’t leave your side, but doesn’t say a word as you fidgit with the tiny mechanisms. He watches as you deftly click tumblers and twist cogs in the locks, popping them open one at a time.

He knows the last one is a tricky lock. He had it made that way. You’re down to one last tumbler in the last lock when Astarion’s eyes brighten. He knows you’re close to your prize, but he knows this is the toughest bit - a smaller version of the same tumbler of the lock you gave up on. He leans over and gently whispers, “You’ve got this, Tav. You’re doing great!”

You smile at his encouragement and feel the final tumbler click. “I did it! Holy crap, I did it!”

You throw your arms around Astarion. He chuckles happily, clearly proud of you. “You finally got it, Tav!”

“Because I had a great teacher! Can I open it up?” you’re almost giddy.

“Please do. You deserve it,” Astarion gestures to the box.

You squee like a toddler and lift the lid to find a brand new thieves tools kit with a note that says: “I will never not be around to help you out of tight spots, but just in case… you’ve earned these. Love, Astarion”

You untie the leather straps and unfurl the kit. Your fingers dance across the shiny metal implements before you turn to your teacher.

“I don’t know what to say…” you start, and without thinking, quickly place your lips on his. “Thank you.”

If you weren’t absolutely sure that it was impossible, you’d have sworn that you saw Astarion blush.

[galkyrie]

7. “This is not what I had in mind. Like. At all.”

This sounds like a very Tim thing to say👀

Tim couldn't help but feel like he was interrupting, that he'd gotten the day wrong. He had let himself into Jay's apartment like he usually did- whenever Jason would perfect his latest recipe, he'd invite Tim over to take pictures of the final result for his recipe journal- and had been expecting the usual smell of toasting sugar or warm chocolate or browned butter to be filling the space. He had expected to be able to set up the ligting and fuss with his camera until it was just right, and let Jason review the pictures while he snuck tastes from the various mixing bowls in the space.

He hadn't expected candles. Or the table to be set for two, or the smell of fresh baked bread and cooking herbs to fill his nostrils, making his mouth water.

He certainly hadn't expected the realization that he'd likely interrupted Jason preparing for a date to make him so-

He breathed out, pushing away the prickly feeling in his chest at the idea, and spoke when he was sure he could go for lighthearted without it seeming feigned.

"I thought you were baking today?" He fidgeted with the shoulder strap of his bag instead of looking over to where the man was leaning over the stove, stirring something that smelled amazing. It probably would've been better to slip back out of the apartment as quietly as possible and double check the dates on his burner phone used exclusively for keeping in contact with Jason, but-

That little pit of disappointment that this wasn't for him was making him reckless. Selfish in his urge to prod and possibly see if Jason had just forgotten about their thing in favor of some romantic gesture-

That he...wanted to be for him. Okay. That was- that was new. When he'd started hanging out with him- or really, when he'd shouldered his way into making Jason let him help with his hobby- that wasn't what he had in mind. Like, at all.

He definitely should've slipped out the front the moment he'd seen candles and gone home to lick his wounds, because this was not the time or the place to be dealing with that particular revelation.

"I baked yesterday." Jason was gruff when he answered, interrupting Tim's panic over his newly-realized and thoroughly unwelcome feelings in favor of confirmation that yes, he had messed up his days.

Instead of kicking him out, Jason kept talking. Tim couldn't quite believe it. He'd gotten the day wrong and stumbled upon him pulling together an amazing smelling candlelit dinner that was almost done and instead of shooing him out of the apartment, he just shot him one of his easy grins. "Yeah, been bakin' all week. Had to get a new recipe together fast."

"Why the rush?" Tim tried to sound casual, setting his bag down on the counter and focusing entirely too much on retrieving his camera.

"Well I had to get something together after I found out I missed your birthday, Tim." He shot him a meaningful look. probably broadcasting disappointment in him. "Why didn'tcha let me know last week that it was your birthday? I had to read it in the society pages of the Gazette."

"Um," Tim set his camera down, finally meeting Jason's gaze head on. "It was?"

"You forgot?" Jason sounded flabbergasted, turning away from the stove to look at him fully. "Seriously?"

"I was on a mission! Time was weird there," Tim defended, "I'm still adjusting to what month it is, and it's not a big deal anyways-"

"-Big deal or not," Jason pointed at him with a spoon, "Your friend who bakes would've liked some forewarning before having to cobble together an actually edible version of your favorite cake."

"First of all, Snoballs are actually great," Tim jumped to tread over familiar ground, because-

Jason spent days baking a, probably much better, replica of his favorite snack cake and Tim showed up the day they were supposed to meet to the man preparing a candlelit dinner. He cast a furtive glance to he table, at the warm glow of the setting, and bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the sappy smile wanting to take over his face.

Maybe he was right where he was supposed to be, after all.

[alpinelogy]

📔 <- couldn't find the right emoji but I would very much like to hear about what's cooking in ye olde writer's brain!

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about. (I am slowly getting through these adfsg <3, just last minute Christmas shopping and writing out each takes a decent amount of time)

Hello and let me introduce you to an entire AU, for which the latest instalment that I opened a doc for started cause of a livery so I think it fits with you being the unofficial home of livery watch.

Anyway, the premise is a rather simple magic AU, very close to how our real world functions except small magic can occur here and there. People can cast mostly harmless spells, curses are abound, but otherwise the magic has very little impact on day to day life. Tho mildly important that some people have more affinity for magic than others, with kids especially being sensitive to magic more and becoming less sensitive as they grow up.

Got two fics set in this universe that keep rotating in my head, both under the cut adsfghj. Ships are Galex and Pierresteban for those who wanna know if they wanna invest in reading my rambling, once again I have never been brief about anything

The first time this came to me was way back in Jeddah weekend where every single Williams driver, junior or actually Alex and Logan, had the most ass weekend imaginable. The premise was that Lia asked an offhand question if Jeddah is the worst track on her calendar when they were recording for Team Torque, Alex said yes, but because she is young and does not have the proper control over her magic, she accidentally placed a curse on the team. And because Alex is the one who responded to that comment, the curse decided to curse the entire team, from the most junior (Lia) to the most senior (Alex).

Enter a series of hijinks where Alex is very aware that something is wrong, but too bad at magic to actually figure it out, Logan and the juniors are in misery, and the entire weekend is shit. Oh and George is just vibing in Mercedes. He is actually the guy who figures out that there is a curse on Williams, he is not part of Williams anymore so the curse missed him, but he is still close enough to the Williams team to immediately figure out somethings up and he is less dense at magic than Alex is and puts two and two together rather quickly.

They never actually manage to undo the curse until after the weekend, though it disappears after the race. Only then Alex actually realizes what happened even though he has been racking his brain about it since George caught onto the curse on Thursday or Friday.

This would've been a rather silly series of unfortunate events at heart, with a little bit of light hearted Alex torture. Nothing too serious just a deep sigh why are we here just to suffer sort of torture. A comedy of errors, this is the only tangible bit that I have written. one day I might return to this, tho idk since this feels like a fic that should be written and posted closer to the race than almost a year later yk? Asdfgh

This would be roughly the tone of the entire fic. Just silly hijinks all around :3c

The second fic set in the same universe, or at least one with the same vague magic going on would be a Pierresteban vaguely Brazil exorcism but actually much more than that!! Sparked by the all pink livery Alpine ran for the last few races.

The premise is that Australia 2023 when they totalled the pink cars something got messed up and cursed. Magic is finnicky like that. Initially, it was not too bad, Baku 2023 happened but then Esteban podiumed in Monaco so maybe its fine and Baku was just bad luck and stupidity.

Then Pierre gets his Spa sprint P3, nice, good work, but during summer break Charles starts ringing the alarm bells that something is fishy. But then even tho Charles has kept his touch on magic since he was a little kid unlike most people, Charles has been a bit of a doomposter about Alpine since the very beginning and the only reason he likes them is cause its better than AlphaTauri.

Anyway after summer break '23 is when it starts crumbling. Pierre gets his Zandvoort P3, but also they're running an interim TP yeah okay maybe something is off. Not like he will reconvene with Esteban though about it, nu uh. The rest of the season is as usual and it goes downhill from there, Pierre has to admit that Charles was right okay fine yeah he had a point.

Over the winter break Alpine reconvenes and they all conclude that the car is cursed. Their camo pink teasing and then the ass livery? An attempt to lift the curse. The two different but very similar liveries? A second backup attempt. Hiring Flavio? Sure as hell an attempt to break the curse oh no nevermind backpedal guys backpedal Flavio was a bad idea. Bringing in Oakes as a TP? You guessed it, also an attempt at fixing it. So are all their special liveries and suits and everything else they did over the '24 season.

The crux of the issue is that no one realizes that the curse is as old as Australia '23, most pinpoint it to somewhere around summer '23 cause thats when it was really starting to become tangible. But no one including Pierre and Esteban actually realize it that what created the curse was the totalling the two pink cars.

Anyway Brazil lifts the curse, at least seemingly temporarily, and somewhere along the lines someone realizes that the only correct way to fully banish the curse for good is to run a pink car for the rest of the season. Totalled the pink cars at the end of race 3 of the '23 season and DNFed, double podiumed the fourth to last race of the '24 season and ran the rest of the season with pink cars. Parallels yk.

Also somewhere along the lines Pierre and Esteban slowly start fixing their friendship. My personal interpretation of the beef if that Pierre perpetuates it, probably started it, thinks about it more, so that it also has to be him to make the first step to fixing it, thats why he is always the POV character in my Pierresteban lmao. So yeah, vague mostly pre-relationship Pierresteban that over the course of the fic slowly fix their relationship cause of the curse they accidentally created and placed on the car together.

I would actually like to write this one and hopefully I will because to me this is also my attempt at yet another Pierresteban exorcism. I just need to figure them out and then the floodgates will open trust.

Oh and, post credits scene is Alpine fucking it up again because they fired Esteban before Abu Dhabi. Oh you stupid ass team why do I support you...

So thats my little magic AU I rotate in my head in my spare time. Curses and shenanigans abound, mostly silly comedy of errors and bad teammate relationships, everyone gets a little curse if you're not careful enough. Except Charles. Charles has somehow managed to do the opposite. Lucky guy.

Also George can in this AU absolutely manifest the most randomass shit. Every time the dash jokes about his manifestation powers such as Austria '24 or Baku '24? Or even the whole teammates with his hero bit? Good old manifestation powers in this AU. Like I said, very silly but so much fun to me

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson in New Jersey. Finally.

Alyssa Rasp | August 4, 2023

To any Louis Tomlinson fans, it’s not news that he has phenomenal music taste. Andrew Cushin, a singer-songwriter from across the pond in Newcastle, is no exception. Andrew joined Louis for almost the entirety of the North American leg of the Faith In The Future World Tour – and the fans loved him.

Last Friday, the tour stopped at the Stone Pony Summer Stage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. A show that is basically on the beach? Who could complain? Andrew took to the stage in a pair of sunnies with a guitar in hand to the sound of 3,000 screaming fans. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a concert where the crowd shows as much love to the support acts as they do for the headliner, but after hearing Andrew play, I totally get why (and I missed that sound).

His voice is incredible with so much power and a beautiful tone. The narrative he is able to get across in his lyrics are one of the best parts of his music. New fans and old fans agree, because much of the audience knew every single word to his songs, including his latest single, “Wor Flags.”

Despite the 95º heat this night, the energy never dipped. The following act, supporting act Giant Rooks, were up next and brought the sound of Berlin to New Jersey. The alternative rock band were dancing all over the stage throughout their entire set and hyping up the crowd. Frontman Fred Rabe even showed off his percussion skills with a tambourine and floor tom in addition to his usual guitar.

Again, the fans who came out were showing so much love. They knew lyrics, had posters, and were dancing along even in the scorching weather. (It was the perfect set up for the headliner and their own single that dropped just a few days later: “Somebody Like You.”)

When Louis Tomlinson hit the stage, the crowd was electric. Many of his fans have been around since his early days in One Direction, but it was clear that a lot of the crowd were solo Louis fans through-and-through. Following his debut album Walls (which was one of our Top Albums of 2020), the English artist grew further into his own with the release of Faith In The Future. (This sophomore record of his also ranked on our year-end favorite albums, even with its late 2022 release date.) The singer-songwriter has officially found the rock sound that he has been striving for. I love it. We love it. The fans love it.

Full of big guitars and intense drums, his live show is insanely good and so much fun. His touring band is incredibly talented, but it’s no question that he surrounds himself with the best. Listening to the record before this night in Asbury Park and then hearing the songs in person, it’s clear that Louis wrote them for a live setting. Even with a pared down stage setting (this was the smallest stage he played on during this amphitheater run), he still put on an amazing show. It’s so obvious that this Brit-rock star loves performing.

Delivering reimagined rock versions of One Direction classics “Night Changes” and “Where Do Broken Hearts Go?” on top of deep cuts of his own beloved originals, he made sure to pay homage to his single era of 2017 with “Back To You,” which featured Bebe Rexha. Those moments prove that his musical instincts are still there and are able to adapt to his current style while also showing love to fan favorites. Louis Tomlinson is truly an artist to keep an eye on if you’re not already. One of the best shows I’ve ever been to from start to finish. Although he’s off to tour the rest of the world after a short break, we are looking forward to the next time he’s back in town.

Louis Tomlinson, FITFWT23: Asbury Park, 28.7.2023

[questforgalas]

Mission: Sit Tight and Wait

**remastered July 2023, updated version here**

Summary: While Obi-Wan and Rex are rescued off Kadavo, Cody and the 212th can't do anything but sit and wait

Words: 2.9K

On AO3

Notes: Lol at the title, I had no idea what to put. This one got away from me, but I'm really happy with it. It made me happy cry at the end, so hopefully you enjoy this little journey too. There are so many side scenes from The Clone Wars that I wish we could see on screen, so here's my self indulgent remedy.

Warnings: Fluff, minor angst (uncertainty and flashes of anger), slavery mentioned, mentions of captivity, Cody's perspective, Jesse, Wolffe, and Fives make appearances, brothers comforting each other, banter between brothers, swearing in Mandoa, Cody almost loses his cool on Yoda, Obi-Wan's influence on the 212th, brothers concerned for their brother, mentions of alcohol

Mando'a Key: Osik: Shit Vod: Brother Ori'vod: big brother

______________________________________________________________

The Negotiator was never quiet. No matter the time of day, there was always some kind of ruckus that Cody could hear. Sabacc games, mess hall conversations, troopers doing their rounds, enthusiastic retellings of the latest battles. That last one was always Cody’s favorite as he listened to his brothers gradually one-up each other. Somehow a simple smash-and-grab would involve 12 tanks, 8 droidekas, and 3 platoons of commandos that his brothers each took down single-handedly. Normally the quietest part of the ship was the bridge filled with the quiet beeps and taps of navigation systems and radars. The only time Cody found himself up there was when he was needed for a briefing with General Kenobi or required to attend a meeting. Otherwise, he preferred to spend his time elsewhere in the ship - most often in the makeshift fitness center where he could work off his restless energy or remind his brothers why he was named Commander.

He happened to be up on the bridge finalizing reports when he heard the holotable beep with an incoming message from the Jedi council. Cody hit the receiver and General Yoda’s small blue form flickered in front of him. The warning in his gut told Cody he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, but he was wrong. It was so much worse. The council just received a message from General Skywalker and Commander Tano from Zygerria, the former slavery empire. Cody was there when General Kenobi was briefed on his joint mission to locate the missing Togruta colonists and saw his general off just 2 rotations ago. While the 212th waited for Kenobi’s return, they remained in the Shili system with the Resolute incase the separatists decided to return to the unoccupied planet while the colonists were missing. It wasn’t surprising to Cody that they hadn’t heard from Kenobi yet, but as Yoda continued relaying his message, Cody felt the very strong urge to plant a permanent tracker on his general and, in this instance, his little brother because while Skywalker and Tano made it off Zygerria of their own will, Kenobi and Rex had been transported to Kadavo, the Zygerrian’s processing center, at least a rotation ago. Cody’s blood wasn’t cold - it was pure ice running through his veins. 

He knew he was supposed to respond to the elder Jedi. Just an acknowledgment that he heard the message. Anything, really. Instead, Cody just stared. How was he supposed to respond to his general and little brother being taken captive on a slave planet? This wasn’t exactly a scenario that was covered in the simulations the Kaminoans setup for them. Figuring the blinding rage Cody wanted to respond with wouldn’t be considered appropriate, he dug deep and found it in himself to act something like a commander of the GAR.

“Understood, sir. We can be on our way within the hour and in the Kadavo system at 0500 tomorrow.” The Kadavo system was located in Wild Space and one of the furthest points from the Negotiator’s current position. As efficient as the 212th was, they still wouldn’t be able to get there in less than 12 hours. “That’s 12 hours more that Rex and Obi-Wan are at the hands of that scum,” Cody thought to himself. Them being in that center for even just 12 seconds more made Cody feel sick, but it was the best he could do.

“Negative Commander. Remain you will. Closer the 104th are and aid Skywalker and padawan Tano they will. Remain you must,” Yoda responded.

For the second time during this call, Cody found himself speechless. Obi-Wan Kenobi, their general, and Rex, his little brother, are currently captives, and the 212th are expected to just sit here. Cody blinked. He blinked again. Surely, this was General Yoda’s sick idea of a joke, right? But as Cody stared, the general didn’t correct himself, and Cody had to accept that he and his men were actually expected to sit tight and wait. He was confident that he’d rather face off against 3 hungry rancors than report this to the boys.

“Understood, sir,” Cody nearly spat. His professionalism was hanging on by a thread. “Have the 501st been informed?”

“Aware they are.”

“Understood.” With that, Yoda’s figure flickered out, and the soft taps and beeps of the bridge’s systems bombarded Cody’s ears. Slowly, his gaze shifted out the viewport to the Resolute sailing next to them. It was then that a thought more terrifying than the information he just received hit him. With no Skywalker, Tano, or Rex on board that star ship, who in the Maker was keeping an eye on Fives?

Once Cody was able to collect himself, he got the task of informing the boys out of the way as quickly as he could. When he was finished relaying the information over the ship wide comms, Cody swore he could feel how still every one of his brothers went. If he hadn’t glanced up and around, he could’ve been convinced none of his brothers on the bridge were breathing. He saw in their eyes the same emotional storm that had been swirling in him since he received the orders: anger, fear, helplessness. But his tasks weren’t complete just yet. He was a commander, but he was also a big brother, and there was a ship just next to them going through the same Maker made hell without someone in command to guide them. Jesse was capable, but the lieutenant still looked at Rex with the adoration of a shiny so Cody could only guess what the energy on the Resolute was like. He was glad he made the call as soon as Jesse’s form appeared in front of him – there wasn’t an emotional storm brewing in his eyes. There was just pure, unhinged rage.

“This is osik, Cody, and you know it.”

“Jesse, I see you’ve heard the news,” Cody hoped some light banter would bring Jesse’s rage down to a simmer.

“It was bad enough we were told to stay here, systems away while our general, commander, and captain go undercover on a slaver planet, but this? Did you hear General Skywalker and Commander Tano were captives on Zygerria?” Cody hadn’t heard that, but it seemed like Jesse was more than willing to fill him in.

“Skywalker was forced to be the Queen’s arm candy. And Ahsoka? Sat in a cage hanging over the city for a rotation.” That last sentence he said as if he was spitting venom out of his mouth, which Cody didn’t blame him for. Red flashed before his eyes, and she wasn’t even his commander. If Jesse was referring to Ahsoka by her first name over official channels, Cody knew he was hanging on by a thread.

“And now Rex is in a processing center being forced to do who knows what, and I just. I just don’t know what to do Cody. I know Wolffe and his boys will get them out of there, but sitting here doing nothing? I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that the boys aren’t taking it well.” Jesse mumbled that last part with a side glance. An image of the 501st standing off screen glowering jumped into Cody’s head.

“How many times have you had to stop Fives from jumping into a ship?”

That earned Cody a soft chuckle from the Lieutenant. “I considered locking him in the brig before I even reported the news just to keep him somewhat controlled.” Jesse went quiet, looking down at what Cody assumed was their holotable on the Resolute’s bridge. He let out a deep sigh, and Cody saw his shoulders slump. No, more like sink as if he just took on the weight of Kadavo itself.

“Cody, what if…what if they’re not in…”

“Stop it right there, trooper,” Cody cutoff Jesse’s train of thought knowing exactly where he was going because it was the same one that kept ringing through Cody’s mind. What if they aren’t in time.

“If this were General Plo Koon and the 104th were in our shoes, they’d trust us to get him out of there. We have to do the same. Our brothers would never let us down. Besides, you know that Wolffe has a soft spot for Rex. There’s no way he's not getting him out of there.”

Cody relaxed a little more when he heard Jesse let out another soft chuckle.

“Thanks ori’vod. I can’t imagine the 212th is taking this too well either.”

“We’ve seen General Kenobi get through the impossible. We all believe we’ll see him on the Negotiator soon enough,” Cody responded honestly. Even though he felt the restlessness of his troops, he knew it was out of frustration of sitting and doing nothing and not in lack of belief in their general. Chaos would freeze over before any of them lost faith in their Jedi.

“Alright, well I better go check to make sure Fives hasn’t recruited a bunch of shinies to do something reckless like prank call General Yoda,” Jesse runs a hand down his face, but he doesn’t look as weighed down as he did moments ago. Cody chalks that up for a win.

“I’ll keep this channel open in case you need anything.”

“You’re going to stand by that holotable until you hear from them, aren’t you?”

“And you won’t be doing the same?” Cody quipped back.

A sly smirk appeared on Jesse’s lips, “Rex wouldn’t expect anything less. Osik, I already miss his eye rolls. We need him back soon.”

“He will be. The Wolffepack know how to pull off a rescue better than anyone in the GAR”

“Thanks again, Cody. Let me know if you hear anything”

“Same to you, Jesse.” Cody shut off the call, and then he was faced with what he considered one of his hardest missions to date: sit tight and wait.

That was 5 hours ago. Well, 4 hours, 35 minutes, and 29 seconds, but who was counting? Just as Jesse guessed, Cody hadn’t moved more than a foot from the holotable this whole time. Sometimes he caught himself staring at the machine as if that alone could make this rescue go faster. He noticed that the beeps and taps of the bridge’s systems had reduced over the hours, and he had a feeling it was a subconscious effort by his brothers to stop driving themselves insane by jumping at every beep that came through. At first, the 212th made a good effort to keep themselves busy and not seem like they were being driven mad by lack of information. But Cody noticed the subtle ticks. Over the hours, comm links became increasingly more interesting as his brothers frequently checked to make sure theirs were active and ready to receive. Any beep in the room would cause every head to shoot down and check if it was their comm notifying them of an incoming message.

The bridge, normally quiet and barely populated, had become the most popular place on the ship. At first, his brothers tried to play it off with half-cocked excuses. Cody found the amount of “maintenance reports” that needed to be filed over the last 5 hours amusing. But soon his brothers didn’t bother to hide their restless energy, and it felt like more than half of the 212th were sitting or standing on the bridge now. Some were engaged in hushed conversation, but the majority were channeling their energy into quiet, busy tasks. About an hour ago, someone brought up a couple cans of their sunburst orange paint, and many troopers were adding touchups to their armor. Cody couldn’t help his fond smile at the thought that his brothers found comfort in the task that Obi-Wan often expressed as his favorite bonding activity for his troops. It wasn’t a strange sight to see Obi-Wan sitting in the mess with shinies, offering his steady hand to paint some of the finer details. As Cody looked around, he thought he saw some Jedi symbols being added to helmets and vambraces. Thinking about Obi-Wan’s bashful reaction to the not so subtle tributes had Cody chuckling to himself. “Skywalker’s never going to let him hear the end of it”. In fact, Cody knew that the 501st were going to get an earful from their general if he returned to no tributes and Obi-Wan had a battalion covered in customized armor.

4 hours, 55 minutes, 48 seconds. That’s when the beep came in. Cody had been staring at the table for so long he didn’t process that it was in fact the holotable that was interrupting his thoughts at first. *Beep*. The most alert troopers’ heads immediately shot up. *Beep*. Troopers that had been sitting were now scrambling to stand up. *Beep*. Cody finally registered the incoming message signal. In the split second it took for Cody to hit accept, he noticed it wasn’t coming from the Jedi council. It was coming from CC-3636. It took the longest 2 seconds of Cody’s life for Wolffe to flicker into focus. The first thing Cody noticed was that Wolffe was breathing hard, as if he had just finished running before making the call. The second thing he noticed was the lack of scuffing on Wolffe’s armor. “That’s good, that means it was a relatively clean mission.” The last thing Cody caught was that Wolffe still had his helmet on which told him that he was very much rushing from whatever he was doing previously to make this call.

“We’ve got them.” Three simple words, but they held enough power to push the collective relieved breath the room was holding. “We’ve got them Cody. We just left the atmosphere, and I have to run to the briefing. But I wanted to tell you. Sinker’s calling Jesse as we speak.”

“Th-thank you, Wolffe. Thank you.” There wasn’t much else Cody could say. Wolffe gave him a curt nod and the call cut off. Cody could hear his heart in his ears. One beat. Two beats. Three beats. The room erupted. Command structure was forgotten as a room of troopers celebrated the news that their Jedi and their brother were saved. Cody was lifted up by someone, Jetsetter he thinks, and unceremoniously thrown in a circle in one of the biggest hugs he’s ever received. Sunburst paint was being thrown in the air. Chants of “Wolffepack! Wolffepack!” echoed throughout the room. Cody was shocked his mouth hadn’t split with how wide he was smiling. Just moments later, the holotable started beeping again. The Resolute was calling.

“Sounds like you heard the good news,” Fives openly laughs as the noise of the Negotiator no doubt goes through to their end.

“I can say the same about you all,” Cody jokes as he hears “Break out the spotchka!” in the background.

“Sinker said they’ll be jumping into hyperspace shortly, and we should see them by 1000 tomorrow,” Fives informs him.

“Thanks Fives. Did he say how they are? Wolffe had to run to the briefing.”

There was a small tendril of fear behind Cody’s question. Obi-Wan and Rex were only captives for 36 hours, but who knows what the Zygerrians conjured up for their processing facility. He studied Fives face as he waited for his answer. Thankfully, nothing dark crossed over his features.

“Definitely beaten up. Going to spend the hyperspace trip in the med bay. But physically fine. I’m sure some ghosts will be coming with them, though.”

“We’ll be there to help fight them when they appear,” Cody said instantly. He knew Obi-Wan had his Jedi ways of dealing with the traumas of war, but there was no way he was letting his little brother take his usual stoic approach after this one. He was thankful for Fives’ tendency to ignore Rex’s personal space because he knew the ARC will do the same.

“I can’t believe I’m looking forward to Rex chewing me out,” Fives chuckled to himself.

“Better to have him around to chew you out than not have him around at all,” Cody said.

“Cheers to that vod. I’m going to make sure Jesse doesn’t over do the spotchka, and by over do I mean not share with me. See you on the next one,” Fives gave a casual salute to Cody before cutting off.

“Hey Commander! X-Ray found some Correlian whiskey in the mess. We’re cracking it open!”

“Be right there vod. Tell them to save some for me.”

Cody looked around the bridge. The majority of the 212th had moved out of the room during his call with Fives. He guessed they headed to the mess in search of something worthy of a celebration, and it sounds like they were successful. Sunburst orange was smattered all across the now nearly empty bridge, and Cody smiled to himself. He hoped getting paint off of radar screens wasn’t too much of a nightmare, but that was something for future Cody and some shinies to figure out. Something told him Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind the new décor, but Cody wanted as few headaches as possible to be around when their general returned.

When they returned. Not if. Not maybe. When. Of all the wins the 212th collected, this one was by far Cody’s favorite.

[thisaintascenereviews]

Tyler Hubbard - Self-titled Florida Georgia Line is most often to be considered the worst thing to happen to country music within the last decade, and you could make an argument as to why -- they started the “bro-country” trend, where these artists talk about trucks, girls, beer, and the same types of things, all the while incorporating pop and hip-hop tropes into country. A lot of people hate it, and for good reason. It’s really bad, misogynistic, boring, and uninspired. FGL was always at the forefront of it, especially with their 2012 hit “Cruise,” which admittedly is very catchy. They broke up in 2021, but they didn’t officially call it quits until last year. It was very quiet, but the inevitable finally came. It also makes sense because both members, Tyler Hubbard and Brian Kelley, were putting out solo projects. Hubbard is the latest one to do so with his debut solo album. He released an EP last year, all of which appears on this new self-titled album, but I thought I’d check it out for a couple of reasons -- out of pure curiosity, just to see if this album might be good, and because I’ve got a somewhat soft spot for these guys. FGL’s music is either really, really bad or it’s generic but still rather catchy. I enjoy some songs on all of their albums, at least to some degree, and I like Hubbard’s voice a lot. He’s nothing special, but he’s got a good sound to it, and I can enjoy it. Maybe his new self-titled debut album might be good, so I thought it would be good to check it out, especially when I liked the songs from the EP. As far as EPs go, it’s fine, but how is the whole album now that it’s been out for the last week? Let me ask you, the reader, this first: do you want the short version or the long version? The short version is that this album is fine, nothing more or less. There’s a lot more I can say, but if I had to sum it up, this album’s okay. It’s nothing special, and if you have an idea of what to expect with FGL, you’re going to get the same thing here. This album feels like an extension of FGL, and it’s almost like they never broke up, but this album is less obnoxious. The long version, however, is that there are some bright moments on this album, but it’s frustrating, because it’s so generic in a lot of places, too. It’s catchy, and a lot of the songs on this album have good hooks, but this record places radio-friendly hooks over songwriting and lyricism. Hubbard’s performance is fine, and the instrumentation is well and good, but the lyrics are very bland a lot of the time, usually being very surface-level, and the songwriting is blase, too. It’s just a lot of the same, especially within the album itself. Every song on this hour-long album sounds the same, and it’s bad, folks. Not the songs are bad, but the album is way too long. This didn’t need to be an hour. I would have wanted this to be maybe around 36 to 40 minutes. It doesn’t need to be an hour. You could have cut a lot from this album and it wouldn’t have made a difference, especially when a lot of the songs have very similar lyrics. A lot of this record is about how this girl that Hubbard is with loves him for who he is, such as on “Me For Me,” which is a decent song and a good sentiment, but it’s weird when he’s painting himself out to be this unique guy when he’s just describing country tropes, such as big trucks, wearing boots, and drinking beer. There are a few songs that try to break out of the generic formula, such as “Miss My Daddy,” where he talks about his late father, but it’s few and far between. Some songs are pretty fun, such as “Everybody Needs A Bar,” which is just about how everyone needs a bar to drink, decompress, and socialize at. He even says that everyone needs somewhere to just shoot the shit, and it’s a pretty fun moment on this album that I really liked. Overall, though, this LP just feels like a bunch of outtakes and leftover ideas from FGL records. That’s fine in itself, because a lot of their fans are going to enjoy this, since it’s not much different, but there’s a lot that’s left to be desired. I wasn’t disappointed by this, because I went into it knowing what to expect, and it’s exactly what I thought I’d get. From the EP, it’s the same thing, but there are some good moments. “5 Foot 9″ is a catchy song and one of the lead singles, “Everybody Needs A Bar” is a ton of fun, and “Miss My Daddy” is an introspective song that looks more inward and has something more personal to say than the generic country tropes that this album continues with and that Hubbard and his songwriting team thinks people still want to hear. It’s funny when you consider Hardy’s second album, The Mockingbird & The Crow, came out a couple of weeks before this, and it actively deconstructs and pokes fun at these exact tropes (especially when Hardy himself had a hand in writing some of FGL’s biggest hits). If you’re looking for some solid country with a pop edge, you’ll like this, or you miss FGL, you’ll get something out of it, but people who don’t like country already will not like this. I like some of it, especially some hooks and vocal melodies, but as a whole, it’s really lacking.

[secrets-of-everwich]

02-1 A Link? - Plaintext version

[Click]

{Callie}

Hello, this is Callie Hewitt and is it okay to say it’s spooky season yet? (Even though it started in July). This is the 1st October 2021, and I am excited for Halloween. Though, that isn’t relevant. At all. Oh well!

The Secret of Everwich I’m going to talk about today happened in the 60s, with two people called Adam Ives, and Jill Harris. I think there were more in the group, but the names are left without surnames. By this point, Manor Road would have been in construction. Oh – Manor Road is the road that leads up to Everwich Manor. It was built due to a lack of residential houses, and the owners of Everwich Manor not having enough money to keep the epic driveway depicted in photos from the 1800s. So, a lot of the land for the gardens of the Manor had been sold, and, to kill 2 birds with one stone, Manor Road sprung up!

It's still one of the more expensive roads in Everwich, but that’s probably more because of the Manor. The street isn’t as nice. Anyway, this all takes place on the other side of Everwich, on the other side of the High Street, near Lilacs Lane. That’s a road on the outskirts of Everwich, closer to the city. Quite a few medium sized houses, where nowadays a lot of older couples live. It’s a nice place to have a walk, I sometimes go there myself, and- I’m getting offtopic.

What I was wanting to talk about today is the interesting newspaper report from then, written by Michael Grenn in 1962. Please note, that this is not the Everwich Post, but a newspaper from the 60s which seems to report a lot of what nowadays we may call conspiracy theories. But, if you weren’t happy with those, I don’t think you’d be listening to this.

        ‘Latest Disappearance Close Call Suggests Serial Killer?’

        ‘For the past month, there has been a string of mysterious disappearances that have been sowing fear into the citizens of Everwich. Starting with Christopher Newell, a bus driver, who was known to be friendly and beloved by most of the community, this batch of disappearances may be linked.

        ‘Jill Harris, 22, was found bleeding in Lilacs Lane last night at 11pm. Sources suggest she was coming back from a meeting when attacked. Her friend, Adam Ives, who lives nearby, explained how he saw Jill lying on the floor, semi-conscious:

        ‘I had heard a commotion close to my house. I knew things weren’t right in this town, so went out to investigate. When I saw my friend lying there, I knew something was wrong. I thought I saw a pale child run away, but I didn’t recognise him.’

Well, I’m glad Adam was walking nearby. The article continues to explain that there’s a serial killer, and suggests a family as the source, but I don’t buy that theory. I’m sure this was the Everwich Ghost. Come on, a pale child running away from a dead body? What other creepy pale children do we know live in Everwich who nobody seems to know. It may seem like a stretch to you, but almost every sighting of the Everwich Ghost are accompanied by deaths, disappearances, or injuries. I think Jill Harris was about to become the next victim.

What I am interested in, however, is the quote: ‘I knew things weren’t right in this town’. Now, there’s not much else about Adam or Jill that makes me think they’re the sort to believe in conspiracy theories from publicity – Adam became a CEO of a fancy company, and so did his son, while Jill left Everwich to pursue acting. Both are retired now. So that quote is interesting. I’ll have to do some digging. One of my brother’s friends is Adam’s granddaughter, so perhaps I can ask her to get me in touch with him!

Anyway, Adam was right. Things aren’t right in this town. There’s a lot of people like Christopher Newell, mentioned in the paper, who have disappeared. I’m missing a piece, I’m sure of it, but I know it’s the Everwich Ghost. It’s just, I don’t know how a ghost could travel the entire length of the town, when my best theory suggests the Everwich Ghost’s primary base should be this manor. Oh, don’t get me wrong, there’s been a lot of sightings in the Manor, but most of the deaths occurred outside. People got to know that the Manor was haunted, so stopped going in.

[Pause]

I want to know if there was a pattern. A pattern between all the disappearances. Did they know something? Were they just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Is the Everwich Ghost targeting descendants of those who ridiculed them in life? There’s definitely a link between the Florences’ deaths and the near-death of Jill Harris. I just need to find it.

Until then, this has been Callie. Thanks for listening!

[Click]

[blu3n4rt]

Talking about a Poké-phoenix

In ''Something wrong with shiny pokémon #4'' video, I included a little nostalgia part.

And it was about a pokémon that's quite rare and even unknown, at least in the way it's obtained.

Many people are probably familiar with ''Ho-oh'', the legendary pokémon introduced in Gen 2 (Pokémon Gold/Silver/Crystal 1999 to 2001), representing a phoenix that has resurrected Suicune/Raikou and Entei.

Except that... Once Gen 3 arrived with the Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald games (2002 to 2004), we couldn't really access them, simply because there was no compatibility between Gen 2 and Gen 3, no transfer possible...

Historically, Suicune/Raikou and Entei were available in the Red Fire/Green Leaf versions (2003), which appeared before Emerald, depending on the starter chosen (e.g. Salameche for Suicune), and after to beat the pokémon league, you can have only one of them as a fugitive on Kanto (although you'd still have to meet him - prepare a lead lvl 50 max, some repels and just camp around Cerulean City, and save before all - Wobbuffet is probably the best one).

For Ho-oh and Lugia (and Deoxys), Game Freak had the good idea of making them available in the form of an event:

Take your Game Boy Advance, your game and go to a game store (a store like... GameStop store) to unlock the Mystik ticket... And it was only for Emerald, Fire Red and Leaf Green cartridges. If you missed this event, the action replay was your only solution.

But where does that leave us?

Two other games were released: Pokémon Colosseum (2003/2004) and Pokémon XD (2005), two off-series games for Game Cube, a sort of 3D continuation of the Pokémon Stadium games. (I guess?)

(You notice Groudon and Kyogre but... You can't got them in these games... 🤣 )

The goal is to purify all dark pokémons that you...

Steal.

Yes you can steal, but only dark pokémons. Dark pokémon are supposed to be more powerful than a vanilla pokémon (spoiler: not really, except against you...).

Lugia is obtainable on Pokémon XD, but once captured, all the rooms must have reached maximum tempo to purify it.

(But honestly, you really want to purify XD001? 😯)

I played Colosseum, and my little memory reminded me that this game was quite time-consuming (and it was HARD!!!) Hours and hours of XP farming... Not to mention the time spent purifying the pokémons (48 needed to be purify). But that's not the point.

I would talk about him:

(Yea... It's mine. Transfered to Sword version.)

Because what they don't tell you is that once you've reached a specific objective you can get it, once all the dark pokémons have been purified, you have to do... 100 Battles in the Mt. Battle on battle mode in the menus instead of launching the adventure. (Yes! Not in the story mode! 😑)

Someone please... Where did you find THIS INFORMATION?! Can you really find it in the game?!

This last screen after some hours of farming, battle, farming... farming...

This one is so satisfying, reviewing this shoot with Ho-oh reminded me how some games are sometimes absurd with their players, but some challenges lead to heavy rewards. It almost makes me sad that this kind of thing doesn't exist anymore in the latest games, there aren't really any challenges anymore... Or maybe they're not rewarded well enough... I guess...

Of course, my madness managed me to transfer this gem to the latest games (something I'd never have thought of back then), as someone had lent me the famous GBA-GC cable, so if you're familiar with transfer methods, you know the rest.

Ho-oh became obtainable again, thanks to the HeartGold/SoulSilver remake of the Gen 2 games (Nintendo DS to 2009), then Sword/Shield (Nintendo Switch to 2019, from the second DLC...), then on Brilliant Diamond (Nintendo Switch to 2021) via Rosa Rugosa Park (with an intense underground farming), and Scarlet/Violet (Nintendo Switch to 2022, on the second DLC... Again...).

(Finally transfered on Scarlet, all Colosseum Ho-oh had the ID 10048)

Without count event or an obscur way to got him (I mean cheat or glitch) I think the ''Colosseum Ho-oh'' is the rarest Ho-oh of all Pokémon games, and it will be still rarer with the closure of the Bank Pokémon (transfert from 3DS/2DS to Switch), while we wait for alternatives (I guess) from REAL PLAYERS, those who really appreciate this license.

I hope you enjoy reading stories like this,

Thanks for reading me 😊

[satureja13]

After Stefan left Jack with all these crazy news, athena arrived for their Herbology lessons and gathered the Boys in the greenhouse. They already had a light version of Herbology at Belgraves Institute, also tought by athena. She loves plants and has collected everything about magical plants and their cultivation on her internal harddisk.

There are all kind of plants growing here in the greenhouse and outdoors. Even from Sixam! Since the Boys already have basic knowledge and prepared well for today's lesson (thanks to Saiwa), athena jumped right in on the pro stuff. Which plants could be useful to help them to detect if they are under the influence of a Siren's Song and how to repell them.

After their extended Herbology lesson, Jack and his good mate Kiyoshi called Lunatic and Kiri for a ride-out. Kiyoshi is in a good condition so Jack thought it would be nice to spend some time together to solidify their - now legal - mateship.

It looks as if their shadows are holding hands <3 and the way they look at each other...

Jack set up a picknick and told Kiyoshi everything about this crazy 'Omega stuff' Stefan told him. Jack: "Can you believe it? The Council somehow 'deleted' my ability to love and get attached to be a better soldier! And that bolt that hit me must have reactivated it and, since I'm an Omega, Vlad and Jeb feel attracted to me! Do you feel it too? I'm sorry if you do, I don't want to stir up old wounds and endanger our mateship - and your return to us." Kiyoshi: "Nothing changed for me. And I don't think Vlad and Jeb are overly affected. Don't worry." Jack: "Ouf. That's a relief. I already cause enough trouble as it is."

Suddenly thick clouds covered the sun. It remembered Kiyoshi of their crash after the lightning stroke Jack. He was so startled he almost keeled over: "Jack - the clouds... huh?!" But Jack held him upright: "I've got you, mate."

Kiyoshi: "Thank you for having me. Um...it's raining. We should hurry and go inside." Jack: "Anytime. Shall we?" ...

...

After Sai gave Ji Ho another tutoring lesson on the stuff he'd missed, they returned to the Tower.

The common room is empty... Sai: "Where is everyone?" Skully chuckled: "They went up to the tops' room." Sai: "Jack too?" Skully: "Sure, why not?" Because they are all crazy for Jack, that's why... But Saiwa didn't bother explaning all that to Skully. They ran up upstairs. Skully started singing again: 'You know I can't stand it You're running around You know better, daddy I can't stand it 'cause you put me down Oh, no

I put a spell on you Because you're mine' (Original by Screaming Jay Hawkins from 1956! This song was also featured in one of my favourite movies: Elvira - Mistress of the Dark'. Scene is -> here)

Just to find Jack and Kiyoshi almost naked in the top's bathroom - and Vlad and Jeb watching them Jack! Sai: "What is going on here?!" Oh no, Sai is upset. Jeb is stunned. Everytime Sai is upset and Jeb is involved, they break up. He doen't know what to do! Jack: "Oh hey Sai! My good mate here and I got thoroughly wet!" Ji Ho is boiling. He wasn't prepared for this jealousy attack knocking him off his feet. Usually he wouldn't care, Jack is one of his closest friends and he knows that he and Vlad are just friends and that there would never happen anything romantic - ever. But his new found feelings don't seem to recognise that and nudge him over the edge of a downward spiral. Saiwa didn't do any better, he started screaming at Jack: "Get out of here! What are you thinking spreading your pheromones around here! Naked!"

'They say we're young and we don't know Won't find out until we grow Well I don't know if all that's true 'Cause you got me, and baby I got you'

I got you babe - Sunny and Cher

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

[august-hynes]

Dear Caden,

It's June again. If I've counted correctly, it's the sixth time the month passes since I've spent it on the dirt road behind your house.

It's June again, and the sky is orange above my balcony where I'm growing herbs and tomatoes and carrots and sunflowers, and it's June again and I married someone else. It was a private affair, bureaucratic almost, but at its core honest and self-explanatory. A logical, comfortable thing to do. Now Laurence answers all of her phone calls with am "um," before saying my last name.

To say that I'm happy about this latest, hugest change in my life wouldn't quite be correct. It's more like the feeling when you can match a puzzle piece into an already mostly finished picture, but big. It didn't feel like a relief, or an exhale, but something inevitable, completing. Like everything else would be nonsensical.

I'm not writing this to place a big "but" after it all, I swear. I'm writing this because I think I might be looking for closure, have been for years, and I'm slowly running out of options, so I'm trying to do what the internet tells you to do and write a letter. Groundbreaking in our case, truly. I'm also writing this because I still miss you to the bone. I'm not sure which version of you I am missing, because the truth is that I don't know you anymore, and you don't know me either, and that fact fills me with a huge sense of loss I am honestly not sure that I'll ever get used to. I miss the feeling of sharing stories and experiences and knowing that through all the hardships we were looking out for each other, I miss how seriously we took each other, how creative and inspired and big and loving it all was.

They say that every time you think of a memory, your brain alters it a little bit. Combined with the huge sadness, anger, joy, desperation and nostalgia I've felt about you, I'm not sure what details I think I remember are real anymore, which ones I've heightened and which ones I've forgotten about. But I know that the core of it was real, and that it was big and important. I saved your life and you showed me who I am, and I know that we had a lot of dreams and hope for each other and with each other. I also know that I've tried to mourn all of this for years but still feel like I'm picking at healed skin all the time. And so it felt strange and sad to not send you an invite to my actual wedding party in September, because I think I thought that you would be there. I thought that you would be there, somehow, for things like this, for me finally getting my driver's license and me moving back to the city I come from which took SO much courage, I thought you'd be there for birthdays and us finishing our degrees, in whatever capacity we could figure out. And now, somehow, even after it all, you are not, and that will never not make me devastated to realize in these moments.

I'm not sure if you decided that you can't or don't want to talk to me after all, if it's too strange or painful, if you feel like it's been too long and that I would be angry with you for not responding to me sooner. It's true that it hurt to be met with silence again, especially considering how the past years came to pass without you in the first place. I still wish that you had let me know either way, because like I said, I've been looking for closure for a long time.

I am scared that, worst of all, you perhaps simply don't care as much, and that I'm the only one out of the two of us who has been haunting everything that happened between us, hovering over the past, unable to quite let it go in its unfinished state. Here's where the closure comes in that I've been looking for: I've tried to banish these chapters of story, to embrace them, to make my peace or to find peace despite of or perhaps in the restless feeling the remains left me with. Then, quite recently, I've tried to find a less radical and much sweeter kind of closure, one we could maybe create together. But somehow I still ended up in the same chasm I've been in before, silent, strangely trapped, looking for traces and echos in quiet, sad moments, continuing the haunt.

I'm not sure if you also have the problem of a lack of tangible things to tell yourself that your feelings aren't based on a huge figment of your imagination. I sure do. Laurence has this coffee shop in Basel that makes her think of her ex-boyfriend every time she walks by. It's a fixed feeling, to be expected, even something she can seek out if she wants to. It's tied to a place, traceable. For me, memories and thoughts of you hit me like a freight train. It happens with music and color combinations, I still feel like I meet an improbably large number of people from Colorado. It happens when I don't expect it, but it never happens in a way that is understandable to others. And so, yes, in moments like right now, I sometimes look for it all with a strangely forbidden feeling in my stomach, scrambling for everything I can to tell me that, yes, this really did happen, and it really did shape me as a person as much as I think it did, in all the wonderful and awful ways I am sure you remember.

While I am sure of some of the brilliant parts of what we were together, I am also very sure that other parts weren't what I had wished for our younger selves – not only considering the circumstances and what was happening around us, but also how we were able or unable to accommodate everything that was happening to us. I've long since moved away from the question of who did what wrong or what was whose fault, because I don't think there is much of a point in that. But I am still confronted with at least the share of trauma I was left with, and while it did shape me as a person in important ways, I would hope that as adults, we would try to intervene if we saw something like this happening to someone growing up.

All this to say – I remember it. The details might be hazy, the emotions are still complex and layered, but I am grateful and sad, and no matter what happens, I think that time in my life left a truly indelible mark on me.

Here's another attempt at closing out: I'm not waiting for your answer anymore. If you do want to reach out after all, you are welcome to do so, but if you aren't, I am no longer hovering with my hands over the keyboard, no longer waiting to be called back. I am trying to exhale, to lose the tension in my shoulders, and go somewhere this part of me can rest up instead. You are welcome there any time you like.

In any case, I wish you well. I would like to say thank you, and if you haven't yet, I think it is time to forgive each other and ourselves.

Love, always, wherever.

[bunny-rambles]

YES!! LET US SHOWER RUE MORE AFFECTION AND KITHS HE SO DESERVE EJSKOAIA 😭😭👍 I love how the way you portayed them, bun!! it was so melancholy to the heart but sweet to the tongue that make it somehow bittersweet but pretty nostalgic for me 😫💖

Also, while I'm reading your latest fic, I was listening to the Reprise version of Part of Your World and Hksysksuso ITS SO PERFECT I WANNA HUG HIM SUSJSJ

That brings me back to my brainrot earlier when i was watching Little Mermaid with my baby cousin susksi like at first he wanted to take everything from albedo to himself, want to be him and do the things that his brother do, but when he met you, he now wanted to do it WITH you 😭👍 instead of being alone. He wanted to be in the sun with you, not in the frigid cold of dragonspine. He wanted to walk hand in hand with you. He wanted you to smile at HIM, not because he was pretending to be Albedo, but because he was Rue. Imagine him contemplating what should he do just to ensure you will stay beside him 😫

What would I give to live where you are? What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you smiling at me? Where would we walk, where would we run, if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me, and I could be part of your world.

The last verse of the song hit differenly to me because I think here, Rue will at least come in terms that he would want to be a part of your world as himself, not as Albedo or anyone but he himself 😭🖐

I don't know when, I don't know how. But I know something's starting right now. Watch and you'll see, someday I'll be part of your world.

Anyway, forgive my preamble. I have no one to talk to with my brainrots bc im too shy n awkward 😅😅

- lurker anon

Aww lurker, thank you so much for the kind words !! I’m sorry this has taken so long to answer, I wanted to properly respond to all of it instead of doing it when I’m half asleep hehe

But the brainrot really made me smile,,, and yes omg it fits so well for my baby Ruby yesyesyes !!

I was trying to go for a similar idea of Ruby finally focussing on someone else other than Albedo and focusing on an emotion that wasn’t resentment or bitterness.

some ramblings utc

Ruby as Ariel, that’s such a cute idea- their personalities are very, very different but in a way there’s a lot of similarities. Rubedo is probably very curious about the world and ooh, do you think he collects things he comes across in Dragonspine? I can see him having a collection of interesting things he finds, like the random diaries hidden around in the snow, or maybe some crystals he found pretty enough to keep.

He’s also very outcasted from society, just like Ariel was but she chose that (I felt that- people are exhausting sometimes), with Ruby it’s kind of forced upon him- he’s invested in so many ideas going on in his head he’s not realising what he’s missing, or that the empty feeling in his chest isn’t caused by Albedo, but by how the only person in his life decided to throw him away. Lonely - he feels lonely. He’s been abandoned for so long he’s forgotten what it feels like to be around others. That is, until he meets you.

Ah he probably hates the new, fuzzy feeling in his chest at first. He tries to find something to be bitter or pessimistic about you when you’re kind to him, but it’s almost impossible. You’re so sweet to him, it completely throws him off. When had anyone been kind to a failure like him? He secretly hopes you never find out his true origins so he can just live out a perfect fantasy life with you. Around you, he forgets about Albedo, forgets the revenge he’s been planning - with enough time, on some days he completely forgets he was an experiment in the first place.

You make him feel alive, human even. Sure, he can still be stuck in his stubborn pessimistic ways (again, I felt that - maybe I’m projecting a little too much) but with you, there’s happiness for him. And even the smallest amount is enough for him.

On a more personal note - I love Ariel !! She has her flaws but she’s s pretty solid Disney princess (and we’re both curious red heads heh) but she’s extremely positive while I believe it’ll take a hell of a lot of healing for Rubedo to even think of something in a more brighter way. He’ll get there, don’t worry !! He’s got you, of course <3

[shah-writes]

an artificially intelligent curse

so i read this article about a man who uses AI to speak with his dead fiancee and i simply cannot stop thinking about it. there’s no MCD in this! but you can find my thoughts at the bottom.

tldr; think AI + Inception + Drarry

“Draco’s dying.”

Ron is Harry’s best friend in the whole world but sometimes he can be a bit daft. 

“No, he’s not,” Harry replies serenely. He’s not. Draco is in the kitchen, wearing the light blue sweater Harry gave him last Christmas and a rosy flush Harry gave him two minutes ago. 

“They think you can help him.” Ron is staring at a point above Harry’s shoulder. Harry shifts slightly to follow Ron’s gaze and finds Draco standing there, levitating three steaming mugs of tea onto the table. 

Except. Except, Draco doesn’t drink tea. He drinks cheap, Instant coffee, a consequence of his time spent working in America. Harry teases him about it all the time. 

There’s a slight thud as two mugs hit the table, the third has vanished. 

Draco settles into a chair. “No tea for me,” he says playfully. There’s a small Statue of Liberty trinket on the bookshelf behind Ron. Harry relaxes. 

“Ron was just telling me a story,” Harry shares.

Draco smiles and leans forward expectantly on the table. It’s a set they thrifted last weekend: one Walnut table and four Cherry chairs— one ingredient away from a meal, Draco had joked. 

“It’s a curse, Harry. ‘Mione figured it out. It’s preying on your memories.”

Harry gives Ron a conciliatory nod and reaches out to brush a dark curl away from Draco’s forehead. Draco has platinum hair, he remembers, as an afterthought. 

The strands shift to a blinding white immediately. Or were they always white? They must have been, Draco would never dye his hair. 

“It’s you, Harry. You’re teaching it how to trap you.”

Harry reluctantly turns back toward Ron. 

“What makes us human?” Ron asks. “Harry, I know you can hear me, you just have to listen. What makes us human?”

“I… I don’t know,” Harry mumbles. 

“Instinct, Harry. Emotion and instinct.”

Ron is sitting on a cushioned armchair and Harry wonders absently where he got it. All Harry has are four Cherry chairs. He nearly expects to see Ron’s chair transform into dark wood. It doesn’t.

“You can’t teach humanity,” Ron continues. “You can teach a Thing how to learn, how to adapt. You can force it to consume everything around it until it knows right from wrong. Until it becomes as intelligent as any of us, but you can never teach it instinct. Look around, Harry, use your instinct.”

There’s a portrait on the wall. Four people. Harry and Draco. An older woman with almond-shaped green eyes and freckles over her nose; an older man with dark skin and Harry’s own unruly hair. 

“Hermione’s calling it an AI-Curse. Artificial Intelligence. It sweeps through your mind quickly and puts together a scenario where you feel comfortable. It’ll get things wrong, of course. It doesn’t know which memories are relevant, which are wrong, which are just daydreams. That’s where you come in. You tell It when it’s wrong and you reward It when it’s right.”

Draco’s sitting still at the table. Harry beckons him over. 

“I love that picture of us,” Draco says happily, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“What is this?”

“Us and your parents, silly.”

“Draco, my parents are dead. They’ve been dead for 27 years.”

Draco blinks. “I know. Do you miss them?”

Harry snaps back to the portrait. His parents have disintegrated out of the frame. 

Ron’s still sitting at the table in his armchair. “Malfoy’s condition is deteriorating. He’s succumbing to the curse. Once he’s given up all of his memories, he’ll die trapped in a fake world of his own design.”

“Stop,” Harry says; and then, “STOP,” louder, facing Ron. Ron doesn’t hear him. Because… because Ron’s not here. Ron and his stubborn, incongruous armchair aren’t here. Harry can hear the humming of Mungo’s Stasis charms echoing somewhere in his mind, the quiet bustle of the hallway, the frantic whispering.  

The only person here is Draco. Draco, who barely ever comes over to Harry’s flat. Draco, who flirts with him over lunches but flinches away when Harry reaches out to sweep his blonde hair off his forehead.

There’s a rosy flush on Draco’s cheeks except Harry’s not the one that gave it to him. Harry’s never kissed Draco; they’re partners and friends and maybe something that transcends description, but not this. Not yet.

“Draco, why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s smiling at him, eyes soft. It’s a daydream. Harry swallows down the grief of the realization. 

“We’re not dating, we’re not anything, why are you in my flat?”

Draco freezes. 

“No, no, no, please, no,” Harry’s grasping at him desperately but there’s nothing there. Just pixels floating away from each other, dissolving into the air. 

“NO!” Harry’s kneeling, face hidden in his hands. “No, I can’t do this alone, I can’t, come back… please come back.” He knows it’s impossible; you can’t teach humanity, Ron had said. AI doesn’t understand emotions, won’t bring him back now that it knows he doesn’t belong. 

“They want to Obliviate you,” Ron continues, speaking at Harry’s bedside at Mungo’s, imitated in Harry’s subconscious. 

“What?” Harry turns and scrambles toward Ron.    

“Hermione had a near conniption,” he chuckles. “But it’s the logical solution. The curse absorbs everything you show it and gives it back to you, better and smarter. If there’s no data for it to learn from, then you’re free.”

Harry collapses into the chair beside Ron, mind whirling. The room twists around them. They’re in the Gryffindor Common Room now, Ginny and Hermione near the fireplace, no more Walnut table and Cherry chairs. Except, Molly Weasley’s washing dishes in the corner. No. 

Obediently, Molly Weasley pops away. And then, the room is shifting again. 

“Without memories, the curse will implode into the simplest version of itself: a basic mind trap. Straightforward, simple. The kind that Aurors learn in training.” 

“JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO, RON,” Harry bellows. 

The Burrow. Except, there are two Georges. No. The room glitches and restarts. 

“They won’t try Obliviation with Malfoy. Healers think it’s too late, that he’s too weak even to break out of the simplest version.”

The office and Draco… he’s back. He’s back and alive and leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk, inspecting a takeout box. Yes. 

The room fills in further, encouraged. Case files pile up on Harry’s desk; Draco’s Statue of Liberty trinket is back, in the right place this time; an evidence board on the wall, newspaper clippings, Draco’s neat, white notes, Harry’s scrawl. 

“It’s unethical to deprive him of his memories now.” Ron says. 

Harry inspects the board closely. 7 people dead over 2 months. Inconsistencies in their deaths, but clearly perpetrated by the same actor. A pale blue envelope mailed to each victim. It explodes within minutes of delivery, enveloping its target into a coma.  

Seemingly random victims. A middle-aged mother, an elderly school teacher, a teenager days away from his 15th birthday. Muggles, Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and a Squib. Varying races, different financials. 

“Weird, isn’t it?” Draco’s staring at him. “Almost as if they chose the most diverse targets on purpose.”

Harry turns to him slowly, “Why?”

Draco tosses him an egg roll and shrugs, “Make sure we can’t trace them?” Draco joins him at the board, looks over the victim list.

The first had taken one month to die, slowly incapacitated. The second had taken only half that time, he had perished within two weeks. Faster and faster after that. The latest victim, a five-year old girl, was gone in three days. 

It was the first time, in five years of working together, that Harry saw Draco break down. Crouched outside her Mungo’s room, shivering, quiet; Harry had pulled him up and deposited him home. He came back to work two days later, his clenched jaw and fierce determination lodging itself into Harry’s heart.

Draco’s written a note under her picture: The curse is learning. 

“What is this?”

“You didn’t see the Mungo’s report? They think it’s targeting memories. With each iteration, it’s getting faster and killing quicker. Hermione was telling me about this thing…”

“Artificial Intelligence.”

“Exactly,” Draco smiles, surprised, “it absorbs huge amounts of data until it learns how to adapt to every condition.”

“The diverse victims— someone is teaching it how to learn, adapt to every condition,” Harry repeats. Draco’s standing near his desk again, illuminated by the soft light of his lamp. Soft blonde locks fall into his eyes as he looks over a case file. Harry wonders if this version will flinch away if he reaches out. Wonders if the curse has learned this detail yet. He hopes it hasn’t.

“They’re going to let him die in his own fake world. A peaceful death, they called it.” Ron is still sitting in the corner of the office, in a cushioned armchair.

Harry shakes his head, silently, frantically. There’s a pale blue envelope on Draco’s desk. 

“Draco, what is that?”

Draco looks at the envelope and back at Harry, nonchalant. Then, his face morphs into fear, mirroring Harry’s own expression. It’s the curse, it’s learning. Harry’s teaching it.

“The curse was targeting Malfoy. You were hit since you were in such close proximity, but it's a much weaker variant. You can make it out, Harry. You can help Malfoy navigate out.” Ron says from his corner.

“Harry,” Draco whispers. “What do I do?”

Harry strides forward, takes Draco’s shoulders in his hands. This is real now; Harry remembers this morning. “I’ll come for you, okay? We know what it is now, we’ll figure out how to stop it. Draco, you’ll be fine.”

Draco’s falling now. His eyes are shut, he’s laying on the floor, head tilted toward Harry.

Draco’s dying.

“RON, WHAT DO I DO? TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Ron’s not in his corner anymore. He’s gone, and so is his armchair, and it’s just Harry alone, in his office, with Draco’s body. 

The room is still filling up around him. Draco’s coffee mug, steaming on his desk. Blank walls slowly plastered over with Auror-standard tan wallpaper. Except. Except, Severus Snape is standing over Draco.

Harry steps closer cautiously, willful not to let the curse know that Snape doesn’t belong. 

“The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than Potions,” Snape says, looking up at Harry with dark, hooded eyes. 

A memory, then. Out of place, but relevant. Harry remembers Ron’s words: The curse doesn’t know which memories are relevant. It’s guessing, responding to Harry’s needs. It’s helping. 

“Right. You’re right.” Harry says, loud. Snape solidifies, robes saturating darker. 

“Rid your mind of all emotion,” Snape continues. “Empty it, make it blank and calm.”

“Empty it,” Harry whispers. He takes a last look at Draco and closes his eyes. 

He opens them to a plain white room. Nothing on the walls, the floor. Nothing, except a door. A simple mind trap. Harry opens the door.

i just love the idea that the curse helps him get out. since AI is always developed in service to others, i like the idea that even weaponized as a curse, it would still adapt to the needs of its target and help them in any way possible. idk pals!!!! i just have a lot of thoughts about AI, come scream with me about it!!!!!!!

also, if you haven’t already, i would highly recommend reading the article this is based off-- it is fascinating.