#I am gonna do another numbers round up at some point

[pretttydemonwrites]

Thoughts - June 4

Happy Pride Month Motherfuckers!

My writing has been pretty sporadic for the past couple of months. I'm not surprised really, I knew that setting a goal to write every day was going to ultimately wind up with missed days, but that was never really the point of this anyways. Whether I do it every day, every other day, or a couple times a week or whatever, I've already written way more this year than I think I've written in...let's just say it's been a while.

I'd like to expand on why that's happened, why I found myself falling out of love with the thing that I straight up decided to major in while I was in college. (Hint: college definitely had something to do with it)

I pinpoint the start of my love of writing around the age of eleven. At the time it was all My Chemical Romance self insert fanfiction and typical My Immortal style vampire stories. A little after that, I started branching out into doing text RP on Gaia Online and that's when I made my first real OC, Cassandra. Stuck her in a less than savory asylum themed roleplay and that particular group I would go on to do several different plots with. That was all through middle and high school, and those roleplays fueled my writing. I still wrote some MCR fanfiction during that time too, but I was branching out! Original stories, original characters, poetry, hell I did NaNoWriMo in like...2011 for the first time and fuckin crushed it.

I was pretty confident about my writing honestly. My friends and I liked it and that's kind of all I gave a shit about. When I started contemplating going to college and eventually decided to major in creative writing, that's when things started to take a bit of a turn.

For one thing, I don't particularly enjoy criticism! I also don't enjoy being told what format/genre/etc to write in, and when you get into advanced creative writing classes (at least at my college) then they usually focused on specific genres. For instance, I took a novella writing class, and a one-act playwriting class, and a....poetic playwriting class? Gun to my head I couldn't tell you what that one was officially called.

Now, obviously I recognize that the point of these classes was to allow you to branch into different formats, learn the conventions of them and use that knowledge to strengthen your skills. But I was a stubborn bastard and I only wanted to write my stuff.

That being said, my work often felt like it was undermined and looked down upon because my influences were very obviously YA/fanfiction/genre fiction based, whereas everyone else seemed focused on being as pretentious as possible, trying so desperately to be the next great white male author. I was resentful of that, and couldn't understand why my writing was seen as immature in comparison to my peers.

Long story short, I think those feelings kind of festered in me all through college so that, by the time I graduated, I had no intentions of ever turning my writing into any sort of career. I felt discouraged and pretty hopeless about my prospects, so once I was out, I was more concerned with figuring out how I was going to survive and pay rent, and I knew that my writing wasn't going to pay those bills. So I just...let it go for a while.

I'd write something here and there, sure. I think I might have even tried to submit a couple things. By and large though, what once consumed a vast majority of my free time was became something of a past life. "Back in the day I was a writer" and such.

And yet, it was still always one of the first things I would tell people if they asked me about my interests. ("Oh I'm a writer. What have I written lately? HAHAHAHA!") I couldn't let that part of my identity go. It had been a huge part of me for half my life, how could I abandon it?

So it was there, always, even if I didn't do anything with it. And then I got into DnD and other TTRPGs and I was doing text RP again and I realized that....I can still write? I'm still an actual writer? And I could write again if I really wanted to, if I could find a way to push past the discouraged feeling in my gut.

So that's what all this has been for, really. I could go on for a while about this complex relationship I have with writing, but it honestly feels so fucking good to be back in it, to be back working at something again. It's not perfect, I've definitely forgotten a lot of the useful shit I did learn in college, but I think that I could get there again.

If you read through this whole thing, I can only assume that you related to it in some way and if so, I hope you're coming out on the other side of things feeling hopeful for yourself too. Thank you, as always, for reading.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

00.2. how did you and jack meet?

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 1k

➴ author’s note: mostly sophia’s first nhl concert and how she and jackie boy met. i spent the entire morning working on that Nonsense outro and i am gonna say that im very proud of it lmfao. hope u enjoy!

—♡

THE room looked full.

On the stage, you could feel dozens, hell, hundreds of eyes on you. Shanon had warned you that at least two hundred people were expected but damn.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our most expected guest for tonight, Sophia Montenegro!” A man’s theatrical voice was heard just before the first notes of Nonsense.

You and your team worked really hard to make this happen, because April flew by, really. Coachella was a hit and you got so many jobs out of it, it was crazy. But this was what you were looking forward to the most.

You sat on top of a piano, black dress shining with the lights directed at you. You smiled, feeling anxious and excited and maybe just a little bit nauseous too. There were men, women and children sitting in round tables in front of you, but what really caught your attention was the group of men sitting on the table right in front of the stage, all of them wearing shirts with your face in it. And they were screaming the loudest too.

“‘Think I only want one number in my phone, I might change your contact to ‘don’t leave me alone’.”

Singing for you meant living. It was a necessity, a need. Every time you stepped on a stage, you felt alive, you felt fulfilled. You felt like maybe you were on this planet for a reason, and that reason presented itself whenever the words came out of your mouth during a song.

So you enjoyed yourself, and watched as the other people did the same. Everyone seemed to enjoy the acoustic version of Nonsense— which you had never sung before, by the way— and it was so funny to see grown ass men singing the lyrics like their life depended on it.

“Lookin’ at you got me thinkin’ nonsense. Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in…”

“Please do the outro!” Someone shouted before the end verse and you giggled. You were already planning on doing it, but you gave the man a thumbs up either way.

“Shanon said I should keep it PG.

So, Father, I might need to be set free.

Because I really want a Devils in me.”

Loud cheers were heard and you smiled, biting your lip.

The rest of the little concert went well, and when you noticed it, you were dancing on the stage with another five players, who had two left feet and were probably a bit drunk too, but it was so much fun. One of them even asked for the mic so he could sing for a while too. You had the time of your life and you really hoped everyone else did too.

When the last song— Espresso— ended, you received a standing ovation. You felt yourself tearing up just a bit, and you closed your eyes, bowing your head.

“Thank you so much, everyone, I had so much fun tonight,” you started, voice wobbly and tired. “I didn’t know you guys were my biggest fans…”

“Nico here went to your concert!” Some guy shouted, pointing at the man— Nico, you suppose— beside him. You laughed, blowing him a kiss. The Nico guy looked like a tomato, face all red and cute, but he was wearing your merch too.

“Well, now I need to change and from what I’ve heard, we’ll have some delicious food and more amazing singers tonight, so please don’t leave!” You said, leaving the stage after another round of applause.

You found Grace in your dressing room, and you both hugged each other, yelling with excitement. “Can you believe this is our life, baby?!” Grace yelled, and you shook your head no. “I can’t either. Anyways. You have to change into a jersey and I have to take pictures of you with it.”

You looked at the jerseys hanging on the wall in front of you and smiled. “Can I have a Nico one, please?”

—♡

AFTER taking pictures with the players and their families— some of them had daughters who loved you as well—, you found yourself near the food table. You were deadass starving and you needed to get your hands on a hot dog before you passed out. Oh, and a drink as well. It was hot there.

“You got the wrong number on your back.”

You heard a playful voice behind you and you would’ve cursed, if you hadn’t had your mouth full of bread. You tried to swallow it all before you actually turned around.

What you saw was… interesting. It was probably one of the youngest guys in there, perhaps even the same age as you, and he had beautiful, blue eyes. He was wearing a white jacket and a Devils cap, so he was definitely one of the players on the team.

“Wrong number?” You asked, looking at your jersey again, the #13 plastered on your arms and back.

“Yeah. Should be wearing an eighty-six jersey instead.” He smirked.

“Let me guess. That’s your number?”

“That’s the best number. A girl like you shouldn’t be wearing anything less.”

You ignored the compliment (was it even a compliment?) and plastered a smirk on your face, too.

“I think I’m fine with Nico’s number on me. Since he’s the captain and all,” you shrugged. “He also went to my concert so that proves he is the best.”

“Sweetheart, you seriously need someone to show you what best means,” he stepped closer and suddenly your heart was racing all over again. “I happen to be the right person for it.”

“Right person?” You chuckled. “Got your hopes way too high, don’t you, lover boy?”

He shrugged, the confident smirk never leaving his face.

“Just an offer. You did say you wanted a Devils inside you.”

You audibly scoffed. This handsome ass man, with the tiniest bit of an accent and a huge lot of an attitude had some balls.

But then again. Last time you had sex with someone was a year ago, with your ridiculous ex-boyfriend, Harris. You were feeling pretty needy, but with all the work and energy you had to put into your performances, you just didn’t find the time to deal with other dipshits.

At least this one looks like he knows here your clit is.

You stepped closer, noticing how you tilted your head up so you could look into his eyes.

“Is the offer still up?”

He smiled, cocking his head to the side.

“For you, doll? It will always be.”

[flowersandskeletons526]

"We Need A Tagger" - Warriors Concept Album Fanfic (Part 1/5)

okay so based off some of their interactions on the album, I am of the firm belief that Ajax was the one to recruit Rembrandt. This is my take on their first meeting and Rembrandt's initiation. Enjoy!

-------

Ajax sat at the table in the Warriors’ tiny apartment, holding a crumpled tissue under her still-bleeding nose. Cleon paced the kitchen around her as she muttered under her breath. In the other room, Cochise sat on the couch thumbing through a newspaper beside their newest addition, the stray Cleon found under the boardwalk and promptly promoted to second-in-command. Ajax was still a little sore about that, but Cleon made the argument that her number two needed to at least sometimes remain level-headed and Ajax couldn’t make a valid point against that. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ajax,” Cleon hissed. “When I said I wanted to expand our territory, I didn’t mean you should go off by yourself to annex two blocks!”

“I thought I was on our turf,” Ajax repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “I swear, Cleon. I wasn’t picking a fight on purpose.”

“This time,” Cochise added.

“Fuck off.”

“If you thought someone was on our turf, you should've gotten us,” said Cleon.

“There were only three of them.”

“And only one of you!”

“Send your assistant on patrols with me if you’re worried about numbers.”

“Hey, fuck you, man!” Swan snapped.

Ajax leapt to her feet and was immediately pushed back into her seat by Cleon. “I made you an enforcer, not a scout,” she said. “You handle the issues the scouts bring in. You don’t go looking for them yourself.”

“We don’t have scouts,” Cochise pointed out. 

“I thought you were gonna talk to your friend that bartends at the Neptune Lounge. The one that’s always wearing that fucking hat.”

“Still trying to convince her.”

“Fuck.”

“We need a tagger,” Swan interjected. “Yeah, we need more members, but that’s just going to cause more problems for us if we don’t mark our borders.”

“For once,” said Ajax, “I agree with the sewer rat.”

“Dude! The fuck!”

“Cool it, you two,” Cleon warned. “Do you have any nominations?”

“I’ll find one,” Ajax offered.

“If you can find a decent tagger that isn’t already affiliated, you have my permission to bring ’em in to talk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And no more fights!”

So ensued two weeks of fruitless searching for an unclaimed graffiti artist. Ajax went halfway insane with frustration by the end of the first week. Every time she found a new artist’s signature, she went back to report and was met with one denial or another. If they weren’t already running with a crew, it was because they were untrustworthy or had been jumped out of their old gang for some offense and Cleon didn’t want someone else’s scraps. 

Swan volunteered to go out for a few rounds with her. She knew more about the political side of things, Ajax could admit that, and since they’d both promised Cleon that they wouldn’t butt heads, the trips passed by in almost complete science. They were out late one evening, the sun setting over the ocean as they patrolled the boardwalk, when Swan stopped before a massive, impressively intricate and detailed graffiti mural sprayed across the front of a shuttered carnival booth.

She whistled as she looked over the painting. “Damn. Someone spent time on this.”

“There are a bunch of these,” Ajax said, standing beside her. “Talked to some of the carnies, they said the things pop up overnight, they get covered or washed off, and the next day there’s a whole new design.”

Swan hummed and nudged the bottom of the grate with her foot. Where she stepped, in gorgeous swirling script, was a signature. “Rembrandt,” she read aloud. “You tell Cleon?”

“Asked her, asked Cochise, asked everyone. No one knows who the guy is, just that he’s talented and prolific.”

“Well.” Swan shrugged. “Let’s find him.”

Easier said than done. When Ajax said no one knew, she meant no one. No one had a clue because no one ever saw the paintings go up. When Ajax explained her plight to the crew, the only help she got was, “You said you would find a tagger, so go find him.”

This resulted in Ajax walking the boardwalk in the dead of night, listening to the waves and her own footsteps and watching out for the sound of spray cans. Her unlucky streak finally broke one night walking past the abandoned parachute tower. She almost thought she was hearing a gas leak at first, a constant hissing from the other side of the structure. She realized it was spray paint when she heard the telltale rattle of a can being shaken.

Crouching low, she crept silently around the base of the tower. A small, slight figure wearing a respirator face mask held a can in each hand, arms flying as the graffiti artist raced through his work. Ajax watched in fascination as he dropped cans into his backpack and pulled out new colors without ever taking his eyes off his canvas, working only by the light of the moon and the city’s distant glow.

She straightened. She’d found the phantom tagger.

“Yo!” She called. The artist froze as she approached. She couldn’t see his eyes beneath his hood, only the mask. “Let me talk to you for a second.”

The artist grabbed his backpack and a paint can and bolted.

“Shit!”

Ajax took off in a chase after the artist. The little fucker was quick and agile, but Ajax was quicker and knew Coney Island like the back of her hand. “Stop!” she shouted. “I just want to talk!” He only ran faster.

Just as she thought she would run out of steam, the artist turned the corner into an alley. He hit the fence at the back hard and started to climb but Ajax had a major height advantage. She grabbed his backpack and yanked him down. He wheeled around, can in hand, and smashed her square in the face with it. 

He was quick but he wasn’t that strong. Ajax was certain the hit at least chipped a tooth, the taste of blood coating her tongue, but she wasn’t stunned. He tried to dart past her. She spun and snagged a fistful of his sleeve, then threw him backwards into the fence with enough force to knock the mask off his face. She wasn’t proud of it - she was trying to recruit the punk, after all - but her mouth hurt from the hit so she considered it a fair trade.

Ajax stood over the artist. On his ass with his back pressed to the fence, he raised a paint can and pointed it at her like a gun. His hand trembled so hard she thought he might drop his improvised weapon. His hood fell back. She finally got a good look at his face.

Staring up at her was a terrified young woman with the saddest deep brown eyes she’d ever seen. She had a busted lip halfway healed and short, wild curls framing her face. She didn’t even try to act tough; she wore the expression of someone who’d been in a similar position and knew she didn’t have the skill to fight her way out of it.

Ajax was violently aware of how dangerous she must have looked at that moment. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t proud of it.

“I’m not tagging,” the girl said before Ajax could get a word out. “I don’t run with anyone. I’m just painting. I swear I was only painting.”

Ajax tried to make her voice sound gentle. “I know. I know you’re not.” She wiped away the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. “Fuck. You really clocked me. Sorry for throwing you, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I’m not tagging,” the girl repeated. “I don’t-”

“I know! Calm down, I just want to talk. I’m not going to hurt you. Really.” She crouched down to the artist’s eye level. “You’re Rembrandt, right? That’s your signature?”

The girl lowered the can. “Yeah,” she said timidly. 

“Call me Ajax. I run with the Warriors.” She extended a hand to shake. Rembrandt didn’t take it. Fair enough. “You don’t have a crew, right? Did you ever run with one?”

“No.”

“Well, listen, we’re looking for a tagger-”

Red and blue lights illuminated the alley. Police sirens blared. Ajax shot to her feet.

“Shit! Why are the cops - wait! No, no, no, wait! Come back!”

But Rembrandt was already over the fence. Ajax roared in frustration and booked it, knowing she couldn’t risk getting jammed up by the cops again.

Mission failed, tail between her legs, Ajax ran home.

---------

“The artist’s a girl?” Cleon asked, huddled around the kitchen table with the rest of the gang. “Damn. I feel a little sexist now.” 

“Her paintings are amazing,” Ajax said. She was still a little breathless from her sprint back to the apartment. “And she’s insanely fast. No way the cops would ever catch her.”

“Apparently no way you could catch her, either.”

“She was listening to me. The cops scared her. That’s why she ran.”

“Take a breath, you look like you’re going to pass out,” said Swan. Ajax flipped her the bird, and she rolled her eyes. “You said she looked scared out of her mind. What makes you think you’re ever going to catch up to her again?”

“She has a point,” Cochise agreed. “Ajax, you know I love you, girl, but you’re not exactly the most, y’know, approachable person.”

“She was listening to me! If I can go out there again, I swear I can find her and get her to come back here and talk to us. Cleon, come on, have my back.” 

Cleon sighed and hung her head. “Alright,” she relented. “If you think you can get her, then go get her.”

So Ajax went.

She sat beside the unfinished painting for five nights straight. She made sure no one covered it or washed it away, hoping the graffiti artist would come back to finish her work, but Rembrandt never showed. When Ajax returned to the apartment in the morning, she was met with the same simple question: “Any luck?” And she would only shake her head before going to pass out in the room she shared with Cochise. Cleon suggested she call off the search by the fourth night of no results, but Ajax couldn’t bring herself to take a step back and she didn’t understand why. Maybe it was simply a sense of duty to succeed at this mission for her gang. Maybe it was the paintings. Maybe it was the fear in the girl’s eyes and the fact that there was so obviously someone beating on her that made Ajax want to find her so badly. 

Cleon offered to come with on the evening of the sixth day, an offer that Ajax declined. “I don’t want to show up with the crew behind me and freak her out,” she explained.

“Ajax, I really can’t afford to keep sending you out. We’ve got other jobs I need you for.”

“Two more nights. Give me a solid week.”

“You get tonight. And if you can’t find her, I’m calling it off. We’ll find another tagger.”

“Fine.”

“Be safe.”

Ajax wandered the boardwalk for a bit before parking herself in front of the unfinished mural. It hadn’t been touched. She sighed and shoved her hands in her vest pockets. This mission was a fucking bust. Two weeks of searching and a week of waiting around and she had nothing to show for it. It was already past midnight and she hadn’t seen a single sign of anyone being out there with her, let alone Rembrandt. She promised herself that she’d stay until dawn and after that, she would give up and call it quits. Still, it sucked. She hated leaving things unfinished.

She wasn’t sure when she dozed off, only that she woke with a start to the quiet patter of footsteps on the weathered wooden planks. She looked up to see the masked, hooded figure standing a little ways off and staring straight at her. She climbed slowly to her feet and raised her hands.

“I’m not packing,” she promised. “I’m here as a friend.”

Rembrandt removed her hood and pulled her mask down around her neck. In addition to the split lip, she now sported a black eye with a scabbed over cut on her cheek beneath it. She kept her left arm tucked in close to her side like it hurt to move it.

Ajax grimaced. “Holy shit, man. Is that-”

“It wasn’t from you. You didn’t throw me that hard,” Rembrandt said quietly. “What do you want from me?”

“My gang needs a tagger.”

“I’m not a tagger.”

“You’ve got more than enough skill to be one. Look, the Warriors are on our way to running Coney Island but first we need someone to define our borders. You said you just want to paint? We’d give you free reign to put up new murals anywhere you want and they wouldn’t keep getting taken down. And whatever’s going on with this…” Ajax gestured to her black eye, and she turned aside to hide it. “We could help with that, too.”

Rembrandt hesitated. “Why me? I can’t fight.”

“You wouldn’t need to, just need to run. That’s why they have me.” Ajax looked over her shoulder at the unfinished painting. She flashed a smile. “How long would it take you to finish this?”

She thought. “Thirty minutes max.”

“Great. I got your six.” Ajax stepped away from the wall and posted up behind the girl, who frowned quizzically at her. “Seriously. Finish it. Just promise you’ll come back to Warriors Headquarters with me when you’re done. My friend makes a great breakfast and our leader is a lot nicer than I am. She wants to meet you.”

Rembrandt only stared at the warrior. Ajax made a little go on gesture before returning to her watch position. She heard cans rattling behind her and the thud of a backpack hitting the boardwalk, then the hiss of spray paint. She waited a minute before glancing back. 

The graffiti artist had her mask back up over her face but left her hood off. She painted with one hand this time, moving slow, her presumably-injured arm hanging limp at her side. Ajax cringed a little internally. She was right; someone was definitely going after her. She caught a glimpse of Rembrandt’s expression, and despite looking like she’d lost a brawl, the look in her eyes was one of complete, pure, calm joy. She was truly in her element, surrounded by a cloud of spray paint, building the shape of the Wonder Wheel and the parachute tower with layers of a rainbow of colors. She added in tiny cartoon creatures running through the city. Ajax almost laughed. 

She leaned against the tower beside the painting. “You got anyone who’s gonna freak out if they think you’re missing?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Rembrandt replied without taking her eyes off her work.

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Any family?”

Rembrandt paused. She turned to Ajax, showing the deep bruise on her face, her eyes downcast as the joy faded and the sadness and fear replaced it. Ajax’s heart softened just a bit.

“Got it,” she said, and faced front again.

The sky was barely beginning to lighten by the time Rembrandt packed up her cans and stuck her mask in her backpack with them. Ajax stood beside her, admiring the painting. “Looks nice,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“So…? Will you come meet with the Warriors?”

Rembrandt shouldered her bag. She shifted her weight between her feet like a little bird ready to take off. Ajax was convinced she might run again and prepared herself for another chase, but Rembrandt buried her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and looked up at the enforcer.

“Who’s your leader?” the artist asked.

“Her name’s Cleon.”

Rembrandt blinked. “Like… like Cleon? Like the Cleon?”

“Yep. The Cleon,” said Ajax. God, the fucking ego boost this was going to give that woman would be astronomical.

“She wants to meet me?”

“Uh-huh. You coming or not?”

“But she’s like - wait, hang on! Yes, I’m coming!”

Ajax led her away from the beach, off the boardwalk and into the surrounding streets. Ajax always kept her head on a swivel, always, and apparently so did Rembrandt. She walked a half step behind Ajax, staying just slightly to the right in case she needed to take off and leave Ajax behind. Fuck, she was flighty. This early in the morning, not many people were out and about yet, but Rembrandt kept her hood up and looked down to hide her face. Ajax waved her hand by her side, and Rembrandt moved to walk directly behind her. She kept stepping on the back of Ajax’s shoes on accident, apologizing profusely each time, but she picked her head up, at least.

Ajax stopped Rembrandt outside the door to the apartment. “Stay behind me,” she said, “and don’t freak out. Cochise is a little loud and Swan’s got major resting bitch face but no one’s gonna go after you. You’re safe here.”

“Okay,” Rembrandt mumbled. 

They stepped inside. Cochise stood over the stove, stirring something in a pan and humming to herself. Swan sat on the couch with DJ Lynne Pen’s show playing quietly over the radio beside her. Cleon was on the phone listening to someone talk and scribbling notes in a small journal. Ajax reached over Rembrandt’s head to shut the door and hollered, “’Sup motherfuckers!” Rembrandt flinched.

Swan looked up with annoyance drawn across her face. “Who are you calling a motherfu-…” Her voice trailed. Cochise and Cleon turned to Ajax. Ajax stepped to the side and gestured to the girl standing next to her.

“Everyone,” she announced with a smile, “meet Rembrandt.”

No one spoke. Rembrandt waved sheepishly.

Cleon said into the phone, “I’ll call you back,” and hung up the receiver. 

“Wow,” said Cochise. “She actually exists.”

Swan stood, staring at Rembrandt’s black eye. “Ajax, what did you-”

“It’s not from her,” Rembrandt interjected. “Um, sorry. Hi.”

Cleon approached. Ajax nudged Rembrandt forward, but the artist backed up into the door instead. Cleon stopped where she was, raised her hands, and offered the same comforting smile that she had given Ajax and Cochise and Swan on all their first interactions. Above all, Cleon could get virtually anyone to calm down and listen to her. 

“Hey, nice to meet you,” she said gently. Ajax watched Rembrandt’s tensed shoulders come down just a fraction of an inch. “I’m Cleon. Rembrandt, right?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Want some breakfast?”

------

And that's the end of the first part! Stay tuned because I am going to continue this

[marlynnofmany]

Mechanical Rhythms

I opened the door to the engine room, ready to declare “Lunch delivery!” but the place was so loud with machinery that I decided to wait. Instead I shut the door behind me and carried the tray of sealed containers past all the viewscreens, gauges, and schematics, and into the labyrinth of passages beyond.

They call it the engine room, but really it’s a whole complex on this spaceship. And it’s not usually this loud. All the thumps, roars, and dings seemed to be at max volume somehow.

When I reached the part that was normally smooth walls and amorphous shapes, I saw why. All the covers were off. Some were retracted into the ceiling, some swung open like window shutters, and more lay cluttering up the walkway along with a chaotic spread of tools.

From somewhere among the exposed wires and pipes, a gruff voice muttered angrily.

“Hey Mimi,” I said over the whooshing noises of the pipes. “I’ve got lunch for you.”

“Thanks,” said the voice, sounding tired. And gravely. I found it amusing that our engineer sounded just like any number of crusty old mechanics back home. Mimi’s voice was balanced out by the fact that his name was Mimi, and he looked like an octopus. “Put it on top of the big toolbox, will you?” he said, sticking a tentacle out from behind something shaped like a pipe organ.

“Sure,” I said. I was pretty sure I knew which one he meant. “It’s heated but sealed, so you can get to it when you’re ready.”

“Think I’ll take a break now,” he said. “This is obnoxious and a half.” More pale green tentacles emerged, followed by his round octopus head, and Mimi clambered expertly over the mess to plop down next to the food tray.

I looked around. “What’s happening? Eggskin said you were working on something that might take a while.”

“It wasn’t supposed to,” Mimi griped as he twisted a lid off. “I was just checking for efficient fuel use, since something wasn’t firing right, and now I’ve been tracking the flipping-flailing problem all day!” He dumped something into his mouth that looked like grapes. “I had other thingzh I wuz gonna do,” he grumbled.

“Sounds annoying,” I said. “Made any progress, at least?”

“Oh sure,” he replied, pointing a tentacle over his head at the set of pipes. “Tracked the problem to that area. One of ‘em isn’t in synch with the rest, and I am not looking forward to disassembling the housing so I can figure out which.”

The pipes were a dull coppery-brown, without any of the translucence of certain other engine parts. “Yeah, I guess you can’t really see from here, huh?”

“Nope,” Mimi said, prying at another container. “If I ever meet the pebble-brain who designed this ship, I will have words for them.”

I moved closer, picking out the sounds of these engine parts over the others. Kind of a whoosh-whirr-wheet. “Can you tell anything by listening?”

Mimi spoke over a mouthful of food. “Like what?”

“You said one was out of synch. Does it make a different noise?”

With a wave of tentacles that I took to mean I doubt it, or maybe You’re welcome to try, Mimi focused on his lunch.

Well. Whyever not.

I stepped over more tools to where I could stick my face up close to the noisy things. At least this part wasn’t the loudest — that honor was reserved for the whump-screech rhythm from the boiler-looking dealie down the way. I didn’t know what any of this stuff did.

When I listened from up close, I found a surprisingly catchy beat to the noises. It reminded me of the dishwasher my parents had when I was a kid. Fond memories of dancing in front of it. I’ve always taken my small joys where I find them, and I’m pretty sure that stemmed from a good upbringing. Any family that encouraged kids to dance to dishwasher noises is one that can find fun anywhere.

I moved along the row of pipes, listening to each in turn, nodding to the beat until I found something that didn’t match.

Whoosh-whirr-wheet.

Whoosh-whirr-wheet.

Whoosh-whirr…whirr…

“It’s this one,” I said, standing back and pointing.

“What? How can you tell?” Mimi demanded.

“It dropped the beat,” I said.

“What?”

“It doesn’t match the rhythm of the others.”

Mimi scrambled over, lunch forgotten. “You can hear that?”

“Well yeah, it’s pretty obvious when you listen for it,” I said, giving him space. I watched as he clambered around, listening intently with the little ear holes in the side of his squishy head, sometimes pressing between the pipes in a way someone with solid bones could never manage. There was a reason Strongarms made good mechanics.

But apparently not all the reasons.

“I have no idea what you’re hearing,” Mimi declared, pulling back out.

“It’s this one,” I repeated. “The other ones are going whoosh-whirr-wheet, but this one gets stuck on the whirr.”

Mimi stared at me for a moment. “Stay right there,” he said, scrambling down to a bank of dials and levers. “Tell me if you hear any change. The third one, right?”

“Yeah.” I listened from close to the pipes while he adjusted things down at the bottom. Gradually, the rhythm shifted. “Oh, it’s getting better!”

“See if you can tell me when it matches,” Mimi said.

“Almost there,” I said. “It’s making the wheet noise now, just at the wrong time.” I nodded along, drumming on the air to the rhythm of the other pipes while Pipe Number Three gradually synched up. “Wait, too far,” I told Mimi. “It’s too early now.”

Muttering something indistinct, Mimi adjusted more dials.

“There! You got it!” I stood back, grinning.

“You’re sure?” Mimi asked from the console.

“Yeah, it’s a perfect match now. Ready to dance to.” I shimmied in place, appreciating the beat and not particularly caring if it wasn’t dignified.

“I’ll run the diagnostic again,” Mimi said as he tentacle-walked over to a different control panel. “If that fixed it, I will be amazed.”

I danced among the tools for the few seconds it took to run the diagnostic.

“Welp,” Mimi said. “It’s official. I’m amazed.”

“Did we fix it?” I asked, standing up with a grin.

“It appears that we did,” he said. Waving his tentacles in a baffled sort of way, he looked from me to the panel. “Thanks. You’re useful to have around.”

“And you’re welcome!” I replied. “Happy to help. Now you can finish your lunch before Eggskin starts griping about organic maintenance.”

“We can’t have that, now can we?” Mimi said. “Maybe I’ll eat somewhere quieter, and put the sound baffles back in place afterward.”

“Great idea,” I agreed. “As catchy as this music is, it’s a bit loud for lunch.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character in this book. More to come!

[jelzorz]

167b.

(167a)

The Nova Blade is bigger and heavier than Callum thought it would be. It fits awkwardly in his hand, too large to be wieldy, heavy enough to make his wrist hurt if he holds it outstretched for too long, long enough to run down the length of his back and then some as he and Rayla made their way back to Katolis.

Now, it lies horizontally across his desk, almost the full length of it, the ivory stark and foreboding against the polished grain. He's been sleeping up here recently anyway, because there's so much to do, and it's easier to just stay instead of head down to his room, and at least this way the Nova Blade is in reach, in case—

In case of emergencies.

The others still aren't happy with him. Every conversation he's had with Ez since their return has been clipped and full of tension. Opeli's disapproval is obvious in the way her lips tilt downwards everytime he enters a room. Soren he just avoids, because he hates the sneer, the warnings, and the way Soren looks at him like he's one moment away from turning into the same monster Viren was, which makes him mad more than it makes him feel guilty.

They won't even let him near the pearl, which, he supposes, is for the better, but he doesn't like the way it feels like they don't trust him either. The chamber it's in is locked now, and the key lives on Soren's person who is immune to even Stella's sticky fingers, and all the while, the Nova Blade is there and ready, and if they'd just let him—

"Do you even know how use it?"

Callum scowls. This morning's council meeting is tense for a number of reasons but it's the first formal one they've had since his and Rayla's return. Soren stares him down from the other side of the table, blue eyes icy and hard and unimpressed.

"It's just a sword," bristles Callum. "How hard can it be to stab a thing?"

Soren snorts, which only annoys Callum more. "Feels light and easy to use, does it?"

"I—" Callum scowls. "I can figure it out."

"Like you figured out how to use the hand-and-a-halfs everyone else uses."

Silence. Callum feels his face burn because everyone in the room knows how poorly he handled swords when he was younger, how Soren had tried to coax him into learning more in Rayla's absence only for him to grow impatient and leave before a single lesson had finished. He hasn't touched a blade since—and why should he? He's a mage, and he's never needed a reason to, and he can fight with magic better anyway.

"It's a two handed sword," says Soren. "It's different from the one you used when you were training with me. It's designed to let its weight to do the work. You can't use it like the standard issue swords here or you'll hurt yourself."

Callum scowls again. "Just say what you want to say," he snaps. "I'm not in the mood for another lecture."

"He's saying you should learn how to use it," Opeli cuts in, clearly sensing the danger. "With respect, Prince Callum, you cannot seriously expect to use it against Aaravos if you don't even know how to hold it."

"If there's even a need to use it at all," mutters Ez sourly.

Another pause. Another long moment that Callum uses to scowl at everyone but Rayla, only for Rayla to say, "They're right."

Callum rounds on her but she only shifts uneasily in her seat. "You can't use it against him if you can't use it at all. I know you're worried about his influence over you, Callum, but the best way to make sure you can take him is to learn how to use the only weapon we know will work."

"How am I gonna do that?" grumbles Callum. "Where am I gonna get that kind of instruction?"

One more pause. Everyone turns their heads towards Soren and Callum almost walks out entirely.

"No."

"He's the only one here who can use a greatsword, Prince Callum," points out Opeli.

"Why can't Rayla teach me?"

Soren scoffs. "Her blades aren't even little bit the same."

"Oh, right, and you were such a great teacher when we were kids."

"He's better now," snaps Ez. "You would know that if you'd pulled your head out of your butt enough to learn from him while Rayla was gone. Are you seriously so proud you'd rather go in not having any idea what you're doing?"

Callum scowls at them all a third time. Soren's accusations still ring in his ears, and Soren takes one look and knows that it's all he can hear.

"You don't wanna be like him, right?" he says, a challenge in his voice. "Here's your chance. Admit you don't know. Learn how to use the sword."

"Callum." That's Rayla. She reaches across the table to him and touches his hand. Something in her eyes stalls him: something in amongst the fear and concern that he hopes might be the remnants of what they had two years ago; something that might burn for him still.

He relents.

He starts training with it at dawn.

[sweetiesicheng]

wonwoo - video games

word count : 514

-

"come on, come on..." you mumbled out loud, not caring if people could hear you. after a few seconds, you managed to destroy a tower on screen. "finally!"

you sat back in the chair you were sitting on just as you finished a round of the game you were playing. sighing in relief, you picked up your water bottle and drank some water before putting your bottle back down on the floor next to you.

"there you are."

you looked up and saw your boyfriend walking towards you. he had headphones around his neck and had his backpack slinging over one shoulder.

"oh, hey," you greeted with a smile.

"what are you doing here? why aren't you at the other place?" he asked, sitting down on the chair next to you.

"it's closed today. joshua said that they're having a party or something, so it’s booked all day long," you answered. "done with class?" you asked him.

"professor cancelled, so i just stayed in my dorm to finish my coding assignments," wonwoo mentioned. "hungry?" he asked you.

you pointed to the plastic bag on the floor that had a bunch of open wrappers inside. wonwoo peeked over and nodded his head.

"cool, looks like i'll just go buy something for myself then. i'll be back," he said to you before walking away.

"can you get me a drink? i want a soda," you asked only to hear him hum in response. "thank you, love."

you started playing another round of the game while wonwoo was buying stuff. he returned a few minutes later since the nearest store was two stores away. you were in the middle of a round when he had returned.

"did the update already come out?" wonwoo asked you when he sat down, noticing new items on your screen. you heard the plastic bag rustle as he started taking stuff out of bag.

you nodded, "yea. last night. you didn't know?" you asked him.

"nah, i've been studying."

"stop lying to yourself. i bet you were playing that game hansol has been playing all month," you replied to him with a chuckle, earning a flick to side of your head, "ow!" you yelled.

"here, take a sip."

he brought the soda can to your lips and helped you take a sip of the carbonated beverage. after a few minutes, you won the round of the game and cheered in excitement.

wonwoo just chuckled before turning on the monitor next to you.

"you're playing?" you asked him and grabbed a snack bag from the pile that he had bought from the store.

"what else am i gonna do here? sing?" he replied sarcastically to you. "make a lobby for me to join."

"you’re just gonna beat me every time. you always have the better score in team games,” you complained with a slight pout.

wonwoo smiled and moved the chair closer to you.

“just because i want to be the best doesn’t mean i’m number one in my eyes. you are,” he said before kissing your cheek. “now hurry up.”

“so demanding…”

[emphasisonthehomo]

So, buck's dick so good that makes Tommy an all star player?🤭🤣

Love that piece! As I am an amateur hockey fan, I really like this snippet!

Is there Christopher somewhere? Bc he is getting three dads for one.

Also, how do you think the buddietommy will get together ? Or there will be endless pining from the Eddie side?

How did buck and Tommy get together? Also, is Tommy trans in this one too?

The headlines about this relationship have the potential to be hilarious.

Post In Question

Lol, there is definitely more than just Buck's dick involved, so strap in because I'm gonna get into detail for how Tommy's last NHL season becomes his career best.

(And also answer your other questions.)

(Also also this got long.)

First I should mention why Tommy hasn't been an All Star before. It's a numbers game. The NHL selects far fewer goalies for the All Stars than they do other positions. Tommy's also never managed to be on a team that has really serious Stanley Cup contention (he's been in the playoffs quite a few times, his career has been a long one, but always out in first or second round) so he just... hasn't ever really been considered for it. He hasn't had that special combo of popularity + skill + winning team before.

The main factor in Tommy actually becoming an All Star Goaltender is, unfortunately, the rookie getting injured. Tommy's ancient and decrepit by NHL standards (38? 39? practically a crypt keeper) his knees and hips are garbage and everything hurts all the time. He's always been a Good Goalie, c'mon he does this professionally, but he hasn't been a starting goalie in a while. Just getting the opportunity to start, an opportunity he wouldn't have otherwise, is a huge leg up.

He didn't sign w/ the team (LA Kings?🤮) to be a starting goalie, and everyone knows it. Spittin' Chiclets has made comments along the lines of 'wow, Kinard is still playing?' He's there to be a reliable backup, to offer some quality mentorship to the rookie, and to have something to do in his last season before he announces retirement. But then the rookie gets injured way early in the season. I'm talking like game 4 or something. Tommy steps in and steps up. No one, least of all him, expects things to go where they do.

It's a dramatic mid game switch. They're on the road. Someone on the opposing team falls onto the rookie mid butterfly and the kid gets stretchered off. It's bad. So Tommy heads out to the net, it's his first time in goal for a game since the pre-season. He's nervous, of course he's nervous. But more than that he's determined.

Mentality contributes to any position, but it's got more of an influence on goal tending. Tommy's got nothing to lose at this point, but also crucial (for him anyway) nothing to win. In his head he's not going to be a starting goalie again, the team probably won't be a serious contender for The Cup. All he has to do is play and play well. He's gotta make sure that when the rookie does return from IR, it's not to a metaphorical dumpster fire.

Now Tommy's been playing professionally/semi-professionally for a long time. Almost 20 years. He's been in goal since he was a kid. This is what he does, this is what he's good at. His career has had some ups and downs, but he's older now. He likes to think he's wiser. This is his last season, he made that decision months ago. He wants to end his career with dignity. Going out with a bang isn't on his mind, but he knows he doesn't want to go out with a whimper.

And then he fucking shuts the door.

He shuts the fucking door, and because of that they manage to come up from a 0-2 deficit to win 3-2. As the buzzer sounds both Buck and Eddie are right there, slamming into him for the triumphant post win hug. It's not a shutout, not technically. But it's a shutout for him, and he's pretty damn happy with it.

The next game though. The next game another (even younger) kid is brought up from the feeder team as backup. Tommy gets a proper shutout, and that's when coaching starts to think seriously about how they want to do things. Tommy winds up starting in goal for the rest of the road trip. And then after the team gets home and it becomes clear that their injured rookie will be out for months, Tommy gets the green light to start in general.

It's an opportunity he never thought he'd have again, and because of that Tommy fucking locks in. Spittin' Chiclets is stunned and in awe. What are the odds? He's playing good hockey in a way he hasn't since he was 32. Unlike the last time he was on fire like this, their team is also humming along. And unlike last time there's a story. The NHL loves a story. Veteran goaltender playing some of his best hockey in what everyone assumed would be his last year is a good story.

And it's also because of that, because it's his last season and he's decided to fucking go for it, Tommy decides to also do something monumentally stupid and kiss a teammate. He's spent his entire career in the closet. When he was a rookie he wouldn't even look at other men during the season, much less hookup. As he got older he did slowly come out of his shell, but he was still very careful about it.

One night in November Evan Buckley is gushing about the (frankly insane) scorpion save Tommy managed in the second period. And Tommy's looking at him and thinking "huh" before stepping in close. Evan's gaze snaps down to Tommy's mouth like it's been magnetized, and Tommy decides "fuck it" and goes for the kiss. That kiss leads to a lot more than just kissing.

And so Tommy winds up with career high statistics in his last season. He's confident in himself in a way he never has been before, settled in a way he never thought he would be, and he's deliriously happy with his secret boyfriend. Completely ignorant of the fact that his friend Eddie Diaz is spiraling because of said secret boyfriend.

He gets selected for All Stars for the first time, and is flummoxed because he'd made plans to go be on a beach somewhere like he does every year, and now he has to cancel that.

AS FOR CHRISTOPHER!

Yes, he's around. Eddie is almost neurotic in his attempts to keep Chris out of the media. The team PR kind of hates it, because "NHL Player with Special Needs Son" is frankly clickbait catnip. But they also can't force Eddie to do anything, and Eddie has made it clear he'll put his foot down about it. Eddie's marriage imploded dramatically in the news, and Shannon is MIA (but alive, because I said so) and he's got full custody. The only time Chris is ever on camera is when there's a family skate for a fucking Winter Classic or something, and he's in the background with Buck and Eddie helping him stay vertical on the ice.

There is quite a bit of pining on Eddie's part. He loves Buck. Buck has been his best friend (and sometimes lover) for years. He likes Tommy a lot too. Their friendship took off like a rocket, and Eddie's already at the point where he can't imagine Tommy not being in his house with him and Buck. Tommy grills a mean steak. Tommy is terrible at video games and will good naturedly let Eddie, Chris, and Buck destroy him at Mario Cart over and over again.

It hurts like pressing a bruise. Buck and Tommy are clearly so happy together. Eddie can't stop thinking about it. He wonders why this is different. Why Buck decided to go for something serious with Tommy instead of Eddie, when Eddie's been here the whole time. Simultaneously, Eddie wonders what Tommy saw in Buck that he didn't see in Eddie. It seems like when they hang out, it's always the three of them. He has very complicated feelings about the fact that he wants to kiss them both.

At the same time, this all feels secondary to what's happening on ice. During the pre-season all of the talking heads spoke about their team like they'd probably maybe be playoff hopefuls next season. Now everyone is abuzz because they've got a Very Good Chance of being playoff hopefuls now. Eddie doesn't have time for a crisis, because there's hockey to be played.

Because this is a fic, they get together after winning The Stanley Cup. Of course.

Tommy's not in net for all of the playoffs (his knees hurt so bad) but he's in net for A Lot of it. He's in net when the buzzer sounds on game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals. They've squeaked a win 4-3. It was down to the wire. Buck slams into him as soon as the clock winds down to zero, and Tommy sobs openly into the stinky sweaty fabric of Buck's jersey. Eddie is right there, pressing a cartoonish and smacking kiss to the top of Tommy's helmet.

In the champagne fueled blur of a celebration, they all wind up falling into bed together. It's basically all frotting, they're too drunk for anything more coordinated. And then have the most awkward discussion the next morning when they're a combination of brutally hungover (Tommy) still drunk from the night before (Eddie) and somehow??? sobered up??? (Buck)

You should assume Tommy is trans in everything I write. My little lizard brain wants Tommy to also be trans for this, because that's just how my mind works. The logistics of it are complicated. Either this is an au where the NHL is way cooler with stuff than they are IRL, or Tommy has just been closeted the whole time, which is practically impossible. Either way this is a tangled mess of masculinity and sexuality and gender. Delicious.

Anyways. Tommy announces his retirement with a picture of him holding the cup. And then goes to Eddie's house to kiss his boyfriends hello and help Buck make a lasagna, while Eddie works with Chris on his homework.

I think if they were to come out as a cute little throuple, it would happen after all three of them retire.

[twoforflinching-ktbedition]

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

XIII▸ You needn't apologise for anything, Jae. It's clear you've had an eventful time of things lately; regarding a matter of affections, I'm given to understand congratulations are in order :}c whether for you, or your Suzerain. Perhaps both? Levity aside once more, I am happy to hear you enjoy your life where you are. It is by far easier to bear with a complex situaiton both legally and politically when one is in company they care for. Xe is lucky to have you in xer service; I have not known you for long, but I believe this. I have full faith you will keep one another safe in your upcoming duel.

XIII▸ Hm. Good lord that Nokia sounds like some sturdy technology. Your analogy makes perfect sense now, yes; it is remarkably remenescent of the Drake. I may pilot for Harrison and I am encouraged to maintain the company image, but I will happily admit I share your fondness for IPS-N frames. Practicality as a calling above all else has produced some truly functional pieces of mechanics, and I personally find the almost industrial design philosophy deeply interesting! I will have to ask you more about your opinions on other frames, I think it could be an enthralling discussion :}

XIII▸... you have asked me a few things, more telling than I think you realise. But, given things I have learned recently? Perhaps- it may be about time to set aside my dramatics, anyway. I hope you won't begrudge me upholding them for as long as I have. A complicated situation can occasionally make people... disquieted, with me. It has been nice, speaking with another like I am just another soldier. I hope we can keep doing that.

XIII▸I am something akin to one of the supersoldier programs yes; I am a flashclone under the Armory's Series project. My given name is Thirteen-E, which I have seen abbreviated a few times now to simply T-E. There are any number of ways to write my name, and I am not inclined toward preferences so- whichever one you wish to use :} I suppose if I am being open with my identity now, I can offer a more specific condolences regarding your legal situation. I am the center of my own extended case at the moment, which has been... trying. If you wish to complain at greater length about that at any point in time, it may be suitably cathartic for us both.

XIII▸ Now that I have expressed details of my identity, I would like to state that I am happy to answer any questions you may have regarding my situation, so long as I am able to! I know it is an... odd state of being, to most. Even amongst the Legionnaires I often find myself outlining the purpose and purview of my Project line. And I certainly still have plenty of time, as while I am on the mend the laceration to my leg is proving stubborn. I remain on bedrest :/

XIII▸ I will try to, as you put it, rest up :} I hope we can continue to speak like this. I... I have also come to rather look forward to our correspondence. I wish you luck in your upcoming melee.

[ XIII-E // @xiii-e ]

Hey, kiddo, I'm sorry I ain't been too quick to respond to ya lately, I just needed a bit to sit with this one, I think.

I thank ya for the congratulations, me 'n Arvantiel have been pretty damn happy with this new arrangement. I ain't gotta worry so much 'bout xem and xey don't gotta stew in silence about aer feelings like ae always do. Ain't never worth it to bottle that shit up and let it fester, all it's gonna do is be way more destructive when ya finally get 'round to it, and if you ain't gonna get around to it yourself then it'll do it for you.

Speakin' of, I ain't ever gonna judge ya for keepin' your secrets. I ain't entitled to anythin', and I can see why you'd wanna keep your whole situation under wraps. It's a fuckin' rough one and I can see people bein' weird about it. I got my own feelings, of course, but they're mine and ain't gotta affect you. 'Least I know even Armory clones think IPS-N's better.

A flashclone, huh? Nice to know y'all find it worth it to come speak with me for some fuckin' reason. I heard every once in a while 'bout Armory clones when I was on the Shore. Some Harrison fucks we'd be fightin' with on one planet would be talkin' about some savin' grace kinda superhuman medic, spoke of 'em kinda like a tool, though, a canary in a fuckin' coal mine or somethin'.

Thirteen-E, huh? Feels familiar. We mighta served together once or twice, maybe even met. My memory ain't what it used to be, y'know, but something's definitely there. Apologies if we have met 'n I just don't remember, a lotta stuff 'round my time on the Shore's real fuzzy for me.

Well, kiddo, you're doin' good work out there regardless of my feelings on flashclones 'n shit. You ever need help, you come to me and I got you. I'm proud you're at least restin' up now, gotta stay in one piece to keep savin' people. You play too fast 'n loose with yourself out there and you'll end up like me.

I ain't gonna pry too much, but I do gotta ask: what do you do when you ain't on the field? Can't imagine the Armory lets their clones fuck around on shore leave all that much, but with Union breathin' down their neck they must be givin' you at least a bit of lenience. Fuck, my legal situation's a mess but yours gives me a damn migraine.

Take care, kiddo.

-Han Jae-

[a-driftamongopenstars]

too much to ask; cayde & guardian

exploring some personal thoughts about Cayde through my Guardian :) been really looking forward to writing this ficlet! also on ao3

An equal measure of grief and accord settles around the small camp. A few empty bottles of wine sit by a folding chair, the Ghosts are quietly huddling together, giving space to their Guardians. Crow, after giving the Guardian and Cayde a small drowsy smile, has walked away to join Zavala and Ikora as they overlook the endless valley of the Pale Heart, contemplating. 

Cherish finds herself alone with Cayde. He comes to sit on the ground next to her, plucking a grass stem and fixing it in his mouth. 

“They are not very subtle, are they,” Cayde says. “Really want us to talk, huh.”

“Maybe we should.”

“Not to be all Crow-like, but I agree. We do need to talk, something important.”

Cherish looks at him, a curious sideways glance. 

It's been ages since they have shared a moment like this together. Never been good friends, not even as a mentor and mentee. A friction that neither could express or smooth out. But something companionable always tried to bloom between them. Maybe back then, she wasn't ready yet. And he didn’t want to push.

“You've changed,” Cayde says, and her spine crawls with a shiver. He notices and adds, “Hey, that's not a bad thing. If we all stay the same, what kinda world would that be? Change is beautiful. Painful, uncomfortable, but beautiful. And you turned it around. Look at you.”

Pride swells in her chest, tightening. At what cost is a question that hangs in the air. 

“It… wasn't easy. When you died.”

“Straight to the point, I see. Always liked that about you.”

“I mean it, Cayde,” she turns to look at him, meeting eye to eye. “You died, and I was meant to pick up the pieces. Go on a murder spree, stray from everything I've ever known, and when it was all done, I watched a man die - with a part of myself.”

Cayde's bright glowing eyes focus on her. She wants him to feel her desperate pain that still echoes from that time. Her confusion that muddled the thoughts, her headstrong intentions as she scoured the Reef for Uldren and for answers.

“It's a lot to ask of you, I understand.”

“It was expected as it was questioned. If I could become a vigilante overnight, then why couldn't others. And if I didn’t go and become one, then that would have sent the wrong message.”

Cayde sighs and moves a little closer. To her own surprise, she does the same, until their arms touch. And as another surprise, she finds her fingers encrusted with a layer of Stasis ice, crumbling at her notice. 

It's been too long since those thoughts surfaced quite so physically, and she suddenly feels drained. 

“I'm not gonna apologise,” Cayde prefaces, “but I get it. Maybe even more than you think. And I wish you weren't put in that position. And for that, I am sorry. The Vanguard always asks a lot of you.”

For a moment, they are quiet. 

“So… How did that happen?”

“What?”

Cayde glances over to Crow whose back is still turned, his cape softly flowing with the wind. 

Cherish huffs, rolling her eyes, but her lips are already smiling. 

“No, no, I'm not judging. Just curious. You keep giving each other those eyes and I keep wanting to push y’all into a tent and let you get on with it. Still, wonder how that came ‘round. Can't imagine it being all sunshine and rainbows after… Well.”

“Yeah... We did have some monster hunting, some Ascendant Plane racing, having the Traveler’s premonitions, being babysat by Savathun in disguise…”

As she numbers it off on her fingers, Cayde laughs.

“Well hold on there, tiger, not so fast. A who in disguise?”

“Don't tell me Crow didn't update you on that particular situation. He's efficient with his reports.”

“I'm well aware,” Cayde hums. “But I'd like to hear that from you. If you wanna share. Penny for your thoughts?”

Their eyes meet, and for a moment Cherish feels that maybe that camaraderie, long time in the making, can finally happen. She is different, she did change. So did Cayde.

He offers her an empty hand, and she squeezes it, holding on. But somehow, that handshake is worth a hundred thousand pennies - and a small pile of glimmer. 

[weird-dere-writes]

The way I would SHOVE Sakura out of the way and be in your space like 🙂 “correction. Nirei isn’t his friend he’s MY Bestfriend 🙂🙂🙂.”

I see you glance his way a second time and I’m just sipping punch and spouting off facts like “he’s single. a virgo. could save your life with his type O blood. Do you wanna say hi? 🙂🙂🙂”

Sakura has to literally drag my nosy ass away when Akihiko makes his rounds to chat up everyone and comes to politely introduce himself to you when he doesn’t recognize your face. He gets excited about the outfit you wore to the party and starts asking you questions about where you shop/and is genuinely interested in learning more about your vibes.

I’m like the grinch smiling watching your meet cute unfold rubbing my hands together like a grubby little fly on the wall while sakura is shoving me out the door so he can get his one on one time with me aksnsjkwjw

No but seriously, akihiko nirei is my blorbo bestie fr TELL ME MOREEEE 👀

PLSSSSS KAIL UR GONNA KILL ME LMAO

The more you spit random facts about him, the more I want to hide, bc I know if you're doing that I am obvious to you! And if you can tell, then probably others at the party can too!! 😖

"Do you wanna say hi?"

YES.

But also NO.

I am just a baby I cannot do this 🫣.

I finally get a breather when Sakura pulls you away ONLY TO HAVE MY HEART JUMP UP INTO MY THROAT WHEN AKIHIKO MATERIALIZES OUT OF NOWHERE.

Something about the way he introduces himself calms me, though. And when he starts gushing about my outfit, I feel flattered because I wasn't sure it was dressed right for this kind of party? I'm just a soft girly in a slay world.

(Le fit)

When he asks me about where I shop, I tell him I don't shop much, but when I do, I go to (insert place here). A lot of the stuff they have is cute and actually fits a body like mine! And he just lights up because that is one of his favorite places to get clothes and accesories too!

He tells me a funny story about something that happened to him there one time and my eyes just about pop put of my sockets laughing because I realize I was actually there at the time to witness this silly thing happen. And I'm just like "OMG WAIT- that was you?!"

And he hits me back with a "OMG WAIT- you saw that?!"

And we're both just smiling and laughing about it.

I'm enjoying myself so much I don't even notice the grubby fly hand rubbing aura that I normally 100% would from miles away emanating from you LMAO.

From there, we kinda just start talking and sticking to one another for most of the party (except for when bofurin boys drag him away for something, but he always comes back).

At some point during the party I notice you and Haruka are gone and I have that same energy of grinch smile and grubby fly hand rubbing, knowing EXACTLY what you two are doing but as BF and GF now >:DDDDDDD. Me making a mental note in my head to tease u and ask about all the details later 😏.

BUT N E WAY. As the party is wrapping up, Nirei tells me he thinks I'm really pretty and I get so bashful about it sobs. Since you and Haruka are still long gone in the high heavens of the bone zone somewhere (pffft), Nirei offers to take me home <3.

We exchange numbers and have started texting here and there since then uwu 🫶🏾.

[3416]

okay. SO! i’m not a veteran hockey fan i’m a relative rookie (haha) and i would very much appreciate your expertise… i feel like bertuzzi is a good player?? i know he doesn’t have any goals but the way he plays and seemingly gives it his all is crazy impressive and i thought he was really good with mitch and auston? but he’s no longer with them in the starting line and so i’m wondering am i missing something or is this a keefe thing or maybe both… also i don’t like reaves how do you feel about him im so sorry for unloading all of this I JUST LOVE YOUR OPINIONS ON THE LEAFS!!!

JFLKDSJKLF I'M AFRAID I WOULDN'T CALL MYSELF A VETERAN EITHER, LOL, but i do appreciate that people want to hear my opinions, though they're evolving as i learn more and more. but THANK YOU FOR ASKING MY OPINION, I LOVE TALKING, LET'S GO. SORRY FOR THE LONG POST.

bertuzzi basically became a big name at the trade deadline last year as one of the most viable guys being moved around bc teams were trying to bulk up for the playoffs. he was traded to the bruins where it took him a bit of time to warm up tbh.. he played 21 regular season games with them and only scored 4 goals 12 assists, but then scored 5 goals 5 assists in their 7 playoff games before elimination... that made him a really big target during free agency this summer bc he kinda popped off under the most pressure w the playoffs, and the leafs were basically looking to acquire forwards who can do that and bring "grit". now personally..... i don't think watching 1 round of playoff performance is like the wisest decision when he's actually a VERY injury prone player.. like he's good when he's healthy but that's not smth you can predict. but i was also kind of fine with it bc we do need left wingers on this team and it's only a one year deal. at this point i'm feeling very ????? about him because... like the underlying numbers aren't horrible but he's just not finishing. he DOES have 2 goals and 1 assist so far, but plays aren't really like... being completed it feels like when he's out there. keefe's obviously not happy with him after demoting him to 4th line last night and saying he wasn't listening to the way he needed to simplify his game, and idk anything in depth abt the leafs setup or systems or technicalities to their game specifically so. IDK.... i don't know if it's just gonna take him some time to warm up here like it did in boston? or if he's being deliberately ornery/doesn't like it here like boston fans were implying yesterday lol (i doubt it... lol he wants good stats jsut as much as anyone going into ANOTHER contract year lmfao...). there's just no way to know... idk a lot about him personally besides the anti-vax stuff but i've mostly just been... kinda unimpressed with him both on the ice and off it. i don't think he's doomed, i think we just need more time to see.

reaves... i'm gonna be honest and say i have NO clue why he was a target for us or treliving this summer, lol. there is so much discussion about bringing an intangible 'toughness' to this team despite us bringing in some mean players like simmonds and muzzin in the past ... tried it last year at the trade deadline under dubas too with schenn and ror... didn't REALLY work.. and i'm like ? why did we think it was a good idea to overpay and overcommit to a player like reaves who does nothing but offer fights on the ice and good vibes off it. like treliving hadn't been around the leafs long enough to know what they needed in the ~room~, although he did know they lost guys like holl and kerfoot who were universally liked as people so??? maybe that's what he was trying to fill?? i like ryan a lot as a person, but i do think he's actually doomed from a hockey player/stats perspective like.. we will not be getting anything more out of him as a player, and frankly after yesterday where he didn't really fight or get pushy with anyone after the marchand thing... and hasn't since the second game... i'm not sure we'll get the fighting aspect much either.

[quanticowrites]

This is a fine mess we're in Pt. 1 (Henry Standing Bear x Reader)

•• OMG IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I WROTE ANYTHING! I am happy to see others getting into Longmire 👀 and that may have sparked something in me to write this yesterday. I hope you all enjoy! 🥰••

One thing that was nice about living in Durant, was the stillness at night. Even for a small city like Durant was. Tonight was a quiet July Saturday night, and Henry had the ceiling fans on high to try and keep air moving throughout the bar. The sounds of the crickets and cicadas outside were almost drowning out the music coming from the jukebox in the far corner. You and Henry were busy cleaning up the bar. On Saturday nights The Red Pony closed at 2, but you both usually stayed another hour or so to get it cleaned up before leaving. Well, at least before you left. Henry lived above the bar. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him pause and look at the clock.

“Go on home, (y/n). I can finish this in the morning.” You’d been working for the man for three years, and every Saturday night he pulled the same trick. He never finished it in the morning. It was forgotten about until Tuesday and you both had to rush to finish cleaning before you opened. You’d only let that happen a few times.

“Henry, you know damn well I ain’t doing that.” You smiled with a grunt as you flipped a chair onto a table. “It will be easier just to finish it now.” Henry didn’t have time to give a smart remark as you both jumped at the doors being swung open so hard they crashed into the walls, cracking some picture frames. A man rounded the corner.

“Hey! The bar’s closed! Sorry buddy!” You stated, looking him over. He looked like he’d gone through the wringer. His hair was jetting out every which way and he was caked in sweat. He put his hand up on the doorframe to the bar room and stumbled forward. A bloody handprint was left behind.

“I think y’all are gonna do what I tell ya.” He smirked. You took a fearful step back as he pulled out a gun from the back of his pants. While lifting his jacket you could see that he’d been shot in the lower abdomen. That explained the bloody hand. He quickly pointed it at Henry. “Now you, Cheyenne. Get over there. You too.” You and Henry complied with his order, going to stand beside the Jukebox. He motioned with his gun as he walked behind the bar. “Down on the ground, both of ya.” You crouched before leaning up against the Jukebox.

At the same time, the music shifted to a much louder song and the man snarled, showing his blood-stained teeth. “Shut that piece of junk off!” You hated seeing how your hand shook as you reached around to the other side to unplug it. Being so close to everyone at the Sheriff’s Department, you thought you’d be more than prepared for this type of scenario. You were wrong.

“What do you want?” Henry asked defiantly. His voice stayed as strong as ever. He might have been doing it for your benefit. He probably saw how scared you were. “Just take the money in the cash register and leave.” Henry dictated that last word in a much harsher tone. He laughed.

“I just hit the biggest bank in Durant, I don't need your money.” He picked up the phone before starting to dial a number. “We’re gonna have ourselves a little hostage situation. Long as that dumbass Sheriff gets me what I want, we’ll all go on our merry way and never see each other again.” He flicked his eyes upwards. “Now, just sit there and shut up.”

It was a tense few minutes of silence before the man finally started talking again. You wish he would utter his name so you didn’t have to keep referring to him as the man. It was getting kind of old.

“Yes, Deputy Ferguson, you can help me. See, I just robbed the City of Durant bank. I’d like for you to tell your boss that I’ve got two hostages down at the Indian bar by the Reservation and if my demands ain’t met, well, someone’s gonna get shot.” He shot the screen of the jukebox, just above your head, and you screamed. Glass and sparks showered over the top of you, Henry putting himself between you and the falling debris.

“Are you alright?” He whispered. “Were you cut anywhere?” You gulped down a lump of fear before you could respond.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You somehow found yourself able to let out a low chuckle. “I guess I should’ve let you finish cleaning.” Henry wrapped an arm around your back and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before pulling you closer to him. He pressed you right against his side. Despite the situation, you could almost feel the blush spread across your face. Henry’s eyes never left the man behind the bar, even as the lights from Walt’s bronco came through the windows, you could hear his siren blaring.

“Walt will get him. If he can not, then I will.”

Tag list: (Want to be added? Just ask!)

@stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @marennnx

[so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed]

20 questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by the ever wonderful @londonfoginacup and @reminiscingintherain thank you so much!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

94, though I think one is a collab and one is a translation. But 90+

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

I am gonna do some math here and take off the translation because that adds 220k to my wordcount and that doesn't feel fair, lol. So that leaves 1.243.681 words. Minus about 12k that I didn't write lol, that's still a lot.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently just 1D but I am talking about writing a Lestappen fic so I might branch out!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

a game that I'm destined to lose [1449 kudos, but it's from 2012] midnight doesn't last forever [1190 kudos, but it's from 2013] you've set my soul to dreaming [1162 kudos] room for your love underneath this tree [1151 kudos] some things fade (some never do) [1047 kudos]

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Um. Theoretically yes. Realistically, I haven't caught up since March and the number in my inbox is too high to look at.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I usually write HEA but I guess the one that I remember with more of an ambiguous ending is and there's no one to blame except then Sus made me write a follow up so I guess it has a happy ending now.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them? I mean, I put the characters through some serious angst, but after that, they all get their very deserved happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I know of. If I do, it's not in my face.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Occasionally. I write either quirky smut, or I write stuff for wankersday, because the only smut I write is stuff that doesn't involve other people directly apparently.

10. Do you write crossovers? What the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really, but I have a HP AU I should write at one point.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep! Someone tried to sell TNFIF online on Amazon. With a really ugly cover. Thankfully writing Tumblr came together and sent in so many bad reviews that the seller took it down.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a few!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've done a round robin a few years ago, which wasn't really my style. I've started writing an advent fic with @evilovesyou but we never got around to finishing it. I will hopefully write a fic with @chaotic-bells soon!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

For as much Larry as I write, my first true love was Ziam.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I am stubborn enough to believe I will finish all my WIPs. Eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Emotions, I think. I've made people cry, so that's nice!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Mostly I think I struggle not to make everything too in depth. A 5k fic probably doesn't need 3k of worldbuilding.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've come across it a lot in Lestappen fics and I don't mind it as long as the translation is right behind it, and as long as it's not google translated stuff (or as long as it's google translated stuff in a language I don't know).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Possibly Gilmore Girls. I've written for a ton of fandoms, though I've been a 1D only writer since 2012.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

That's like asking me to choose between my non existent children. If I have a favourite, I can't say it out loud. (But it's this one, for all it brought me)

I'm not sure who hasn't been tagged at this point, so I am gonna tag @jacaranda-bloom and @beardyboyzx and anyone in the @1dcreatorclubhouse who wants to do it!

[cultivating-wildflowers]

Books of 2023 - December (and a wrap-up)

And that's a wrap!

Extremely happy with my reading in general this year. I got to all but one of the books I absolutely wanted to get to in 2023 (and was only disappointed by a few of those); I revisited some old favorites; and I found plenty of unexpectedly delightful stories.

December was definitely a wrap-up month terms of finishing both my 2023 TBR (so. close.) and my impulse goal of reading a new-to-me book with a title for each letter of the alphabet. (That X, man.... That was difficult. I think I'll do it again next year.) There are about 30 titles left on my reading tracker, mostly stuff I threw on there to fall back on if I needed a change, or audiobooks I had on standby for boring days at work.

Audiobooks saved me this year.

And with that: my reviews, and then a little wrap-up and a summary of my plans for next year.

Total books: 5  |  New reads: 5   |  2023 TBR completed: 2 (0 DNF) / 24/25 total   |   2023 Reading Goal: 90/50

November | January 2024

#1 - Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin (tr. Babette Deutsch) - 4/5 stars

It's so much more difficult to write reviews about 200-year-old classics than modern spec-fic. This book made me laugh, which is a solid point in its favor. I also survived my foray into novels-in-verse, which is another point.

As you were.

#2 - The Death of Ivan Ilych by Leo Tolstoy (tr. Aylmer Maude) - 5/5 stars ('23 TBR)

Next on my list of "one of those Russian guys", this time the book that Ruby read for school that made her cry.

And...woof. Yeah, I definitely cried. Not an easy story to read, but I am glad I read it.

#3 - Paradise Lost by John Milton - 4/5 stars ('23 TBR)

Well. I read it. Goodness knows why, but just managing that was a struggle.

The descriptions were vivid, and once I'd adjusted to the style it was engaging. It's definitely not something I'm used to, though, so it was an exceedingly slow read. That said, I do think it was a perfect book to finish right before Christmas. It felt right.

#4 - Fullmetal Alchemist, vol. 1-3 by Hiromu Arakawa - 5/5 stars

Finally! Finally I have picked up this series! And I'm very glad I did. Needed something a little lighter after everything I've been reading lately.

As expected, it was delightful.

I chose to track reading with this series by the three-in-one omnibus volumes, given the relatively low page count per volume. I own the first three volumes as singles and just picked up a copy of four-through-six; the rest will have to come from the library, which will take some finagling.

#5 - The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis - 5/5 stars

Read this in one sitting to get to a round number of finished reads for 2023 and.... Wow. No thoughts. Lots of sticky tabs used. Just gonna...sit here for a bit.

Anyway.

2023 Reading Wrap-Up!

My goals for reading in 2023 included:

Read plenty of nonfiction: ok so I finished nine nonfic books, which narrowly beat out 2022's seven, but.... Yeah. We're gonna try this again next year. (I have at least two dozen on my reading tracker. I am nothing if not optimistic.)

Finish the Lord Peter Wimsey series: done and wowwwww

Get back into Discworld: I read the three Industrial Revolution books. So...not as much as I'd hoped to read but they were fun as ever! I plan to dive into the Witches subseries in 2024 and go from there.

Branch out into a few new genres: I generally didn't do so well with this one; gothic of any kind isn't for me. I will say I'm officially over general YA fantasy; I found a couple of MG books I enjoyed and will gladly recommend to the kids in my life.

General Stats:

Total Books read: 90 (84 last year)

Re-reads: 30 (including: all of the City Between series [10] in January; all but one of both Narnia [6] and the Fairyland Chronicles [4]; and all of Murderbot [6])

New Authors: 31 (24 last year)

Audiobooks: 62 (45 last year)

Nonfiction: 9 (7 last year)

DNF: 14 (19 last year)

Alphabet Book Titles: 26 out of 26!

2023 TBR:

Read: 19

DNF: 5

Didn’t Get To: 1 (currently reading this one)

My Top Five Anticipated 2023 Reads:

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer - 4/5 stars

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky - 4/5 stars

Gaudy Night by Dorothy L. Sayers - 5/5 stars

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier - DNF @ 35%

Sea of Tranquility by Emily St John Mandel - 3/5 stars

Top Five New Reads of 2023:

84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman

Gaudy Night by Dorothy L. Sayers

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

Why Didn't They Ask Evans? by Agatha Christie

2024 Reading Plans:

Reading Goal: 100 books. Why not be obnoxious for once and actually set an unrealistic goal? (For the record, I had almost 100 books on my "potential 2024 reading list" back in September; I did my best to winnow it down but, with some carry-over from this year, it's currently at 88 books. Of those, 36 are hard-and-fast "to read in 2024" books.)

Get to some of the older residents of my TBR. There are some books that have been on my formal TBR for nearly a decade. I'm not even sure where a lot of them came from, but it's time to see if they're any good.

More nonfiction! Guys, I'm learning things! I feel like such an accomplished adult! Topics on the list for 2024 include cadavers, history and travel, murder, mythology, fungi, WWII hijinks, and pirates.

Another, less impromptu Alphabet of Book Titles challenge? In addition to the expected Q, X, Y, and Z, this year I struggled with R, F, and K for some reason? (I DNF'd three or four R titles and disliked the one I did finish.) I already have both a Q and a Z title sitting on my physical bookshelf at home and have a Y option picked out. X is still tripping me up (if I wasn't set on new titles I'd reread Xenocide). Since I'm that close already and I pulled it off in 2023, I'm tentatively going to try again.

Top Five Anticipated Reads of 2024

Agent Garbo: The Brilliant, Eccentric Secret Agent Who Tricked Hitler and Saved D-Day by Stephan Talty

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach

A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 58

Matt Mercer, destroyed before he can begin ...

Oh gods ... not more terrible French Sam ... look at Marisha, she's already losing it completely ... and now there's a ghost? WTF? Wow ... so good and SOOOOOO BAD both at the same time ...

Yes. Give them ALL a raise!

New game! New system! CANDELA OBSCURA!!! Ooooooooooooh ... yes, gimme gimme gimme! Especially with added Robbie!

Yes. Everything that follows will be CHETNEY'S fault ...

Aaaaaaaaaaah! Roll initiative! Already! Aaargh!

Battlemap's already nightmare fuel, not good ...

Travis: "if everybody rolls zbove a ten we'll win!" Sam (to Ashley): "So what'd you roll?" Ashley: "Six." Oof ...

This thing screams and INSTANT psychic damage? Ooooooh fuck ...

Go off FRIDA!!! Badass round!

"Eyeless teeth and mouths swirling in space"? Dear gods, Matthew ...

Blood Curse of Bloated Agony! Sweeeeeeeeet ... and TURMOIL!!! Yes! And WOW nice damage ...

Legendary Action? Shit ... CHEW?!!! Oh fuck ... OUCH!!! DOUBLE FUCK!!!

No Sympathetic Bond for Fearne? Ashley (angfily amused): "What the fuck?!"

Angry butts ... hmmm ... and "moist", "glistening" ... gods, please SOMEBODY STOP THEM BOTH!!!

Matt: "Big risks, Big rewards, big ... fuckery if you fail!"

"PUSH THROUGH THE SLAW!!!" Oh my fucking gods ...

Roll a 22 or tank ... Laura: "Well I got ONE of the numbers!" Yeah ... she rolled a TWO ... "No! I don't do yhat!" I DO NOT blame her for wanting to retcon THAT mess ...

Lightning damage! YES!!! Tumble down the stairs! NOOOOOO!!!

Another Chew? 21 points of piercing damage on FCG? Ouch!

No! Not Fearne too! Aaaaaaah! And now she's GRAPPLED too!

Shit. The place is now ON FIRE!!!

Aabria: "How many of its BUTTS fell off?" Matt: "It is now minus 4 butts."

CONSUME?!!! I'm sorry, CONSUME?!!! Fuck that's a lot if rolling ... NOOOOOOO!!! Fearne is DOWN!!! And she has just been fucking EATEN!!!

A DEATH SAVE?!!! Already? 9? FUCK!!! 1 fail already?

Save her! Yes! Do it! YEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!

Spare the Dying! Yes! Do it! Thank fuck ...

FRIDA!!! Badass protector!

Chetney renders Fearne invisible with his "sexy claws". XD

Travis: "You son of a birch, you BAITED ME!!!"

FCG's new and improved bolt thrower ... is INEFFECTUAL. Balls ...

Spiritual Weapon towel whip attack ... NAT1?!!! Fuck me ...

The Thing is POOPING ITSELF down the stairs towards Imogen. Dear fucking gods ...

Laura: "WHAT AM I GONNA DO?!!! WHERE AM I GONNA GO!!!" Matt: "That's a good question." Ooh, you evil bugger ...

Giant Pacman maw ... no teeth? Just a gummy rend ... BLACK BILE?!!! What?

Oh fuck, roll good, Ashley! Oh no, what is that face, Ashley? 9? No ... and Fearne's gone again! FUCK!!! One failed death save AGAIN!!!

Channel Divinity? Ooooh ... YES!!! Half her HP back! Fearne's back up! Thank fuck ... Nice one, Deanna!

Spiritual Weapon ... Deanna conjures a mystical DivaCup! Which doesn't do ANYTHING!!!

Fearne (now awake): "I can't see my hands ... I CAN'T SEE MY HANDS!!!" Chetney werewolf: "You're invisible." Fearne: "Oh."

Rot! ROT AWAY, YOU FUCKER!!! Nice one, Fearne.

Aabria: "I don't like short-form improv. Get the fuck out of here."

Chewing on FRIDA!!! NOOOO!!! AAAAAAHHH!!!

Shit! The fire is now becoming A PROBLEM!!!

Flaming crossbow bolt! Yesssssss, FRIDA! A miss? Balls ... second hits, though! Phew ... plus Sharpshooter! Cool ... 21 points altogether thanks to the fire! And it DOESN'T LIKE the fire! Good! Use that!

Matt: "You might take some fire damage if you stay there." Christian: "I always take fire damage when I'm next to Faithful Care Giver!" Cue appreciative yelps! XD

Travis (singing): "REEEEEEEEEAAAD the meat!" Oh dear gods ... and then "treetrunk of skin" ... this is getting so nasty ...

Another Chew on FCG ... aaargh ... 25 points of piercing damage! Sam: "I'm okay!"

Aabria: "BAD butthole!" Laura: "It's horrible in here!" Snort ... Evolution for the WIN!!! XD

Telekinetic Pull ... she's gonna try to PULL IT DOWN into the room WITH HER?!!! Seriously, Imogen?

Fuck, and now it is COMING FOR HER!!! Bite and Constrict! Shit! 29 fucking points of damage! Jeebus!

A SECOND Death Ward on Chetney! Man, Deanna is REALLY upset right now!

The Divine DivaCup finally comes good ... and it's SO BAD ... LOL ...

Aabria: "GOD WHAT A BIT!!! I'm so punished for this fucking bit!"

Fuck ... now IMOGEN's being eaten? FUCK!!! And NOBODY'S SEEN IT either! NOOOOOOO!!!

Fearne goes running, as she should ... Burning Hands! Oh fuck yes! She has a level of Rogue! Bonus action Dash! DO IT ASHLEY!!! YEEEEEEESSSSSS!!! Wait ... it's SECOND LEVEL?!!! FUCK!!!

Still, Burning Hands works ... Ashley gets the HDYWTDT!!! YES!!! She cuts this bitch RIGHT OPEN to carve Imogen out and now it's just a ruined peel ... Nice.

FRIDA's Guiding Bolt lights up the thingy ... but doesn't manage to activate it. FCG follows through ... IT'S OPEN!!! YES!!!

Ooooh, loot! An old satchel ...

Panic makes for poor investigation ... stop getting burned while you insist on continuing to dig!

Oh, this place is FUCKED. Best get out NOW.

Travis: "I stand and take the flames in the name of love!" Matt: "Do you?" Travis: "No." XD

FRIDA's staying? Seriously? And Chetney too ... the ceiling is now cracking? No, it's ... fuck, NEW CREATURE coming out of the old? Fuck ... RUUUUUUUUUNNNNN!!!

Wow ... some kind of twisted monster dryad thing ... yuck! Sick shit ... FUCK THAT THING IS HUGE!!!

Oh nice, Imogen's telekinesis FTW!!! YEEEEESSS!!!

Getting out of the tower now ... nighttime ... hmmmm ...

Yeet that sucker, Imogen! With a Bless from Deanna ... 31! Oh yes! Proper CHUCKED!!! Right into the fire! Nice ...

Everybody's out now ... and the burning tower is providing light for them. Where's the Wolfking?

Pass Without A Trace at THIRD level now ... just in time, looks like.

Stoneshape to BLOCK THE DOOR!!! Sweet save, FCG!

Mass Cure Wounds! Nice, Deanna!

Group Stealth Check! Nobody better fudge ...

Shit ... bad roll = big tumble for FRIDA ... and now they've been detected again! Here comes the Wolfking!

Just RUN, guys!

Like foglamps in mist ... lovely! Not a mistake at all ...

Over the wall ... wow, that was a MESS. Shit ... oh fuck, here it comes!

So did they make it, or ...

Into the THICK TANGLE of the Savalirwood. Hmmmmmm ...

Imogen's guiding them ... Nat20! Yes! Thank fuck ...

Everybody takes SIX POINTS OF PIERCING DAMAGE just from pushing through the foliage! Fucking hell ...

They've lost the Wolfking ... thank fuck ... Matt: "And that's where we're gonna take a break!"

Holy fuck, that unused Wolfking mini is INSANE!!!

Back to the game ... and an adrenaline DUMP now ... everybody's crashing.

Apparently, 26 is "pretty solid".

Hiding place ... yes. That's what they need right now.

Oh yeah, the satchel ...

Chetney: "We produce heat, y'know." Deanna: "Oh, I don't wanna be horny right now, I'm so tired!"

The satchel IS A BOOBY-TRAP!!! Fuck, that's a lot of damage to FCG ... Travis: "Say it ..." Sam: "I'm okay!"

EMPTY?!!! SERIOUSLY?!!!

Laura: "Ask for Ludinus' notes." Wait ... FUCK!!! It's a Bag of Holding!

Turn it upside down and SHAKE IT!!! Yes ... empty that bitch out!

Lots if papers ... and they're blank. Chetney: "Of course they are ... we need lemons!"

Turn the paper into a human? Is that REALLY a plan you're considering? Matt: "What am I? Kill me! I shouldn't exist!" XD

Smooth wooden rod ... ensuing giggles ... Matt: "It's NOT A DILDO!!!"

Armour ... hmmm ... Matt trying SO HARD to not accidentally describe a strap-on ... and he's failing. Matt: "Laura Bailey, fuck you!" LOL

Deanna can indeed read this ... yes. Here we go ... AND MATT HAS NOTES FOR HER!!! Nice ...

Staff of Dark Odyssey? Hmmmmmm ... wait ... they now have TELEPORT?!!! Oh snap!

Major note-based infodump ... the harness has a purpose here! Hmmmm ... magical infusion ... Fey entities throughout Wildemount ... "Feeding the Route"?

So Ludinus has basically been turning powerful entities into energy to make himself stronger. Fuck. Evil bastard gets even more evil.

History check ... 12 ... Aabria: "I've never read a book. I'm actually OLDER than books." XD

Next batch of notes ... Ruidus stuff! Laura: "Oh shit!"

Sam's flask ... "Where's Vax'ildo?" Oh dear gods ... Sam, WHY?!!!

Oh yeah, Ludinus got up to some SCARY summoning shenanigans ...

Any way to make notes ... ensuing printer humour ... oh, I know this horror all too well ...

Third batch ... a "crystal well"? Hmmmmmm ...

Imogen: "He didn't even know what he was waking up, he just had a hunch." Yup ... pure narcissism ...

Yes. Take the notes back to Uthodurn. Use the staff?

Chetney suggesting either Rexxentrum or Vasselheim ... hmmm ... might work.

Beau and Caleb mentions ... Imogen: "She had abs for days!" XD

Bayestra? What? Hmmmmmmm ...

FCG's right, they KNOW Uthodurn. Might be best ...

Oh, Fearne meant Ivaadel ... I'm blanking ...

Timeshares ... Chetney: "Oh yeah, Menagerie Coast's full of 'em." XD

The Arch Heart ... Emerald Cross? Hmmm ...

Imogen has a good point, they need to GET THE OTHERS BACK FIRST before they do anything else. Go back to Uthodurn and then to Jrusar!

Archmage of Domestic Protection? Ashley's notes are a wild ride ...

FRIDA makes a good point, they're currently A MESS. Best rest first before going ANYWHERE.

Oh, here we go, jumping into a dream odyssey again. Hmmmm ...

Christian had something MADE?!!! Aaawwwwwwww ... what? So cuuuuuuuuuute ... Sam snd Christian, matching hoodies! :3

The lighting change! THE LIGHTING CHANGE!!! AAAAAAHHH!!!

Sweet, soothing memory lane ... FRIDA's past is warm and friendly ... Laerryn? Oh, here we go ...

Still nothing concrete ... glimpses of war ... going deeper ... Nat20! Nice, Laura!

Oh ... oh, this doesn't look good ... what are they DOING?!!! This is some hairy shit ...

10 ... Laura: "That's a scary roll!"

Ah, so this is a defensive action? Hmmmm ... pushing back to see what they're defending ... a contraption of great immensity ... hmmmm ... "Protect the Factorum!"

Oh shit ...

The Factorum Malleus ... ah yes ... of course ...

Fuck ... so D REPAIRED FRIDA as well as resuscitating them ...

FRIDA: "I don't feel better, I feel ... ominous. It feels OMINOUS."

Chetney made FRIDA a little wooden ACTION FIGURE!!! :3

FRIDA starts crying oily tears ... and Fearne just HAS TO try and TASTE that stuff! XD

Need to find more friends ... and need to find THEIR FRIENDS ... yeah ...

Chetney cheering distraught Deanna up in the cutest way ... :3 And he made HER a sweet little shell carving too. Awwwwwwwww ... and YAY!!! HUGS!!!

Oh shit ... is Deanna REALLY considering trying out crazy werewolf sex?

Oh lawd it's actually happening ... and it's filthy kinky ... and Fearne gives her blessing! LOL Wait ... Fearne is actually TAKING PART?!!! Dear gods ...

Lots of crazy noises in the night ... hmmm ... (snort) XD

Oh, the morning after discussion is something else ... XD I agree, this episode suddenly got so horny ...

So ... off to Jrusar? Okay ... or Whitestone ... hmmm ... decisions decisions ... wait, ZEPHRAH?!!! Really?

Ask the Changebringer? Okay ... oh yes, best to be PRECISE about this shit ...

Ooooh ... oh, this is different ... oh, a much more PROPER contact this time ... he's actually getting a genuine COMMUNION with her this time ... Holy shit, a voice on the wind? Awesome ...

FUCK!!! Orym, Laudna and Ashton ARE STILL ALIVE!!! WOW!!!

FCG trying to find out about his future with FRIDA, if it will be long ... WHOA, this just got intense ...

A proper plea for aid from a god ... wow ...

Wait ... what's happening to Deanna? Aaaaaah ... oh ... wait ... OH!!! It's the Dawnfather! Sweet! Okay ... He's pretty intense with it, but ... yeah, she's into it. XD Whoa ... The Red End? Hmmmm ..

Oooh ... the Changebringer coin's all shiny now . Holy shit! MATT GAVE HIM A FUCKING CARD FOR THE COIN!!! AWESOME!!!

Deanna gives Chetney her Ring of Temporal Protection. Sweet!

Imogen accepts Fearne's offer of the fancy staff. And the other one's a Plane Shifter? Intriguing ... oh, and Chetney gets the Bag of Holding.

Wait a fucking minute ... did CHETNEY make that MURDER FURNITURE from the first episode?

THAT'S what RTA stands for? Seriously?

Okay, so ... Imogen tries the teleportation staff ... oh boy ...

Go find Zhudanna? Yes. Good choice. Or Spire By Fire? Hmmmmm ...

Wait, it does her PSYCHIC DAMAGE when she uses it? Fuck ... and here ... we ... GO!!!

Matt: "And we'll pick up there next week!" Shit ...

Sam is rolling a D100 with Matt and we CAN'T KNOW what the result is? You bastards ...

[fat-hedonistic-hogs]

How about another girl joining the fatrooms? Like Bulma or Towa?

"Alright Bulma.. You've got this! If this invention works you'll revolutionize energy production for everyone on earth! 1...2...3!" Bulma yelled closing her eyes as she flipped the on switch of her latest invention. It was a miraculous new creation designed from remnants of various evil scientist's works. Given the sheer number of them the z fighters had faces she decided to combine their surprisingly advanced technology in order to create a device that theoretically could produce infinite energy!

A blinding flash of light enveloped the laboratory and Bulma felt her skin tingle as she was bathed in cosmic rays. This wasn't part of the plan! She panicked yanking the switch down causing it to break off. The entire world shook for just a moment as space bent and reality cracked... and just like that she was gone leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the floor.

"Son of a... Now we're gonna have to waste a wish bringing me back to li- Wait isn't other world... where the hfil am I?" She asked rubbing her eyes which were still a bit dazed after the flash. "Well infinite energy is off the table but teleportation isn't anything to sneeze at! Now how the heck do I get out of here?" Bulma asked herself her own voice echoing as she got a good look at her surroundings. She was in some sort of abandoned mall, or atleast that's what she thought it was. The place was huge and rather run down but the power was still on even if the lights above her head flickered every few seconds. "Guess I better make my way to an exit.

She sighed hoping she didn't go too far from west city, she didn't have a phone on her but she'd be able to contact Vegeta once she got somewhere with one. "Man just how big is this place?" She groaned as she walked passed empty stores devoid of any kind of life. Clothes, creepy children's toys and electronics were scattered on the floor making the entire scene seem unnerving. "Its all in my head... just nerves from the shock that's all, it's just a creepy abandoned mall nothing more." Bulma said picking up the pace passing infront of clothing store full of faceless mannequins.

The clocks were no help trying to pin point the time. The ones not broken or smashed on the floor were left spinning wildly round and around. She had no sense of time either since the place seemed to have no windows just more and more stores and escalators going up to higher floors surely shed be at the exit soon enough. The place wasn't endless...

"Ugh I feel like I've been walking for HOURS! My stomachs starting to kill me..." Bulma groaned her gut growling with hunger. Thankfully salvation was close at hand. There was a food court and not just any food court one that had mysterious tables all stocked with freshly made burgers still warm and steaming as they sat on napkins and plastic plates. "What the? Who the heck leaves food out in an abandoned mall? And it looks like these were just made..." Bulma said a bit confused as she carefully picked up a burger and examined it. It looked normal enough and smelt real and not rotten. Her hunger only seemed to intensify as the greasy smell of the sandwiches filled her nostrils. "Kami forgive me for being so stupid but I feel like I'll eat my own leg if I don't grab a bite soon." She groaned shoveling the burger into her mouth smearing her face with ketchup and grease as she tore into it like a hungry animal. The petite scientist wasn't a heavy eater but she managed to clean the plate in no time flat finishing with a loud "BWOOOOOOOOORP!" That rattled some bear by glass. "Man that was delicious! Just what I needed now back to looking for a way out of this creepy place." Bulma said before turning her attention to a large jumbo sized soda and basket of chili fries. ".... okay maybe a snack to go." She said blushing as she swiped the basket and drink before going back on her path. Each step she took was met with a gulp of her drink or a handful of messy fries being shoveled into her mouth. She didn't bother to grab napkins so she simply wiped and cleaned her mouth with her arm for now slowly adding more and more stains to her futuristic looking jumpsuit. The routine of eating and walking helped get her mind off the creepy atmosphere of the seemingly colossal sized mega mall with Bulma oblivious to her own softening features. Food was all she had and she didn't even question why her fries never seemed to end or how each sip of her drink always gave her a sweet sugar mouthful of soda despite being chugged at for over an hour straight.

"Oh another food court!" She said perking up as spotted a rundown looking stand in the shape of a burger. Waddling over Bulma ignored the groaning of the stool beneath her rear of the sound of threads tearing as she began to out grow her jumpsuit. She grabbed armfuls of hotdogs, pizza, burgers and more piling them up on a singular table and helping herself. "It's been a few hours I think... Someone will... BLRRROOOOORT! Huff... come for me soon. Just gotta hunker down and wait for help. Beats walking all day." She groaned cheeks wobbling as she suckled down a mustard covered hotdog and let lose a few rancid bursts of gas. Her plan had changed from finding a way out to waiting for rescue. She didn't need to worry about escape! She had everything she needed right infront of her.

Fat sausage fingers shoveled food towards a pair of ketchup stained lips while a exposed pair of breasts caught falling food and leftovers like a massive pig trough. A table stacked high with food sat in the center of the food court with Bulma at its base stuffing and gorging herself more and more. Legs became tree trunk sized and her ass had long sense swallowed the stool she once sat on. Manners and shame forgotten as she shoved her head face first into a plate of nachos lapping up cheese and crunchy chips with her tongue.

Her once beautiful complexion ruined by grease and food clogging her pores. Her hair greasy and long rolling down her back after ages of being uncut or washed. Even her nose changed flattening and becoming a snout from the countless hours of being pressed against plates and dishes. She was like a gargantuan hog only capable of seeing the mountain of food infront of her and not caring about anything else. She ate and ate till she couldn't even move her bingo wing covered arms any more. She was a glutton a bottomless garbage disposal for junk food and slop.

The food never stopping and her stomach never filling, the once brilliant scientist reduced to a eating machine driven only by the never ending need to stuff herself... help wouldn't come but even if it did... would she care?