#I decide that I must tell people how hard it is to make the ore and finally visit that main museum on a trip back to Shimane

[demonslayedher]

I finished posting the unabashedly educational Sword Fic.

It includes a detailed (but hopefully beginner-friendly) explanation of all the steps of making a Nichirin blade from a sunny mountain like Mt. Youkou, a touch of swordsmith and metalworker folk lore (including demons), meta about what must make Kimetsu no Yaiba's swordsmithing methods different from real life methods, some character exploration for Haganezuka and his polishing method, vocabulary and additional resources in the chapter notes, and hopefully, an endearing, silly POV character to learn this all through.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap, GoodTimesWithScar, 6/26/24

((Geez louise, ten thousand words on this bad boy, it took literally a full day and evening. Worth it though, because this one is jam packed! So many meetings with friends, so many wild mob encounters, so much death! I ended up needing to do detailed recap on all but the last half hour, which was Disney talk that can be watched on the VOD for anyone who would like to.))

9:15 Scar starts his stream in studio view, imploring his audio to “please work” after the madness of last stream. Audio is fine today. Scar is relieved. He greets Chat and shows off the ConCorp shirt he found in his closet. Today’s plan is to hunt mobs and look at spoilers. Scar didn’t finish the video he was hoping to, but he’s going to show off what he’s done, and he’s going to get a Magic Hands Man for the villain car! He thanks subs and donos. Chat asks how he’s doing, he is okay and they’re all going to have some fun today! There are a lot of subs and donos coming in today.

12:30 Some voice donos come in wishing Scar luck on the surgery and commenting on how funny the echo stream was. ((In Scar’s 6/23 stream an audio issue that ran almost 40 minutes caused endless audio looping and much hilarity and distress for Scar.)) Scar laughs and admits he thought about cutting that portion out of the VOD but decided to leave it in because it was funny. Chat agrees that was a great decision. Scar says that the VOD channel has been doing really well for hits lately, people must like it! A lot of chatters use Scar as comfortable background atmosphere and he is very cool with that.

16:03 Chat notices that the broken headset is still conspicuously unburied and unsent to a nice farm. Scar shows off the brand new duct tape job he has done, conveniently ignoring his promise last stream to get new headphones. The headphone is visibly sliding down the side of Scar’s head. Scar switches to game view, where he is standing on top of Ore Mountain with an amazing view of the Magic Mountain dig site. He tells chat that someone is trying to frame him as the Ore Snatcher! Not for the first time, either! This is especially egregious considering that Scar is the chief investigator. Scar shows Chat the landscaping he has been working on, an artificial extension to the river with an engineered shoreline, then tells them to ignore it because it is not finished yet.

18:00 Scar shows chat his rocket shulker, which he left in front of the train last night. Sometime last night between the time Scar signed off around 11:30pm and the time he came back, the Ore Snatcher struck! Scar opens the shulker and reveals five deepslate diamond ore blocks, each one named “Doc’s Diamond Ore.” Scar thought there were only four ore missing, but Chat corrects him to six. Scar is a bit embarrassed to realize the chief investigator did not know that. He makes a notation in the Scroll of Scrolls. He also notes that whoever the Ore Snatcher is, they probably smell bad.

19:40 A voice dono message comes through and Scar misses it. He admits to Chat that while he wants to hang onto his headphones as long as possible, the left side doesn’t actually, you know, _work_ anymore, and that makes some things very hard to hear. A chatter sends Scar a tip to watch the clip in his Discord channel. Joe and Cub are super sus. Scar agrees that all this finger-pointing is indeed super-sus. His lead mod signs on and Scar opens the rocket box again to show off the framing evidence. It is sus to name the diamond ore as well, very sus.

21:25 Scar is briefly distracted quizzing chat on the name of his rocket box, which is “272,300 – RP-1.” Chat is mostly baffled, guesses maybe coordinates, but one clever chatter correctly guesses that it is the amount of RP1 rocket fuel needed for the Falcon 9. Chat is impressed by the deep dive, if nothing else. He shows off his other box, which is “810,700 – RP-1,” which is the amount needed for the Saturn rocket. Chat agrees that Scar is a nerd.

22:35 Time for work! Scar tries to remember what work he wanted to do today. He remembers, magic hands man acquisition! He explains that there is an empty village behind Bdubs’ base with a single nitwit safely buried underground. This is just enough village to trigger a raid. But once a raid is triggered and the evoker is acquired, how to get it back? Scar’s theory is that if he puts a magic hands man in the back of his boat and rows real fast, maybe it won’t be able to kill him. Chat agrees that rowing fast might be the only answer. Scar shows how the waterway goes all the way from the village to the train, so it would be perfect if he could avoid death. A ravager could also go in a boat, so he has the same question there. Chat doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but they really want to watch Scar try.

25:00 Scar says that he and Tango have fixed Minecraft. It is not right, he claims, that one cannot ride a ravager. The solution is to make rotten flesh useful by feeding it to ravagers in exchange for temporary riding privileges. Chat says sorry, Minecraft does not allow fun. Scar sighs agreement for that one. He promises once again that he will get lava for Frank, the sad cold strider. He shows off the Vindicator he has already secured in a boat, then gets ready for his adventure. He brings a lot of totems, mentioning that Hermitcraft operates by the laws of the high seas, which means that if somebody builds a farm in the ocean, it is okay to steal from it. Which he did. A voice chat about Genie+ puts Scar into Disney rant mode, but a second voice chat telling him that it’s Stitch Day distracts him and a third about Star Wars gets him ranting in a whole new direction. He shoots the bannerman he’s been keeping boated up and heads for the village.

30:30 Scar has decided to consider Star Wars TV shows as the McDonalds food of the franchise, good enough but not really filling or as good as you thought about it in your head. He’s also unhappy about how much more they are spending on The Acolyte than on House of Dragon for less result. Scar is loving House of Dragons though. He arrives at the village, starting an immediate raid, and begins wiping out pillagers. The problem with this particular village is that there are a lot of places for pillagers to hide. He finds two of the first wave hiding inside a building, and then can’t find the second wave at all. As he searches, he talks about Disney’s propensity for unnecessary sequels.

37:30 The raid is really lost. Chat tells Scar he should’ve brought the bell he stole from Doc on Day One. Scar thinks they might be right, because he clearly needs some help. A chatter makes a large donation and wishes Scar “Happy Stitch Day!” Scar is flustered, touched, grateful and slightly enraged. The raid is still nowhere to be seen, so Scar enables freecam mode and goes exploring. He doesn’t find the raid, but he dips down into the massive and impressive empty space left by Doc’s tunnel bore. Scar is impressed and makes a note to come down and grab some amethysts.

40:00 Scar consults the chat for help. They suggest up on the mountain and ringing the bell. Scar doesn’t have the bell, but he keeps looking. No luck. He needs help! Chat really thinks he should go get the bell (and turn on hitboxes.) Scar eventually goes to get the bell off Magic Mountain. He talks to Chat about his surgery, explaining that it is a less intense surgery than some he’s had before, mostly correcting stuff that was done wrong with his feeding tube back in 2021 and 2022. Hopefully he will not have to go under full anesthetic, which will substantially reduce recovery time but may provide less info to the doctors. In any case, the surgery is tomorrow and hopefully he can go home right afterwards. If things don’t go right and he ends up on a ventilator, that means an ICU trip and a few days of weaning. Right now everything is geared towards avoiding the ventilator option.

44:40 Even with the bell, the raid is not revealing itself. A chatter asks what happened with the first surgery. Scar is just beginning to explain the previous J-tube surgery ((A J-Tube is a type of feeding tube that is implanted directly into the intestine, as opposed to a G-tube which goes into the stomach.)) when someone shoots a flaming arrow at him! It’s Impulse! Scar tells him he needs to work on his VelociTE skills, Impulse claims he didn’t actually want to kill Scar when he was already having raid troubles.

45:10 Scar asks Impulse if he’s seen the clip of Scar’s echoing call for his help. Impulse has indeed seen that clip and enjoyed it very much. He asks if Scar got it fixed and Scar says sort of, but there is some kind of underlying microphone issue as well. Impulse makes some audio recommendations, but Scar’s audio setup is a disaster mess and his new Roadcaster is not fully set up yet, plus his headphones are they way they are. Impulse casually flexes the fact that he has the bigger version of the Roadcaster that Scar has and it shouldn’t be too difficult to set up and troubleshoot together in a couple of hours. Scar asks if Impulse is a big expert on raids; Impulse has faced a few. They start looking for the raiders together.

48:00 Scar and Impulse work through their guilt about using “cheatycam,” deciding their need is dire because they just can’t find this raid. Scar finds a cat and mentions that Tango keeps murdering the cats that spawn in his steam tunnels. Chat is not happy with this news. Scar suggests Tango should start a cat army. Impulse says Tango could be the next server cat lady. They resort to freecam, Scar is very confused by Impulse’s soundbyte of voice-altered Tango saying “That’s cheating!” They both start camming around. Impulse points out that there is something to be said for the patented Grian method of just ignoring the raid, but Scar says he actually needs his magic hands man. Impulse explores this premise further, Scar is actually going to catch and move an evoker? On a livestream? In front of people? Scar finds his skepticism unflattering. Impulse asks if Scar would like to tackle a redstone project live on stream next. Excited, Scar asks if Impulse wants to see his redstone. Impulse hastily demurs and runs away. Lots of raiders to catch, after all!

51:00 Outraged, Scar insists that they go and look at the redstone RIGHT NOW. He thinks Impulse doesn’t believe that he has completed a real live redstone project and there’s only one way to fix it. Scar begins flying back toward the Shopping District. Impulse does not follow. Scar demands his attendance via game chat. He does not specify who should comes to Poe Poe HQ, so Cleo says “Okay.” Impulse, in a stroke of wonderful luck for him, has found the raid. Scar flies back to join him. Chat feels a little bad about leaving Cleo hanging. Scar has a hard time finding Impulse and the raid both now, but Chat leads him to the right spot. There are no evokers in this phase, but they can at least kill the pillagers and move the raid along.

54:10 With the second wave taken care of, it suddenly occurs to Scar tht it might be nice to have a boat or minecart or something. Impulse is nonplussed, he sort of expected Scar to have this stuff since it’s his project and all. Scar digs the appropriate gear out of his ender chest, then suggests that maybe they should just go see his redstone instead. Impulse agrees, then immediately distracts Scar with the weird behavior of the pillager wave that is just spawning in. They fight the next wave. Impulse thinks it is possible to put a ravager in a boat, but he doesn’t know if it will kill the rower. He thinks it sounds like something fun to do the science on. If he wants a ravager and an evoker, though, multiple raids might be required. Impulse agrees with Scar that players should be able to ride ravagers.

57:00 Another pillager wave, still no magic hands man. Scar shoots several pillagers and also Impulse by accident. They complete the wave and another one spawns, this one with the coveted evoker! Fresh Animations make pillagers look very fast! The evoker falls in the water, but Scar is pretty sure pillagers can swim. They can, though how they swim with their arms in villager pose is a mystery. Scar tells Impulse some stories of swim team practices that make the dad in Impulse very alarmed. They decide that Impulse will kill the ravager and Scar will get the evoker. The magic hands man releases the vexes, but Scar knew that would happen. He wore his ConCorp shirt today and everything! Scar flees from the vexes and accidentally drops the boat, but manages to put a totem into his hand and fly off before dying.

1:00:40 Scar returns to earth to find that Impulse has not killed the ravager quite as much as would be desirable, and in fact the ravager has made it all the way to the evoker pond and is killing Impulse. Scar is faced with an angry ravager sitting in the middle of a pile of Impulse bits, some of which have fallen into the water with the evoker. It is not great. Scar has also replaced his offhand totem with a bit of rail somehow. He shoots the vex in the boat and dives in the water to retrieve Impulse’s stuff, and is almost immediately killed. Chat, who has been yelling about the totem for quite awhile now, saw this coming. Scar is upset that he and Impulse are going to mix bits now. Chat has feelings about that phrasing.

1:02:10 Scar jumps back in the water. He is still trying to keep the evoker alive, which makes things more dangerous. He actually does a pretty good job of collecting bits under fire until he sees the evoker treading water. He gets way too caught up in a bit about what a good swimmer the evoker is and begins to drown himself. Catching himself, he gets his first load of items into a barrel on shore, but many important things are still missing, including Scar’s sword. Impulse was apparently carrying 52 ender chests. Scar dies to vexes in the water again.

1:04:00 Scar jumps back in the water. He pops a totem and dies again. Impulse who apparently had not set his spawn, finally makes it back. Scar dies again. Vex can fly underwater. This is really bad news. Impulse and Scar meet up and trade bits. Tango, alerted by Scar’s death loop, arrives to mock them but also to help. Scar and Impulse catch him up on their totally normal and not-dangerous situation. Scar shares his theory that if he can row a boat fast enough with Magic Hands Man in it, he can avoid the vexes and be safe. Tango does not think this will work but he would very much like to see Scar try it. Scar begins sketching out a plan to get the evoker out of the water and onto the thin strip of land separating the pond from the river. Tango digs out a canal to connect the two bodies of water. Scar is sad he did not think of that.

1:08:20 Scar goes into one of the village huts to sulk for a moment and discovers an indoor hot tub. Impulse discovers an outdoor vindicator and dies of it. Tango and Scar watch contemplatively as Impulse runs around, shrieking, pursued by a vindicator and then by another evoker he has found. He asks if they are going to help at any point, but they are busy being entertained by the cartoon antics. Scar encourages Impulse to get back in there for another round. Tango suggests that maybe Scar could at least put the evoker in a boat since it is literally on the edge of the water. Scar, who has his chin on his fist and is looking very much like a guy who is not intending to do anything right now, says the evoker looks too intimidating with his magic hands right now. Impulse dies again. Chat is having an _excellent_ time.

1:09:30 Tango and Scar are having an excellent time and agree this is much better than the original plan. Impulse dies again and suggests that maybe SOMEONE who has an actual WEAPON could HELP A LITTLE. Scar cheers Impulse on. In chat, Cub cheers Impulse on as well. Scar asks what Magic Hands Man’s actual name is. Tango tells him it is the evoker. While Scar is thinking about that, the actual evoker comes up and sics a bunch of vexes on them. Scar and Tango scatter.

1:10:20 Scar puts the evoker in the boat and jumps into it himself, then begins rowing for his absolute life while yelling to the others that he got him! Tango yells for him to go, go go! Scar switches between first person and F5 as he paddles as fast as he can. He almost gets hung up on a piling but squeaks through before getting vexed to death. The evoker is constantly casting behind him and making a sort of rocket-propelled visual effect behind the boat. Impulse and Tango fly alongside, cheering him on. They are all excited that this is working, but Tango wants to know what the exit strategy is here. Scar admits that’s a little more freeform and may involve some painful rail-line building. Chat is super excited to be a part of this amazing science.

1:13:20 Scar successfully parks the boat outside his train and ejects without dying. He did it! Now the Evoker just needs a nametag. It also needs to stop attacking them with vexes and stone teeth. Scar explains the plan to have Magic Hands Man in the villain car. Tango, who spent all of last season killing himself and his friends with hostile mobs, thinks this is a great idea. Scar rustles up a nametag and an anvil from his ender chest, but needs Tango to make the “Magic Hands Man” tag. Scar pops it onto the evoker and the deal is sealed! Tango asks if Scar plans to build the rail up into the car and everything today. Scar admits he couldn’t get his video done anyway, so he has nothing but time today.

1:16:10 Scar pulls out his Roller Coaster Tycoon shulker for rails and carts, then asks Tango and Impulse if they ever played RCT. Neither of them did. He asks them incredulously if they ever even had fun. They agree that no, there was no fun back then. Impulse says he had the best toy as a child, it was an empty can of soda and they kicked it down the street for fun. Scar asks if Impulse grew up in the fifties. They all do their best old crotchety grandfather impressions.

1:17:40 Impulse has to go, but he’s going to raid into Scar. Scar is disappointed that Impulse doesn’t want to see his redstone. Impulse promises he will see it another day. Before Impulse goes, Scar wants to ask one more question. He murders the name “Rotterdam” about ten times while telling Impulse that the TwitchCon there is doing BuildMart IRL. It sounds amazing! Impulse didn’t think Build Mart IRL means people will be getting out of their seats and doing stuff, but Scar is pretty convinced. (While this conversation is going on, Scar is talking to Doc, who has just signed on, in chat. He tells Doc to come to his base.) Impulse is mostly jealous because the MCC Live there has Ace Race and Railroad Rush, all the good games. “But do they have kick the can?” Tango asks. They decide that’s the next big MCC game, definitely, and Tango and Impulse will win every game. Scar says he would be so good at IRL Build Mart because he would grant his team a natural shopping cart advantage. He could also roll over people’s feet and knock them out of the game. He namedrops Tubbo as the first MCCer to be foot-rolled. He wants to go to TwitchCon very much.

1:21:00 Doc arrives and Scar has other things to do! He hurries off while Tango and Impulse head out. Scar shows Doc the diamond ore and explains the whole frame-up. Including the block that the Ore Snatcher left on top of the armor trim shop, this means all the ore is accounted for. Doc talks about what happened during Scar’s last stream while Scar makes notes on the Scroll of Scrolls. Doc believes that Scar is innocent, but wants to know if Scar is eating chips or something. That would be new for Scar. Scar explains the scroll, then tells Doc he thinks that whoever is framing him may not actually be the Ore Snatcher. There could be multiple actors at this point. Impulse raids into the stream. Doc and Scar agrees that this is a bad framing attempt, nobody would believe this.

1:24:40 While Scar is airing his investigation-related grievances, he demands to know how he is supposed to investigate with a warden in the shop! Doc tells him that is fixed already, the alarm is reset. Chat asserts that it is definitely Cub. Scar wants to know if Doc wants to see his redstone, but Doc is on a roll. Doc believes that the Ore Snatcher is done and won’t act again, and if there are no more attacks and no one confesses, the mystery could haunt him for the rest of his life. Doc and Scar decide to go to the trim shop and look at the signs again. As he flies, Scar points out to chat that three people have now refused to look at his redstone. Chat suggests asking Pearl or Bdubs. Chat also mentions that Doc saw Scar’s redstone on his most recent stream and was not exactly a fan. Scar tells Chat that he’s crossed Mumbo and Zed off the suspect list, but if Mumbo did it, it would be really, really funny.

1:27:00 Scar lands at the trim shop, only to find the alarm in full swing and very loud. He lands next to a new shop that is a dragon head and a creeper head and tries to see what’s going on. Doc says someone triggered the alarm again. He thinks for a moment that the warden is not free, but then everything goes dark. The warden is definitely free. Scar raises his concerns about breaking a wallet setting off the alarm and Doc points out that the shop isn’t even open yet. Nobody should be using their wallets there! He goes in to fix the alarm system and Scar takes off with a very pointed message about going to see his redstone that nobody will look at. Scar flies to his countdown clock and flips the switch. The pistons make a lot of noise and absolutely nothing happens. Scar waxes enthusiastic about how awesome his redstone is for a couple of minutes. Chat is confused. Scar thinks for a minute about possible Ore Snatcher culprits. Chat has lots of ideas, but there is still no proof for anything. Scar plays his suspicions close to his chest, but he doesn’t think it’s Grian.

1:31:00 Scar goes back to the shop, even as he tells chat that he really does need a new headset. He said the same thing last stream, but now he has really come to terms with it. Back at the trim shop he sees the sixth ore block and its mocking sign. He and Doc talk more about possible culprits with no evidence or proof. Scar does believe that the ore from his rocket box came from Ore Mountain and somebody just named it. He asks Doc when the shop will be opening, because he actually would like to buy some trims. Doc explodes that the shop would’ve been open two weeks ago if people weren’t TORMENTING him! All this alarm and warden stuff is not good for shop opening. Doc monologues a little bit about his many troubles.

1:34:00 Cleo arrives, greets Doc cheerfully and asks how his broken shop is. Doc asks if Cleo triggered the alarm. Cleo says no, but they could, would Doc like them to right now? Doc says that the alarm is disabled right now; Cleo is disappointed. Ren arrives as well, Doc demands to know what all these Hermits want with him. Cleo confirms that Doc has no safeguards on his shop at all right now. Doc insists that he is going to turn the alarms on before he leaves. Scar feels a little bad for how put-upon Doc is, but it’s also very funny. Cleo critiques Doc’s armor stand work, Ren and Scar critique the fashion choices in his shop. Red and diamond just clashes too badly. Scar compliments Ren’s taxi pants, sort of. Cleo accidentally triggers the machine, which produces a trimmed hat on an armor stand. Cleo is momentarily alarmed, but Doc takes it as an opportunity to show off his machine. The Hermits are impressed! Scar asks if he can give Doc’s machine a bang. Everyone ignores him.

1:36:40 Doc produces an entire example set of armor with the machine. Everyone thinks it is very cool. Doc makes Ren just want to give up and uninstall Minecraft because he can never measure up. Scar compliments Ren’s pants again, and his cool skin, and belatedly his base. He had a great time talking about Star Wars for two hours on stream in Ren’s cockpit! Cleo asks bemusedly whether Ren and Scar ever do anything on their streams. Doc gives up on the conversation and goes to set the alarm as Scar relates an extremely confusing version of his boat-evoker adventures to Ren and Cleo. Ren is temporarily convinced that Scar won a boat race with a vindicator.They eventually figure out what he is talking about and are moderately impressed by his magic-hands-man-wrangling.

1:40:10 Doc comes back and asks everyone to leave the shop, reminding them that it is not open yet. Cleo protests because she really wants to place and break a block to set off the alarm. Scar, who is not paying even a little bit of attention to Doc, fishes around in his ender chest and finds some food to replace what he lost in the evoker chase earlier. He places down his lunchbox and gets some food out of it, then collects it back up. The alarm goes off. Doc moans in agony while Cleo howls with laughter. Scar protests that he just needed some food! Ren suggests that it might be a good idea to get rid of the ender chest in the shop while the alarm is armed. Doc resets the alarm again while the others criticize his alarm system as very bad for business. Doc tells them that the alarm system shouldn’t have to run during opening hours! Scar wonders if there are specific times the shop is open. Ren suggests only when Doc is streaming, Cleo suggests only when the alarm is triggered. Doc chases them out of the shop.

1:42:10 Scar asks again if the shop will ever open. Doc tells him he can’t open the shop because _certain people_ are suing him and he needs to prepare for his lawsuit. Cleo protests that this is not true, they were talking to Joe earlier and he mentioned they’ve done no preparation thus far. Court is tomorrow and apparently Joe and Doc have not talked to one another at all. Doc protests that he tried to talk to Joe yesterday but Joe was drunk because his partner was doing the citizenship test and he was nervous about it. Chat loves this information. Cleo starts laughing and announces that yeah, she ((Joe’s fiancee, BadgerSpanner)) passed and will be in the US in three weeks. Doc says that’s great, but that being too drunk to talk with a client is behavior unbecoming of a lawyer. His only strategy now is to plead the fifth and then let Joe ramble and run Powerpoint presentations until everyone is bored to death and presumably surrenders. Doc turns his attention to Ren and insists that Ren is also at fault because he was summoned via Discord as a witness and didn’t respond. Cleo protests that they did discuss this and Ren doesn’t need to appear if he doesn’t want to.

1:43:40 Ren says he didn’t get a summons, but he was actually hoping to be a witness. Doc says he can be, so long as he speaks in Doc’s favor. Cleo points out that Ren’s testimony is irrelevant to Doc’s stated strategy. Doc counters that because he and Ren are husband and wife, he’s going to use the fact that Ren can’t testify against him. Cleo refuses to believe they are husbands (Chat is a little hung up on the “and wife” part) because there is no documentation signed by Judge Bdubs available. Scar is completely lost and has no idea what is happening. Someone is drunk, someone is becoming a citizen and someone is married, but he can’t figure out who. Ren wants to know if, as Doc’s husband, he can score a front row seat in the courtroom with the lawyers. Cleo and Doc don’t think it works that way, but Scar shakes off his confusion to insist that as the Poe Poe, he can get Ren a prime seat for only ten diamonds.

1:44:40 Doc sighs over how corrupt the judicial system around here has become while Cleo points out that Scar isn’t even going to be there tomorrow. Scar admits he does have an important prior engagement. Doc rants that Hermit society is in a downward spiral, where respectable merchants need to install burglar alarms. Scar turns to look at his own shop, which is of course a massive patch of ground being exploded by a giant smiley face at the moment, and agrees that this is a bad neighborhood. Cleo points out that it’s not all merchants who need burglar alarms, only Doc. Doc points out that maybe when the Ore Snatcher is done snatching ores, he might just start snatching cats from certain cafes. Cleo says that’s fine, and Scar asks Doc if he’s admitting to being the Ore Snatcher. Ren says that the Beacon shop is on the good side of town, where all the Starbucks are.

1:45:20 Scar remembers that there was another suspect that he wanted to discuss with Doc. Doc immediately suggests False, just because she’s flying under everyone’s radar right now. Doc knows what they’ve been discussing; he’s seen transcripts of their whole stream. ((Doc asked on Twitter for a detailed analysis of Cleo’s 6/23 stream, which was helpfully provided by the recapper.)) Cleo has seen those too and thinks it’s weird. ((The recapper resists the urge to hide under the bed forever.)) Scar and Ren tell Doc that they think the culprit is Karin, Doc’s partner. Doc is not receptive to this line of conjecture, but does admit that it is not quite as stupid as the theory that Doc has a split personality and is doing it himself. Cleo says she does not believe it’s a split personality, but that Doc might well steal from himself just to cause drama. Doc is appalled at the very idea that he would do ANYTHING to cause drama. Of course, when 1.21 rolls around it’s going to be a different story, he promises. There will be Hermitcraft meetings with Doc’s behavior as a talking point again, he guarantees it.

1:46:40 Doc and Cleo argue about loopholes and whether or not they work on Hermitcraft. Cleo points out that you cannot have loopholes in a system with no written laws. Scar proudly holds up the Scroll of Scrolls and declares that he does, in fact, has a copy of all written laws plus the progress of the investigation! Cleo and Ren are both interested in hearing this. Scar shakes the scroll a few times and then admits he forgot what they were talking about. Doc makes everyone turn around so he can get into the alarm system again. Nobody turns around. Ren tries to protest that he is Doc’s husband and the most loyal of Hermits. Scar suggests that Ren has spent a lot of time these past few streams talking about how loyal he is. Doc still thinks the culprit is Cub. Cleo says of course the culprit is Cub. Ren says maybe Grian, and Cleo shuts everyone down. They are not spending another stream doing the pointless speculation thing, everyone knows it is Cub and they are all just going to pretend they’ve forgotten.

1:49:40 The sky darkens and Ren pulls out a bed to sleep. Scar claims to have blanked again and not know what they’re talking about, but seems to be using that as an excuse to break the bed under Ren. This of course triggers the alarm again. Cleo and Scar laugh, Ren apologizes, and Doc threatens the life of unspecified parties. Chat loves it. Ren says he has to sleep, and Scar protests it’s just instinct to break a bed. Doc resets the alarm again. Ren promises the never sleep on the stairs again. Doc gets tagged by the Warden. Scar suggests maybe just putting the warden away for awhile. Ren is worried about all the stress his husband is under. Cleo asks if Ren’s considered the possibility of dementia, given that Doc is the oldest hermit. Ren allows that this is true. Doc scolds them all for picking on the elderly (and also Cleo is old too!) Cleo says yes, but not as old as Doc! Doc points out that they all know Scar is 48, which draws immediate, vociferous protest from Scar. ((A ‘famous birthdays’ website once asked Scar to provide his birthdate and when he declined, they just made something up. Scar has been fighting the rumors ever since. The Hermits like to exaggerate even that, since the website claimed that Scar was born in 1982.)) His headphone falls off again.

1:51:50 Cleo asks Scar if he’s really going to tolerate that sort of insult from Doc. They think Scar should go ahead and accuse Doc of ore-snatching right now. Scar thinks about that for a moment and then breaks a sand block. The alarm goes off again. “Don’t call me 48!” he insists over the noise. “Jesus Christ,” Doc mutters and goes to fix the alarm again. He only came online because he wanted to measure the targeting on the new TNT cannon he is designing. Everyone thinks that sounds like fun. Scar and Cleo ask if they can see Doc’s redstone. Scar breaks another block and sets off the alarm for a fourth time just as Doc resurfaces, then says they really probably ought to leave Doc alone. Cleo protests that that’s no fun. Ren wants Doc to know he had nothing to do with any of this. Cleo places a block of polished diorite, then protests that they haven’t done anything since they haven’t actually broken it yet. Scar sees the possibility inherent in this and begs Cleo to put a hat on the goat statue. Preferably a propeller beacon.

1:54:00 Scar asks if everyone has heard the good news of the upcoming popup shop ban, enforced by the will of the Poe Poe and their clock. Cleo has heard of it and compliments Scar on his excellent redstone. Doc points out that his redstone doesn’t actually do anything. Scar tells Doc kindly that it’s ultra-redstone and he wouldn’t understand. Cleo agrees that Scar is operating on a whole other level. Scar tells Doc that he and his Shadow Collective ((a seldom-used channel on Scar’s Discord where he goes for redstone help)) operate in a whole different realm. The Shadow Realm. Doc heaves an incredibly audible sigh. He spent a long time doing incredibly repetitive tasks today and just came on to dig a little hole, but now he is here and it has been an hour and none of them have learned anything but he’s starting to wonder if the Ore Snatcher is just going to troll him by setting off the alarm and leaving. Cleo agrees this is an excellent and easy way to troll.

1:56:00 Ren finds the diamond ore block on top of the shop. Doc has already seen it, but Ren insists that the omission of capital letters is some kind of clue. Doc thinks that the use of glow ink is important. Ren thinks it was Joel. Doc agrees that Joel has a motive, because he got roped into a sand revenge he had no part in earning. Joel believes sand duping is fine, so he should’ve been excluded from revenge, ergo: motive! Cleo wants to make it very clear that Doc is never going to get sand duping. “We’ll see about that,” Doc replies. They relitigate the sand duping issue for a minute, but finally Doc concludes that the culprit is Joel or Cub. “It’s CUB,” Cleo reminds everyone again. Scar insists that he is the investigator and he’ll be doing the finger-pointing here. He did see Cub once pull out an entire box of signs that he uses to place funny signs around for people. The conversation winds around for several more minutes until somehow Doc is arguing that it was Cub and Cleo is arguing that it wasn’t necessarily Cub. It’s starting to get dark again. Cub sleeps through the night.

2:02:30 Despite their best intentions, the Hermits keep speculating about the identity of the Ore Snatcher. Cleo puts forth the idea that it’s a Mission Possible task set by Iskall, and that multiple people are involved. Investigator Scar likes this idea and wants to hear more. Chat is unconvinced by the theory. Cleo thinks there’s a Mission Possible task that is “Take a diamond block from Doc’s redstone, but do it offscreen and secretly” and that several people have gotten it by now. There may also be a task to put diamond blocks back in Doc’s redstone. ((Skizz actually did replace diamond ore as part of an MP task, but the task was “Do a good deed for another Hermit and don’t take credit.)) Doc points out that the Mission Possible tasks tend to be generally wholesome and not all-out griefing, while Ren points out that the purpose of Mission Possible is to generate content, which cannot be done with a mission that must be offscreen and secret. Scar points out that they’ve literally spent several streams doing almost nothing but talking about this, so content accomplished? Chat is pretty sure Iskall has said that no Mission Possible tasks are specifically targeted.

2:03:50 Doc says it’s time for everyone to leave and do the things they need to do. Cleo hasn’t got anything to do, that’s why she’s here. Ren is just waiting for Skizz to get online so he can be deposed ahead of tomorrow’s court case. Scar points out that Skizz’s new skin looks like the Quaker Oats man. Cleo says it’s supposed to be a barrister’s outfit, that barristers and solicitors are British lawyers and they wear little white wigs. Scar asks what the difference is, but Cleo is not sure. Everyone has their own theory on the matter. ((Barristers practice trial law and make court appearances, solicitors handle legal affairs and paperwork matters. Only barristers get to wear white wigs.))

2:05:30 Scar sees a pillager scouting party and considers starting another raid at the sacrificial village. Doc goes to find somewhere to blow up. Scar shakes his head as Doc leaves, saying that he needs to step up his investigations game before Doc loses his mind. Cleo disputes Doc having a mind to lose. Scar tells Ren and Cleo a less convoluted version of his great success with Magic-Hands-Man-wrangling. Ren is impressed. Scar tells him he can catch it on his VODs channel! They go and investigate Jevin’s new head shop. A chatter asks Scar who wrote the notes of mayoral advice that were supposedly from Jellie in Season 7. Scar says of course it was Jellie.

2:07:30 Jevin’s shop is accessed through the dragon’s mouth, which reminds Scar of Disney. Cleo has never been to Disney. Scar remembers that Cleo’s Disney trip was cancelled due to the pandemic. They are both sad about it. Scar sees barrels on the wall with each Hermit’s name on them. He asks what they’re for. “They’re our heads,” Ren explains. “But they’re empty,” Scar protests. Ren says that the prices in the shop are too low, that Jev is only charging one diamond per cat head, for instance. He would charge much more, who wants to kill cats? Cleo, Scar and Chat are all upset. Scar immediately confiscates the two Jellie heads from the box, on the order of the Poe Poe, and announces that Jev is welcome to sue him but he will NOT be selling Jellie heads from that box. Chat is howling for slime.

2:09:20 Cleo raises the half-hearted defense that she doesn’t think Jev probably thought about the fact that he was killing Jellie cats because, well, Jev. Ren is still preoccupied by how little Jevin is charging for various heads, calling them “Season 6 prices.” Scar insists that they need to bring back Season 6 prices. He has only three diamonds. Ren also has zero diamonds. Cleo, who is actively trying to give away some of the many, many diamonds she has earned from her shop, gives Scar four diamond blocks. Scar is happy. Ren suggests they go diamond mining, a very lucrative activity in this version of Minecraft. Scar wants Bdubs to get off the dime and get his lawsuit rolling, because he is owed some serious diamonds by an imaginary man and some snails!

2:10:35 Ren realizes that Scar has a literally mountain made in large part of diamond ore blocks. Scar insists that those are an escrow account, though does not specify to whom or for what reason. Also the mountain has a large hole in it, thanks to those snails! Gem, who is stream sniping, calls it an escargot account. Cleo gives Ren some diamond blocks too. Ren notices the escargot joke and laughs until his eye starts hurting. Scar complains that his ear hurts from the headphones. Cleo yells at him, in a very muted fashion, to get new headphones. Scar cannot hear her because he needs new headphones. In chat, Gem boasts that Ren cannot handle her dad jokes.

2:11:50 The group leaves the head shop, Ren sadly predicting that Jev won’t get good trophies from the shop at these prices. Cleo tells them that she got the 2500 diamond trophy today. Ren experience a moment of disgust at the rampant capitalism until Cleo points out that she _literally just_ gave him a bunch of diamonds. Scar wants to see the trophy. He also wants to know where to sign up for trophies, now that he has a shop. Cleo takes him to sign up for trophies. He is disappointed that Hermits have to pay for his own trophy. He says this is like the time that his brother saved somebody’s life and the Navy told him that if he wanted the medal, he had to pay for it. Chat thinks that is strange because usually service members don’t pay for medals, but Scar promises there’s a story and he will tell Chat later. Cleo and Ren note that Ren’s head is not on the leaderboard yet, he is represented by a squid. Cleo says that’s easy to fix, just put down a bed and she’ll kill him. Scar doesn’t wait for such niceties as spawn-setting and kills Ren in two shots. He says it just felt like the right thing to do.

2:14:00 Ren reports that he is at spawn with nothing. Cleo and Scar collect all his stuff and take it to him. Pearl comments in chat that Spawn isn’t that far from the trophy shop, indicating that she is stream sniping as well. Scar loves Ren’s fancy hat and says it reminds him of Season 7 when he was Mayor Scar. Ren gets killed by Gem. Scar tries to Hotguy Gem, but misses, much to his chagrin. Scar tries to justify a “no thinking, just doing” philosophy as the reason he killed Ren so quickly. Cleo contends that this philosophy is in fact Scar’s problem. Gem puts on a Ren head and jumpscares Scar. Ren reassembles his inventory bit by bit, then stares at Gem to ask why she has to be this way. Cleo says Gem looks beautiful; Ren agrees that Gem looks especially beautiful now. Gem says it’s just the way she is. Ren asks why her head is so _massive._ Gem doesn’t know, it’s Ren’s head. They stand side by size, Gem’s Ren head is much bigger. Ren asks if all Hermit heads do that. Cleo and Scar say yes, but Gem believes there is only one way to find out and kills Scar. They are indeed all the same size.

2:18:00 Scar wants to make it clear that Jellie cat heads are illegal on the server. Cleo asks him not to say that because she always wants to do things that are illegal and she actually has a Jellie cat available. It was in the cat cafe but she took it out and put it in her basement so it wouldn’t make Scar feel bad. Scar doesn’t know how to feel about this, but does feel bad about the poor Jellie in the basement. Cleo protests that Jellie’s in the nice part of the basement. Scar asks for his shovel back, Gem finds it in her inventory and tells him he should name his tools. Scar did name them, but they all broke or fell in lava. That reminds Cleo to ask about whether Scar ever actually finished paying for all the books he took from the shop the other day. Scar gives back all the diamonds that Cleo just gave him. “How many books did you _take?_” she asks, appalled. He reminds her that he lost everything. Cleo takes pity on him and gives him half of the diamonds he just gave her. The group talks a little bit about Scar’s Minecraft face. Ren says it’s very hard to look off to the left and smirk with the right side of the mouth. Cleo can do it. Scar is visibly trying on the facecam. Chat is also trying, with varying results. Scar concludes that it isn’t that difficult and Ren says maybe it’s just him.

2:21:10 Cleo says it’s probably the chocolates. Ren asks if she thinks they’ve done permanent damage. Scar doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Cleo tells the story of the chocolates while Scar plays the Inside Joke horn. Cleo explains that at Christmastime they and Ren were playing Plate Up and Ren mentioned he was hungry and had found some chocolates, did Cleo think they were safe to eat? Cleo said probably yes because chocolate doesn’t really go off, but what Ren did not mention was that these were milk truffles he’d found behind a radiator, behind a cupboard, left by the people who’d had the apartment before him. “And you ATE them?” Scar asks. “They were sealed!” Ren insists. Gem plays the most appropriate “Don’t put that in my mouth” horn ever played. Cleo confirms that Ren did eat them, on camera, and nearly vomited. Ren agrees they were foul. “Oh my god,” says Scar, stunned. “Oh my god,” agrees Gem’s Impulse horn. Gem’s horn game is extremely on point today. Cleo realizes suddenly that she already has four copies of Ren’s head and never needed to kill him in the first place.

2:22:55 Ren tells them all that they are the actual worst humans to ever human. Cleo insists that she is definitely not the worst human, Gem proudly insists that she is. There are several minutes of conversation about Gem’s skin and what Space Buns are. Cleo insists that Gem’s skin’s hair design is called Space Buns but they are completely distinct from and have no relationship to Princess Leia’s hair buns in Star Wars. Scar and Ren cannot comprehend how any hairstyle called “space buns” could not be related to Princess Leia. They eventually agree to disagree, on the theory that Scar and Ren are incapable of understanding things unrelated to Star Wars. ((A cursory internet search indicates that everyone is half-correct, the “Space Buns” hairstyle of two buns in the back two quadrants of the scalp is popular on its own and is not the same as Princess Leia’s famous rolled side buns in Star Wars, but basically every source on the internet agrees that the name was inspired by Princess Leia.))

2:24:40 Scar asks if everyone has seen Ren’s spaceship base. Cleo and Gem have seen it, but they want to see Scar’s base. He leads everyone to the front of the train for a tour and is immediately embarrassed by the oxidation on his portal frame. He keeps meaning to wax that. Scar shares the lore of the Swaggon Inc brand zoo train as it travels the world. Cleo steals a few design ideas along the way. He shows off the carnivore car and Doc, who is now stream sniping, asks if he said carnival car, as in clown train. Scar insists it is not a clown train. Doc giggles. Everyone who saw Scar’s disaster mess of a storage area in the engine is impressed with his new storage car. He leads the way through the turtle and dolphin tank and tells them that when he’s done with his surgery, he and Tango are going to figure out a way to keep dolphins alive. Fifteen dead dolphins is enough. Everyone loves the giraffes. Scar leads the group to a safe distance to show off the villains car and explains his plans for that. Cleo scolds him for Fred’s sorry state of coldness. Gem and Ren agree. Scar is the zookeeper _and_ the police, how can he be torturing animals? Scar shows them the blue parrot tethered to a tree. Cleo tells him he is unconscionable. Gem says she’s going to dinnerbone the bird so it flies upside down and is even worse.

2:35:00 Scar shows off the villains of the villain car, with a bit of mayhem as the result. Turns out the witch has a surprising range with potions, and Magic Hands Man has just been itching to send out more Vex. They retreat to a safe distance and Scar explains his plan for the last, floating car. He shows everyone the back of the train as well, with the elephant and big pumpkin. Scar loses his headset again, then shows everyone the mountain he’s tearing down and Cub’s 44th hideout. Scar and Ren agree that the sign is very similar to the one on the armor trim shop. Cleo, who believes more than anyone that Cub is the culprit, still feels compelled to point out that this is extremely circumstantial evidence indeed. Scar tries to trick Cleo through his death portal but she is wise to his tricks. He goes through the safe bit of the portal and waits to see who follows him. Joe (who was also stream sniping) is under the portal waiting to hit Cleo with a trident, but Cleo doesn’t follow Scar through. Joe models his new courtroom attire of a bright green asymmetric jumpsuit, modeled after the court fashions of Star Trek.

2:42:10 Scar jumps back through the portal to see where everyone else went. Cleo insists they went through the portal and then jumped back when Scar was not there. Scar insists they were not, because he and Joe were on the other side and Joe was showing him his tight but stretchy pants. Cleo though Skizz was bad enough with the wig, but Joe has picked an even weirder outfit for lawyering. Scar points out that it is very on-brand for Star Trek, though. Joe pops through the portal to show Joe his clothes. Ren thinks they’re cool, but that Joe should get a wig too. Joe says he’s channeling the future. Scar suggests going bald entirely. Joe is concerned that if he removed the hair from the Juppet skin, it would be creepy not in the way he wants. Scar asks if Cleo likes Star Trek, Cleo confirms yes, they’ve even gone to conventions and stuff. Scar is thrilled. Apparently it was a Voyager convention specifically, though Cleo doesn’t remember who all the guests were, having been a teenager at the time. Joe can’t believe anyone could ever be so young as to not remember meeting Robert Picardo. Cleo confirms that they did, in fact, meet the Doctor. Joe is very happy.

2:45:00 The group talks for a few minutes about the mysteries and intricacies of the convention circuit, first the Star Trek convention circuit and then the Hermit-related circuit. Joe mentions that he had to pay to fly out to PAX Unplugged last year and talk with Beef about the TCG cards. Scar asks if Joe has revealed his cards, because Joe’s card is one of his favorite. Joe asks to post the link in Scar’s chat. Chat is excited to see it. Scar doesn’t have a link to his own card, but shows a sneak peek on his phone. His card depicts Volleyball Hotguy, shirtless of course. He says Grian said he needs more abs and asks what chat thinks. Chat melts down. Cleo thinks Scar’s card is amazing. It is top abs. Needs more scitties, but the abs are great. Chat melts down harder. Cleo and Scar talk about the time last year when Tumblr created a Scar Minecraft model with truly popped-out pecs, and then did the same thing to Joe. Joe is fine with that. He misses the days when he was in Marine Corps officer training and was, as his friends put it “uncomfortably ripped.” Chat has many feelings about Jitties, and they love Joe’s adorable TCG card.

2:48:20 Skizz signs on so Ren must go, it is time for his deposition. Joe wants to go crash in on Skizz and say hello. Scar thinks that idea is dangerous, they might catch Skizz in a cursing mood again. Ren mentions that the Rendog common dropped today. He has trouble getting the link from Twitter, but one of Scar’s mods drops it into chat for him. Ren points out how it’s awesome that the world behind him is square. Ren takes off and so does Cleo, who has a headache brewing. Scar bids Cleo and Joe goodbye and flies away. He notices that the diamond ore is gone from his rocket chest and lets Doc know that he needs it back, it’s evidence! What he really needs, he decides, is a giant whiteboard to keep track of all the things he needs to keep track of.

2:52:20 Scar has an evoker and that’s great, but what he really wants is to see if he can also get a ravager in a boat. Chat loves that idea. Scar makes some boats and kills another boated bannerman, then goes and triggers another raid. This reminds him that he was talking about his surgery a couple hours ago and he promised Chat the story. He tells it why they fight the raid. In 2021 he got a Psuedomonas infection in his J-tube, which is a slow-moving infection but has a very particular smell and color to it. He went to the ER for it but they didn’t take it seriously. Scar pauses for train talk and a Cleo raid. A chatter tells him he can’t boat a ravager, but other chatters disagree. Scar explains how the untreated infection led to PICC lines and full surgery to replace the tube that involved some complications. This surgery will hopefully finish correcting everything that’s still a problem from back then.

2:56:30 Scar keeps fighting the raid as he talks, popping a totem as he goes. When he had his accident at TwitchCon Las Vegas where he fell and got the concussion, he went to the ER, saw a doctor for about 13 seconds, and got some scans done. The bill for that was $22,000. Chat is appalled. After insurance and everything, they sent a bill to Scar for two cents, which they actually want paid. Scar wants to know if he’s really supposed to send them two cents. The raid ends without a ravager. Everyone is disappointed. Scar hits up a pillager outpost to restart the raid. A chatter suggests sending the hospital a nickle and asking for change. A chatter asks for cat name ideas. Chat has so many ideas.

3:01:00 Scar wants to share some good news he got on Discord. He is halted by a voice chat suggesting he use a credit card to pay the two cents, since it will cost the hospital about 20 times that in processing fees. Scar likes that idea. Scar’s news is from Hoffen, the art books are created and ready to ship within the next couple of weeks! Anyone who ordered a book and has changed their address, now is the time to get that sorted out. Scar bought 24 copies and can’t wait to get them. He has lots of plans for them! A chatter asks if Scar is coming to TwitchCon San Diego, he answers yes. More information will come later, but he has stuff cooking!

3:04:00 Scar fights the new raid and answers chat questions. A chatter immediately gets him on a Disney rant. He finds a ravager and clears the rest of the raid around it. The ravager does not go in the boat after all. It is disappointing, but Scar has a minecart too. He forgets that the minecart has to be moving, but does a very good job kiting the ravager. The fact that he’s still doing his Disney rant and his headset keeps falling off only slows him down a little bit.

3:15:50 A chatter voice-texts to remind Scar to move the minecart. Doc advises him in game chat to build a little circle of track, but Scar is on a Disney roll. He pulls the ravager back to the minecart, gives the cart a hard nudge and captures the ravager quite neatly. Everyone celebrates!

3:19:30 Scar places a little bit of track and then realizes how long it will take to minecart back to his base from here. He decides to release the ravager he just caught and let it chase him all the way home, avoiding Bdubs’ base because it is rude to ravage your friends’ yards. He realizes he can’t nametag the ravager because he has no levels, so it will be a dangerous race back home to keep the ravager from despawning. He accidentally hits the ravager four times with his pick while trying to break the minecart. Doc suggests using an activator rail to pop the ravager out of the minecart without harming it. Scar decides instead to dig a hole under the ravager and break the minecart from beneath, dropping the ravager on his own head. He flees in terror before the ravager can smash him, and the chase is on!

3:21:10 Chat would very much like to see what would happen if Scar took the ravager to Bdubs’ house, but he leads it across the water instead. Ravagers swim very slowly. Ore Mountain comes into silhouette in the distance. Scar talks about the new Monsters park at Universal Studios. He loves it and wants Disney to bring a Villainsland to their parks so much. The ravager remains in hot pursuit, but Scar’s Decked Out skills serve him well.

3:28:30 Scar arrives back at the train but realizes he doesn’t have his stuff ready to hold the ravager at the end of the line. He hastily builds a circle track like Doc suggested and gets the Ravager back into it, then breathes a sigh of relief. The ravager rides the circle track like a very angry teenager on a preschool carousel. It will keep for now.

3:30:00 Scar goes back to studio view and thanks everyone for watching and for all the subs and donos. He doesn’t have his video finished, but hopes to finish it soon after his surgery. It was a fun stream, he enjoyed it a lot! Chat gives him hundreds of good wishes. Scar is so, so close to raiding Tango and ending, but the urge for murder is too strong. Scar drops back into game view and flies wildly across the server. Chat informs him that Tango is ending his stream as well, time is almost up! Chat also reminds Scar that Tango helped him not three hours ago, making Scar hesitate just long enough for Tango to end his stream. Scar lands next to a convenient wildcat, raids into Antfrost and ends his stream.

[tarnussy]

Bit of a DIY year in review from your resident Stormveil dweller here. Soon-to-be Elden Lord for the first time.

No Steam review from me with that questionable toxic relationship line everyone is getting, but here is my year in review regardless. I am only posting this for myself mainly.

I have also shown these at some point this year (with less hours), so no changes in characters, just my self-insert Tarnished and Godrick. I nearly opened this game every day with a few exceptions since I first played it in February (honorable mention to being utterly smitten with it since release, even though I couldn't play it at the time for a whole year).

My main and first gameplay is the one with over 500 hours, and yes, I still have not finished my first playthrough. I am on Elden Beast though, and I know I want to gif parts of it because I'm doing a DIY Age of Grafting with everyone essentially being dead except Godrick (plus Rannald sitting underground forever, good for her).

I also don't know what outfit to wear for the final cutscene that would make sense for the ending I'm doing, I have a lot of contenders. Plus I am in no rush, I play this game to be immersed in it, to collect my little plants and to loot the same areas over and over while taking my little grafted silly guy with me - and Godrick's summon made this game 500x better, even though it was already my favourite before that.

I have multiple playthroughs because I like to be able to access every single area and boss in case I decide to make a gifset or post, without having to spend hours to fight my way across the map to a boss I wanna gif but already fought. Therefore, Rivers of Blood my beloved, it is a gifmaker's / virtual photographer's best friend if you want to clear out an area fast for footage. Makes me sad how I feel anxious even to include it in posts bc I know how hard people tend to go off on players who use it, even if you play offline.

Other favourites are: Meteoric Ore blade, Crystal sword, Lordsworn Straight sword, St. Trina's sword, Eleonora's poleblade. None of these were tainted by gamerbros (unlike RoB and Moonveil), I went in absolutely blind when it came to weapons and I used what I genuinely liked and like to this day. My fav kind of magic is gravity magic.

One thing I am sad about is the gameplay timer, and the fact that it stops at 999 hours played. That will probably be the only thing that will stop me from continuing my very first playthrough on my main character. I must track the playtime at all times. We'll see.

Oh I guess it won't hurt if I mention that ER is my first Souls game, and it was nowhere near as hard and scary as people tend to tell that to new players. It was fine, save for late game areas. But I guess it also helped that I came to open world fantasy games from survival horror games, so getting my ass kicked was just normal. Now of course I'm so used to the keyboard settings on this game that I can't even go back to other games like TW3 at the moment because my brain just can't comprehend it. I constantly want to double jump with the horse in other games.

Yeah I could go on for hours just talking about what comes to mind, but that is enough I believe. Favourite game. Thank you Godrick for terrorizing my Souls-virgin ass with your cutscene when I had no context or idea about anything at all. Seeing your cutscene and fight made me say it out loud that I'll never play this game and that I didn't see the appeal. Biggest clown shit I've ever said in my life, look at me now 🤡 I'm running out of face paint.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

More than just a game

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, oral, fingering, doxxing, stalking, and other explicit content. 

This is dark!Jake Jensen and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a new gaming buddy but he sees you as more than that.

Note: So this is my first Jake Jensen fic and it was lots of fun so let me know what you think and hope you enjoy. :D

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Special shout-out to @navybrat817​ for helping me with this idea

After too many nights scrolling through subreddits and searching for something to keep you distracted, you decided to bite the hook. Several other redditors agreed to hop on Minecraft and it had been a while since you logged in. You missed the almost relaxing ritual of mining and building.

You joined the chat, quick to hit the little microphone emblem as you listened to the voices in your headset. You learned long ago to keep your mic muted on the servers, especially with strangers. The last time you dared to speak up as a woman in a game chat, your DMs had become so overwhelmed you deleted and started a new account on Discord and changed your ID on Steam.

You were all given your tasks as players called out coordinates and you kept to chopping up the side of a mountain. You mostly worked alone, chatting through text instead of voice chat. As you placed a crafting table in your little mine, another player, JJ-Smooth, popped up and dropped some iron for you. 

He stayed close but you didn’t mind. A lot of players tried to work together the deeper they got and you were used to it. As you uncovered some lava, he dumped water before you could get burned and helped you hack up the obsidian. 

He thanked you on the voice chat but you knew any courtesy in return would earn you the attention of the entire server. So you dropped some gold for him and went on your way.

“I hear a zombie,” he warned.

You turned to hack up the undead before it could get you, only to be shot by a skeleton hidden on the next level. Another appeared and you died before you could hide, the bony villain killed by your ally as you watched your possession scatter over the death screen.

“Hey, I got your stuff,” he said as you loaded back up, “I’ll find you.”

You typed quickly in the chat, ‘sorry, mic busted, give me your coordinates and I’ll come to you.’

You waited as ‘JJ-Smooth is typing…’ appeared at the bottom and finally he sent the numbers. You hopped over the blocky hills and through the forests until you found the mine again. He was just outside and handed over all your tools and ration. He headed back into the mine and you followed him. This time, you began your own path in the opposite direction.

Before you knew it, you’d lost track of time. You sat back as you realised it was only you and JJ on the server. The silence should have tipped you off earlier. He was the host and you felt super awkward for staying so long. You typed that you were logging off for the night and thanked him. 

You hit the keyboard with your knuckle and yawned as you opened the screen, 

“God, it’s late,” you muttered.

“Hello?” he said.

Your eyes rounded as you looked at the mic symbol and the lack of red line made you cringe. You’d hit an extra button without noticing.

“Um, hi, sorry, I just--”

“Mic busted, huh?” he asked.

“No, I--” you didn’t know what to say, “anyways, I should--”

“So, you’re a chick? Is that why you mute?”

“Uh, well, it’s just… easier, sorry, I--” even if you weren’t trying to hide from gamer dudes, you weren’t the best at conversation.

“A gamer girl, nice,” he said and you sighed, “sorry, that sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” you touched your bottom lip as you cupped your chin, “it’s late, I have to work tomorrow.”

“You comin’ back?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“I don’t know--”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said abruptly, “promise, lips sealed.”

“I really don’t know if I can do this too much, I usually work early mornings so… yeah,” you said.

“I get it but you know you’re always welcome, hope you don’t mind if I send you an invite now and then. No pressure,” he offered.

“Uh, sure,” you shrugged, “okay, yeah, good night.”

You left the chat quickly and pulled off your headset. Shit.

‘I’m Jake by the way,’ a pm popped up, ‘gg.’

You typed back, ‘gg, it was fun’ and quickly logged out. You sat back and rubbed your eyes. Well, he didn’t seem like a total creep, maybe just a bit awkward but so were you. You shut down for the night and stretched out as you switched off the lamp. You were going to pay for your session in the morning.

🎮

A few nights later you got an invite to the server. You debated it but as it was Friday, you decided to make good use of the PC you’d saved up forever to build. You spawned in the middle of nowhere and built a bed before you found the half-finished settlement. You joined the chat but you must have been early as you were the only one there.

You headed back to the same mine, some work done since the first night, and laid your torches as you ventured into the depths. You jumped in your seat as a voice broke your peace.

“I don’t think anyone else is gonna join,” JJ-Smooth, or Jensen said, “you think maybe you’ll unmute?”

You stopped your mining and stared at the screen. You hovered over the mic button and re-read his name, he was the only other one there. You clicked and gave a strained smile to the screen.

“So, um, what’s the goal tonight?” you asked.

“Get some materials and go back to the settlement, keep building, oh, maybe we could try a portal, you ever gone to the nether?” he said but before you could reply he kept on, “shit, I shouldn’t assume, you seem like an experienced player.”

“Yeah, a few times, but I’m more a casual miner,” you went back to harvesting stone and ore.

“Ah,” he said, and it was silent for a moment, “so, you work again in the morning?”

“Not tomorrow,” you said as you focused on the game, “daycare isn’t open on the weekends.”

“A daycare, huh? That sounds fun, I love kids… not in a weird way but you know, I… urgh, I have a niece,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “nah, that’s cool though, sounds more fun than my gig.”

“Oh?” you turned and kept your axe moving.

“IT. You know, some people would be like ‘hey Jensen, why do you spend all your free time staring at a screen when that’s what you do at work?’” he scoffed, “well, who says I’m not mining there too.”

You wrinkled your forehead and gave a small laugh. He was rambling and it was kinda odd. You were happy for once not to be the strange one.

“But anyway,” he said, “I found lots of diamond over here. If we get some lapis lazuli we can build an enchanting table and get some sick armour.”

“Awesome,” you pressed your fingertips to your lip as you leaned on your elbow, “should try to head back before dark…”

“Hard to tell down here. How about you mine and I’ll keep an eye out for monsters?” he offered.

“Sure,” you agreed as he came onto your screen, “that works.”

🎮

Another week went by and you ventured back into the server a few times but not for very long as late nights did not mix with young children. The next weekend, you joined again on Saturday night and like the last few times it was just you and Jensen. You wondered why no one else was joining when the subreddit was so popular but you didn’t worry about it for long.

You mostly played in silence, Jensen did most of the talking and it was never about anything more than the game or his niece’s last soccer game. That night when you left the game, he kept typing on Discord.

‘I like playing with you,’ his message blipped up.

‘Same, thx.’

‘Really, you’re awesome.’

‘Thx :) Tired, gotta sleep.’

‘Sweet dreams.’

‘Night.’

You changed your status to offline and dragged yourself to bed. You opened your phone as you laid in the dark and went to the subreddit, you scrolled through the builds and screenshots of other people’s catastrophes. 

You came to Jensen’s last invite post from that night but all the comments complained that the world code was incorrect. Hmm, you should tell him next time.

You blackened your cell and plopped it on your night table. You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow, the light still etched into your vision. You fell asleep quickly and woke the next day to another invite from Jensen.

‘How about some Fortnite? If you’re into it?’

‘Srry, can’t, my mom’s expecting me for lunch.’

‘2 bad, maybe later.’

‘Maybe’.

You got ready to go see your mother for your usual Sunday afternoon visit and it went by like any other. When she asked you what you’d been up to, you didn’t mention the gaming, she was never a fan of it. When you got back home, Jensen was messaging you again. You didn’t open the notification and settled in to catch up on some streaming before another week of work.

Monday hit you like a train and you were glad you hadn’t spent the night mining again. If you had, you doubted you’d even be able to open your eyes. You got to the daycare centre and welcomed in the kids. You got them set up for the morning snack then cleaned up as Sandy took them over to the reading circle.

You wiped the tables and then did some painting before you went out for some play time in the yard. As you watched several of the children on the swings, you glanced around. There was a man across the street. You squinted through the chain link as he seemed to be watching but assured yourself it was nothing as he quickly headed for the corner and disappeared.

Inside, the kids were due for quiet time, some napped and those who didn’t, stared at the ceiling and yawned. You could have joined them but knew that wouldn’t be acceptable. The end of the day came and you helped the kids pack up their paintings and their sweaters. You waited in the yard with them as the parents showed up and handed them off one by one.

You waved to Danika as she clung to her mother and your eye was once more drawn beyond the chain link. The same faded grey jacket, the same glasses, and the hat with the frayed brim. It was a better look at the man. Was he looking at you? Why on earth was he hanging around outside a daycare?

“Sandy,” you turned and lowered your voice as she neared, “see that man?”

She peeked over and shrugged, “which one? The guy crossing the street?”

You looked up again and like before, he was walking away casually as if he hadn’t just been staring through the fence. You shook your head and huffed. “Sorry, never mind.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she waved her fingers, “come on, let’s clean up.”

With the kids all sorted out, you went back in and tidied up the last of their mess. You and Sandy were friendly but like with any, you weren’t very talkative. You never really knew what to say but you were never unkind.

You pulled on your jacket and checked your purse for your phone and wallet. You checked the time and turned off the lights. You bid Sandy goodbye as she headed for her SUV and you took your usual route down the sidewalk towards your bus stop. 

You stopped short as the man was there. You were paranoid, he must just be waiting for the same route. You approached and he turned to watch you as you sat on the bench. He smiled and the dread sank deep in your chest. 

His rectangular glasses gave light to his blue eyes and a goatee trimmed his jaw. He was tall and well-built, you could tell even under his comic book tee. He was going to talk to you, another weirdo in the city.

“Hey,” his voice was chillingly familiar, “how was your day?”

You stared at him and blinked cluelessly. You looked around, it was only the two of you. You opened your mouth but you had to be wrong. He said your name and you winced.

“Jensen?” you breathed as you stood and squeezed the strap of your bag, “why? How--?”

“You weren’t answering me, I was worried,” he said, “just making sure you’re okay.”

“What the-- I don’t understand how--” He stepped closer and you backed up against the bench. “Don’t, I’ll scream.”

“Scream? Why? I’m just-- You know me, it’s me, Jensen.”

“You doxxed me?” you snapped, “what the hell?”

“No, I didn’t-- I’m just checking on you--”

“I don’t know you,” you said as your heart began to race, “so please, leave me alone,” you edged away from him, “and don’t message me again.”

You sprinted across the street and as you came up on the curb, you looked back at him. He watched you but didn’t follow. You could tell from there he wasn’t happy but the brim of his cap shadowed most of his face so you couldn’t guess if it was hurt or anger. You quickly spun away and continued down the next street to the nearest stop.

You couldn’t believe he’d just shown up like that. You couldn’t believe he would think that was okay. You couldn’t believe he’d think that much about you.

🎮

You blocked Jensen on Discord and left his world on Minecraft. That night you were shaky and nervous, afraid that he would show up at your apartment. Did he know where you lived? He must if he could figure out where you worked.

You didn’t open Steam that night. You paced your small apartment, jumping at every noise. Sleep didn’t come easily but in shallow spurts that left you even more tired. You watched over your shoulder as you walked to your stop and boarded with one eye on the door.

Work was little better as you found yourself distracted in the room full of toddlers. Sandy asked if you were okay as you kneaded play-do violently. You shook yourself out of your paranoia and assured her you were only short on sleep, not a complete lie.

You took out your phone when you stepped out for a small break. Your mom had called but you would have to get back to her when you had two hours to waste. There was another notification, that one from Discord, a friend request from JJ-NoRematch. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was and you declined it right away.

There were several others from Jensen, too. He followed your Insta, blocked; he followed your mostly empty twitter, blocked; and he even commented on your LinkedIn like a weird. You closed your phone and took a breath before you headed back into the kids, their voices rising in their excitement to go outside.

In the yard, you had another look around, expecting to see him there on the other side of the fence. You were slightly relieved when he wasn’t but still on edge. You joined a game of tag then watched several of the kids line up for the slide. You lost yourself in your job as you told yourself he must have gotten the hint, at least not to bother you irl.

Just like the day before, and every day, you left work and headed for your stop. He wasn’t there either and you sat down and phoned your mom, hanging up as the bus pulled up with a promise to call her again when you were home. At home, you felt almost normal again and checked your notifications; no more follows, no more requests, nothing.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday passed in a similar fashion. Each saw your anxieties less than the day before. You even resolved to open Steam and start a new world for yourself. You spent hours mining and almost fell asleep in your chair. When you nearly tipped over, you decided it was time for bed.

You slept better than you had all week and woke up before noon. You wanted to log right back on but you had life to deal with; groceries, cleaning, and of course, making that call to your mother you’d delayed the night before. After all that, you felt accomplished and you decided to treat yourself to take out, a rare divulgence.

You called the local Chinese eatery and waited eagerly for your feast as you turned on a new episode of your current binge. You played on your phone until the battery was low and had enough juice to buzz up the delivery man. You dug for your wallet as you went to the door and unlocked it without looking up.

“How much--” you asked as you opened the door.

Your eyes met a familiar pair, two blue gems behind a pair of narrow glasses. Jensen wore the same cap and held the paper bag of take-out with a smile. You grabbed the door and tried to swing it shut but he was too quick as he slapped a large hand against the peeling paint.

“It’s on me,” he said, “I love spare ribs.”

“What the--” you gasped as you pushed on the door helplessly, “please go away.”

“You’re not answering me,” he said as he stepped closer and forced you back as his body brushed against yours, “you blocked me and I can’t even get a hey, Jensen, how are you?”

“I don’t want you here,” you tried to shove him and he shouldered you away easily, “get out!”

He slammed the door and you flinched. He put the bag down on the corner table and reached back to twist the lock without a look. His eyes roved around your entryway and further into your apartment. He smiled as they stilled and focused on you.

“This place is cute… like you,” he said and you heard a slight hesitation in his voice.

You swallowed and backed away from him. You spun on your heel and ran for your couch. You reached over the back to your phone and unlocked it as the battery icon flashed. You had just enough juice to make the call. You dialed as you turned back to him.

“I’m calling the police so you b-better l-leave,” you warned as your voice and hands shook, “I me--”

He was quick and before you could pull away, he swiped your cell out of your hand. He scoffed and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and landed screen down on the hardwood. You bit down and pressed yourself to the couch. You stared at him and kicked yourself forward as you tried to slip past him. He caught you and wrestled you back into the front room.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked calmly as you struggled in his grasp, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”

“N-no, you’re-- you-- let me go,” you stammered as he angled you around the couch. He pushed you down so you bounced on the cushion. You tried to push yourself up and he pointed his finger in your face and wagged it. 

“No, you stay,” he growled and wiped his other hand on his jeans. He was nervous, even if he was angry.

“Please, why-- what do you want?” you grasped the cushion and hovered at the edge of the couch.

He sighed and sat in the chair. He took his hat off and set it on the table as he ran his fingers through his short hair. 

“Good question,” he said as his jaw squared and his eyes turned to pinpoints, “better one, why did you block me?”

“Are you serious? You-- you--” you struggled to get your words out, your voice even more splintered by your fear, “you doxxed me, you came to-- to my work-- and…”

“I thought we were getting along. I thought you liked me,” he said with a frown, “I really did, you sure acted like it and-- I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“But why wouldn’t I be? I--” you shivered and crossed your arms as you withered beneath his gaze, “Jensen, this was only supposed to be online.”

He scoffed and stomped his boot on the floor. He shook his head as he looked to the ceiling and his anger bulged along his temple. He tilted his head and looked at you again.

“You know, for years, I have been a nice guy, I am a nice guy,” he pushed his shoulders to his ears as he threw his hand out, “I’m so patient and caring and you girls, you don’t even give me a second look.”

“Jensen--”

“No, really, I mean look at you, you’re no supermodel and yet it’s the same thing, ‘let’s just be friends’,” he spat, “but I watch guys all the time treat women like shit and they don’t have any trouble at all, they got them hanging off of them and I’m a creep for giving them a compliment or opening the door--”

“I don’t… know you,” you eked out, “you have to understand--”

“I don’t understand,” he stood abruptly, “I’m done trying to understand.”

He pulled his jacket open and slid it down his arms. You watched him sling it over the chair and as he turned back to you, you stood. He caught your shoulders and held you in place. His strength was plain in his grip as he squeezed then slowly moved his hands to cradle your face.

“I just wanna be nice,” he said as he leaned in. You tried to pull away but he moved a hand around the back of your head and forced your lips against his. He poked his tongue inside your mouth roughly as you tried to shove him away. Finally, he parted, his hands still firmly around your head, “wasn’t that nice?”

“Please,” you begged as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

His eyes searched your face as you stared back at him in terror. He sighed and dropped his hands back to your shoulders. He pushed you down to the sofa harshly and backed away.

“Fine, I won’t be nice,” he snarled as he took his glasses off and folded them carefully. He put them on the table beside his cap and twined his fingers together, loudly cracking his knuckles.

You blinked at him as your eyes grew glossy. You brought your legs up under you and pressed yourself to the back of the couch. You grasped the upholstery and turned as you launched yourself over to the other side. You stumbled as you landed on your feet and ran for the door.

You were yanked back as he snaked his arms around you and took you off your feet. You kicked out and screamed but it was cut off by his palm as he kept one arm around your middle. You scratched at his hand as he dragged you back to the couch. He pushed you face down onto the cushions and planted his knee in the middle of your back, slipping his hand away as he put enough weight on you to keep your voice suffocated.

“Listen, I know I look like some IT nerd but I’m a lot more than that, now don’t make me hurt you,” he played with your hair as he smiled down at you, “you try that again and I will shut you up and if someone hears you, I can take care of them too.”

You sniffed as tears pricked in your eyes and nodded frantically as it felt as if he would snap your spine. He pushed off of you and you stayed as you were, paralysed with fear. He sat and unlaced his boots one at a time. He looked up as he set them neatly beside the foot of the chair and he bent to catch your eye.

“Well?” he pointed at you and traced the line of your body in the air, “let’s go.”

You stared at him dumbly and he stood to pull his tee over his head. His torso was sculpted perfectly and his chest trimmed with hair that trailed all the way down to his pants. He stepped forward and tugged at the back of your shirt.

“You want me to do it for you, baby?” he purred, “I can help you.”

You swatted him away and sat up. You bent your legs to your chest and hugged them. “Please, I’m scared, just leave me alone--”

His hand rested on his belt and exhaled again. His fingers moved swiftly to unloop the striped belt and unbutton his jeans. He pushed them down, nearly tripping as he stepped out of them. He stood in his boxers, tented with his impatient excitement, and gripped his hips.

“It’s okay, baby, I know you’re shy, I am too,” he neared and you winced as he grabbed your wrist. He tugged on your arm and you resisted until he bent your hand back painfully and you cried out. He tickled your jaw as he looked you in the eye and tutted, “it doesn’t have to be like this, alright?”

You went limp and let him pull your arms apart. Your legs slipped down and your feet dangled above the floor. He got to his knees and pushed between yours. He slowly rolled up the hem of your shirt and bent to kiss your stomach as he bared the flesh. You trembled as he forced your arms up and swooped the fabric over your head. It fluttered through the air and to the floor as he cupped your tits through your bright pink bra.

“Is this so bad?” he asked as he nuzzled your chest and pushed your tits up. 

He glided the straps down your arm and slid your bra lower so that you popped out. He nibbled at your flesh and traced your nipples with his tongue. You sat rigid and let him explore your body, too terrified to move a muscle. He reached around you and struggled with the hooks, frustrated he snapped the clasps and the band came free.

He continued to play with your chest, his fingers crawling up and down your stomach and sides. There was a genuine curiosity to his touch and it sent a chill through you. His fingertips pressed to the top of your pants and he pulled at them as his lips travelled down to your hip.

He tugged on your pants and jerked your entire body. He tore them lower as he pushed you up and you lifted yourself to let him peel away the layer. He added them to the floor and toyed with the elastic of your panties. The little bow in the front drew his attention as he pushed your legs wider and ran his nose along the cotton.

He hummed and rubbed his fingers down your crotch, pushing the fabric to your folds as he teased you through them. You inhaled sharply at the tingle it inspired and he pressed firmer against you, flicking his fingers along your bud as he noticed how it made you squirm.

He gently pulled aside the cotton and you felt his hot breath against you. You pushed on his head before he could delve into you. “Please, don’t--”

“Shhhh,” he threw your hand away from his head and bent over you, “just relax.”

He dragged his tongue along your cunt and lingered around your clit. You clenched as it sent a thrill through you and he moved his lips against you, suckling at you bud as your breaths grew raspy. You pushed yourself against the back of the couch and dug your nails into the cushion.

He slid a finger along your cunt and circled your entrance. He rubbed up and down as he kept his tongue swirling over your clit and you swallowed back as gasp as he poked inside. He felt around and added another finger, stretching you as he carefully pushed them in and out of you in time with his mouth.

He lapped you up and you closed your eyes, desperate to resist the coil winding within you. Your legs tensed against the couch and you tilted your pelvis without thinking. He sped up, the noise of his mouth and your slickness filled the silence. You let out a puff and moaned as you slapped the couch. The waves rolled over your flesh and you came into his mouth with a pathetic mewl.

He stilled his fingers as he lazily teased you with his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sat back, the heat between your legs cooling in his absence as he licked up your juices. He watched you as he sucked his fingers and stood. Your head lolled and you edged forward on the couch. You tried to stand but he caught you and flung you back.

“We’re not done, baby,” he winked at you as he grasped the top of his boxers, “go on, lay down.”

You murmured your refusal and once more tried to get up. You slipped onto the floor and shakily crawled away as he dropped his boxers to his ankle. He grabbed you before you could get around the side and lifted you easily. He turned you and shoved you down onto your back as he lifted a leg over you.

He straddled you and again his hands roved over your body. You smacked at his fingers weakly but he easily ignored you. He kept one hand moving along your curves as he stroked himself with the other. He groaned and shook as he stroked his dick. Your eyes followed his hand and you gulped, he was thick.

He moved his knees back and pushed them up beneath your thighs as he kept a hand planted on your chest. He ripped your panties down your legs and untangled them from your feet. 

He held you down as he ran his tip along your cunt, wetting himself with your coerced arousal. You groaned and grabbed the arm of the couch above you. You tried to pull away from him.

He pushed against your entrance and you looked at him in shock. You couldn’t stop him. His eyes were set between your legs as he inhaled and slowly eased into you. He gasped as he got his tip inside you and his muscles tensed. He bit his lip as he dove further in and you gasped as he filled you inch by inch.

“Shitttt,” he moaned as he reached his limit and you whined at how full you were, “oh, baby.”

His hand slid from your chest and he gripped your hips as he pulled back and thrust. You exclaimed and he did it again, slowly as he watched himself impale you over and over. You curled your fingers against the couch arm and your feet arch as you pressed your thighs around him. He lifted your pelvis high as he angled his dick even deeper.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, “oh, baby, you’re so good. Ahh-hh-hh,” his voice fizzled as your walls clenched him and you closed your eyes as you felt the heat building. 

He moved his hand along your thigh and stretched it over your pelvis, pushing his thumb to your clit as he kept his pace. He purred as you writhed helplessly against him and you panted through the rising ecstasy.

“Please, please, please…” you chanted, unsure if you were begging him to stop or for more.

He moaned as he sped up and you sucked your lip under your teeth as you neared your peak. You quivered as your orgasm crashed into you and you let out a strangled cry. He snarled and planted his hands beside your head as he leaned over you, his hot breath tickled your face as he pounded into you.

Your legs bent around him as his pelvis rubbed against you and the friction drove you to another climax. You held onto the arm of the couch as he fucked your harder and harder. He kissed you and nibbled at your lip as he groaned and hooked an arm under to hold you close.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” he said against your cheek and you turned your head away from, “ah, here I--”

He spasmed and slammed into you. He took several long thrusts and stilled. He grunted and drew heavy breaths as he rested his weight over you. He grabbed your head and turned your head up as he pressed his forehead to yours. You kept your eyes closed as the flames slowly dwindled.

“Was that so bad?” he stroked your cheek and trailed his finger down to poke between your lips, “No, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it, baby?” he wiggled his hips and you hissed, “yeah, you want me.”

[maple-cloak]

So I was reading @chipper-smol shitlordAU and got inspired to make this Drabble

Basically it’s a 4K (wait Fuck that’s in no way right I thinks it’s more like 400 wtf was I thinking) word what-if where Ghost fights Radiance but she gets scared and runs away.

Also PK giving Ghost a hug.

Enjoy!

The Radiance was livid,

or rather, more livid then before.

First it was that Wyrm, who had created itself a new form and descended as a bug, a pale and pathetic bug. Stealing her followers away with his artificial light, Refracted light, a false light from a mere Wyrm who knew nothing of it.

But the bugs of what is now Hallownest followed that false light in lieu of her own, and she soon found herself forgotten, her entire being was relegated to the sol object that spoke of her Light. A single withering statue atop the nearby mountain peak.

She had waited, dwelling in the faint dreams the statue held, waiting for what her traitorous creations called their Pale King to finish her off.

But he never came.

Instead she was left there, fuming in her own rage, when she heard someone approaching. She briefly though the wretched Wyrm had finally come to end her being entirely, but was instead found by some simple miners, who had decided to climb to the peak of the crystal filled mountain, their helmets bearing a simple crest.

The Wyrms crest for his new kingdom.

And she saw an chance for revenge.

The simple memorabilia was enough for her to infect their minds, and in turn infect others who came in contact; she commanded them through their dreams to talk and spread word about her statue. To get more to learn of her, to get more to talk, and wonder, and before that Wyrm could learn how, her rage spread forth. With enough bugs to remember she had enough power to spread through his kingdom, expanding her influence throughout the populace, causing the kingdoms sharp decline, and she reveled in the kings panic and desperation.

Eventually the king had the idea to contain her in a vessel, using the void below the kingdom to make a being with no mind to think and be influenced, no will for her to break, and no voice to cry her name in suffering.

But she knew that the king had failed.

While its thoughts were not as loud as the common bug, there were still there, almost silent, but she could still hear the mantra it repeated, still feel the slightest of wills, and she knew that it would not hold.

“Do not think”

But that is a though

“Do not feel”

But the pain so great

“Do not speak”

But you must scream

“Do not hope…”

There is no hope for Hallownest

Eventually the cracks started to form. And she began to seep her influence out through them.

It didn’t matter if the kingdom had already fallen.

It didn’t matter that the Wyrm is no longer here.

She would destroy all evidence of the kingdom, leaving nothing behind for the few survivors to call home, and once that was done she would infect one of the many travelers that came through, and become a god in a new land.

But then came a second vessel

A vessel that had manage to escape the void and her servants who impeded their escape out into the open world without her notice, and when it came back she felt a tinge of fear. It had left the kingdom, and without the influence of the Wyrm that gave those around him minds it would become truly empty. And if it were to attempt so she would be imprisoned with no chance of escape.

Fortunately, there had been multiple influences, not just from a single ignorant king failing to notice the mind it had given, but from a multitude of bugs, instilling their own ideas onto to the second vessel. Gifting it a mind and a will, and she saw it as no threat.

But then it encountered one of her formal followers -Considered a traitor even by the other moths of her tribe, and she gave the vessel the Dream Nail. The moment she saw this she began sealing the mind of her container, preventing the other vessel from attacking her directly with the weakened talisman. The “Seer” however instructed the vessel to restore the talisman, reinvigorating the nail with essence by the time she had taken back the life she gave, the Nail had fully awoken

To worsen matters, the vessel had gotten the former Wyrms charm, and used it to unite the void under its ever growing will. And when it arrived at the temple it unsealed The Radiance prepared to use its container, missing a limb and having a cracked mask from her efforts to hastily take control, to kill the smaller vessel, a ghost of the kings attempts to contain her, given form with the goal of ending her life like its parent so many years ago.

But as the Kings Ghost and the Broken Vessel fought, the Ghost hesitated. It had seen its siblings pain and saw as it injured itself in order to give it a better chance of victory, of finally ending her.

And it ran.

It couldn’t handle its siblings pain and The Radiance laughed as the Ghost ran away, allowing her to reign unopposed.

But the Ghost was tenacious, and found a way to her without injuring its sibling.

The Godseekers, they came in search of a new God after theirs abandoned them; a role she intend to fill. But the Ghost had used their mind to get to her, fighting their way through the ‘Gods’ of Hallownest, many of whom she had control over, and eventually, they arrived at the peak, at her peak.

She though she would win, in a realm where she was no longer held back by the myriad of infected bugs or the broken vessel, but that Ghost was tenacious. And each ensuing fight it grew closer to victory, closer to consuming her within the void.

And it did, it had given the void focus, and it had consuming her.

But despite this, despite struggling within its clutches, her light drowning within its dark abyss. She found herself back in Hallownest, the people still panicked over the ‘disease’ that spread, the king struggling with his ‘solution’.

She has gleefully taken the second chance at ruining his kingdom, being more thorough then before, but as she infected a chef in order to ruin the kings meals (rather petty, but the further unrest that it would give the king was absolutely delightful) she found it slain by the very Ghost that slew her. She almost didn’t recognize it since it had molted, but it’s movement made it undeniable.

It too had been sent back, and The Radiance was livid.

Or rather, more livid then before

But not only that, she found herself trembling, not just with rage, but with fear. The being no longer had the same control over the void, but it still had the same skill that enabled it to use it at her most vulnerable, it was still the same being that killed Absolute Radiance.

Despite seemingly despising the very same Wyrm, making their life all the more frustrating, it refused to let her have her revenge. And it sought to do what it did before again, this time before she could end the kingdom.

And she was scarred.

———————————————————

The Feral Vessel and the Pale King had gotten into an argument.

Now this wasn’t particularly surprising, the two had always butted heads, but this argument was very heated. The vessel, who seemed to named itself Ghost, had been getting on the Wyrm’s case about its treatment of the Pure Vessel, while the Wyrm got angry at Ghost for instilling ideas into it, and that it they shouldn’t interact it as they have been.

The Pale King now sat in his room, it had been almost a week since the feral vessel Ghost had walked off at the end of their argument, and they had yet to be seen since. He stared at his hand lost in though, staring at the cracked void that stained it, thinking over the argument and going over scenarios of what could’ve been.

He hated to admit it, but he cared for the little Ghost. While it had caused plenty of trouble and headaches, deep down he knew he deserved it. For all the hundreds of thousands of siblings down dead in the void below, he felt that Ghost was his punishment. Humiliating and insulting him for his transgressions, the Wyrm knew he deserved it all.

And behind the mask of child-like pranks and dislike for him, he and his Root had long since suspected that they somehow knew more then even his foresight could account for. The familiarity with the White Palace, despite never once being there. How they traveled accros Hallownest with ease, knowing where hidden charms lay and even pale ore across the kingdom. Even with the few fights they have had, he heard they even wield a nail with such familiarity and ease, even ending a bout with the Pale Vessel in a draw despite receiving no training unlike the latter.

And above all, how they still care for his Root, and how she cares for them. How she enjoys mentoring them (and occasionally aiding in embarrassing the Wyrm but it’s hard to be mad when your wife is practically telling them to do it). Then there’s the excitement they show when sharing the language of hands they created with their mother, a language without words but with expression and symbols. It was something he actually wanted to praise them for, and something he was exited to learn as well.

The Wyrm frowned as these thoughts passed, bringing him back to the argument. Ghost was always insistent on the fact that the Pure Vessel wasn’t… pure. Hollow. Empty…

Unable to properly contain the Radiance.

And the worst part was that he knew they were right. He didn’t want to admit it, but Ghost was always right, even before they interfered, the vessel was never pure. The King always claimed that he knew what to do, how to solve the problem and that the Pure Vessel - Hollow, Ghost had taken to calling it (no doubt because his young sister, Hornet, calling it that) was the only, and the right answer.

He had practically abandoned his foresight by now, the only path he could see since tossing all those eggs into the void was one were his beloved kingdom fell, his beloved subjects who he cared so much for dead at the hands of a spiteful light, their burning corpses wandering his kingdoms husk. All that he worked for, and all that he is, was doomed.

The Pale King was snapped away from with thoughts with a knock as his door, and he quickly regained composer, if anything he could give his subjects some hope for their future. Calmly (or at least appearing so) he walked to the door and opened it.

“What is it?” He asked the guard, they were panting, having run as quickly to fetch the King

“T-the… “ the guard cleared his through. “There’s a messenger here my lord, form the Archives, says it’s urgent”

The Wyrm steeled himself, news from the Archives ment news of the infection. He dismissed the guard and swiftly made his way to the entrance hall, greeting the messenger, whom he recognized to be Monomon’s assistant.

“What is it Quirrel? Has Monomon learned something?” He inquired, startling the bug as he shot up straight.

“Y-yes your majesty it’s about the infection…”

Quirrel paused briefly for a breathand the Pale King noticed the faintest to hope in his voice

“The infection, it’s… it’s regressed”

The news had startled him, regressed? The Ra- the Old Light was the cause of the infection, it’s no ordinary disease she invade their mind and takes over . For the infection to regress would mean…

“Prepare me a stag for the Queens Station.” He ordered a nearby servent, who had already been anticipating such a command and he made his way to the Archives in the Fog Canyon.

He made his way swiftly through the caves, Quirrel aiding in avoiding the various Ooma’s that lived there.

“Monomon what do you mean the Infection has regressed?” He asked, walking straight into the main office.

“Well you majesty it’s exactly that, previously infected bugs have either lessening symptoms, regaining control over themselves, or simply becoming uninfected entirely!” She responded, expecting the king not to barge in in such a manner.

“But that would mean…”

“…somethings happened to the Old Light”

They both paused, a silence filled the room as they wondered what could’ve happened. As the Wyrm ran a hand up its face a though crossed his mind. Ghost, they always knew more then they should, familiar with things they have had no way to experience before. Could they have…?

“Keep looking into it, I’ll see if I can figure anything else”

“Be careful my lord” Monomon responded as they left the archives.

A single thought ran through his head, ‘Where was that Feral Vessel? Where is Ghost?”. It had been a few days yes, but what if they were preparing for something, going from one corner of Hallownest to the next to get what they needed for… whatever it was. He made his way to the resting grounds, where Ghost would regularly search for… something, but he found no evidence of them being there. We’re else would the feral vessel have gone? He stood in a empty plot, a place where he planned to build a monument for the dreamers.

Deepnest? No, hornet would not have wondered where they went when she came to visit. The Queens Gardens? No, his dear Root would’ve found them easily in her domain. So where could they be? He though it over, could there be anyone who would know of their whereabouts?

He paused. Grimm. Ghost had shown an unusual affection for the Troupe Master, and… he froze in a panic. When Ghost had first met Grimm his foresight had shown him the infection being killed form the inside.

He immediately took off, flying over to where the Troupes tent resided. No! They couldn’t have? Panic filled the Pale King, how could he not realize? Ghost was going to enter Radience’s realm with Grimms aid! They were, no they ARE fighting the Radiance!!!

The Pale King stumbled as he landed in front of the tent running inside.

“Grimm! Grimm!” He barely hid his concern for his child skidding to a halt in the middle of the show ring.

“Grimm!” He called out once more as the Troupe Master appeared with his usual (but still well performed) burst of flame.

“With what do we-“

“Not now Grimm, where is my child!” He interrupted the Nightmare Vessel, earning a slight frown that quickly turned into a sly smile.

“Your child hmmm~ and here I though that particular vessel was an annoyance you would love to be rid of.” He sneered, while normally the King would retort to such a comment, he was too preoccupied with the well-being of his little Ghost.

“Grimm, please” he pleaded out of breath. “Is… are… are they alright?”

Grimm paused, staring blankly at the Pale Wyrm. “I’m afraid I can’t be certain of their fate.” He stated blankly.

“Did they…?”

“Yes” Grimm nodded, not even needing the hear the question proper.

“They entered the realm of dreams to fight The Radiance, a trip that’s - unfortunately, one-way.”

The Pale Wyrm fell to his knees, tears that were once held right below his eyes végane to flow. Grimm for one was somewhat uncomfortable, not so much for having someone break down in front of them, no it was who had fallen before them with tears flowing down their face. They had never imagined the Wyrm to do such a thing, they never seemed the type. The type to adamantly refusing to untill alone or with someone they are close to, and even then resisting the urge to cry.

“I did make sure they knew what they were getting into.” Grimm comforted attempting to lift his spirits. “They even insisted we dance to show they were able, and might I add, they put up quite the performance.”

“They we-are quite stubborn.” The Wyrm said, standing up and dusting himself off, hoping that at the very least, they are still alive.

“There you go! Much more fitting for a king eh?” Grimm encouraged as the King wiped his eyes and composed himself. “Yes, I apologies, that was rath-” he stopped mid-sentence in shock, and Grimm followed his eyes and saw why. There was the vessel, Ghost, coming from Grimm’s quarters, limping.

——————————————————————

“Your certain of this?” Grimm inquired for like, the 15th time. Ghost was getting rather annoyed at the question and all it’s variants

‘Yes, I know what I’m doing.’ They signed again. They had already gotten all the charms and weapons they needed. A Mothwing Cloak which they manage to fuse with some of their void, (very painful process and it wasn’t nearly as effective as it would be if they had access to the pit below the palace.) some Monarch Wings they stole found (thankfully the Kingsmold were too preoccupied with Mawlek to notice) and a variety of spells from various Snail Shaman throughout Hallownest, (none of which were killed and/or dead, which is always good) and of course their Pure Root Nail (though they would’ve gladly stolen one from Sly if they needed one)

With those and the charms they took collected between getting everything else, they were more then ready. Grimm let out a sigh, “Very well then, do give us a superb performance hmm?” He said as he raised a hand, shooting out a light from his palm similar to the one of the Dream Nail Ghost was familiar with, only Grimms was a crimson red instead of a bright white.

As Grimm swung his hand down is a (stylish) arc, Ghost found himself engulfed in a red light, fading to a more familiar white before fading away entirely. Ghost looked around a platform similar in size in shape to the one in the Pantheon, though the material and style was different, a grey that wasn’t dark, but not light either, but the area surrounding it was, a endless sea of golden clouds.

Ghost didn’t dwell on these thoughts as they climbed up the few floating platforms, and faced the sun that bathed the picturesque scenery, knowing full well that this was no place of beauty

Ghost drew their Pure Root, their desire to protect Hallownest - and more specifically, their sibling Hollow - giving the Root its form as a blade, as sharp as a Pure Nail and just as deadly - and they faced the sun as she, The Radiance responded to their challenge with her anger.

The small platforms Ghost was standing on vanished, he fell a short ways to the larger platform he ‘awoke’ on, and didn’t hesitate to start attacking the spiteful god. Starting off with what could be mistaken for a shout, a scream towards the sky as their soul and void manifested as an upward outburst of screaming heads, The Radiance cried with rage

Blades flow form the sides, which ghost easily dashed between, not wanting to use their Shade Cloaks invulnerability too soon, as they slashed upwards towards the giant moth. They had both fought before, and Ghost had long since memorized how to evade each attack. Radiance shot out circles of swords, but Ghost backed off and jumped. aligning themself properly they shot out a spell they didn’t have when they fought before, a stream of bright daggers shot out from their hand, only a few hitting their mark before The Radiance teleported away.

As Ghost landed they quickly dashed to the side and blades shot out form the ground, covering over a third of the platform, and a beam of light from above threatened them. Using their Shade Cloak they easily fazed through the beam, and slashed at the sun-moth with a nail art before a soul-charged stomp on the ground, void and soul rising around Ghost protectively while striking at the gif above.

The fight had continued for a long time, Ghost evading or countering all of Radiance’s attacks, while the god itself became more and more desperate, as fewer and fewer attacks hit (not that many hit to begin with) as Ghost got into their rhythm. Before long, it took off higher and Ghost pursued, dodging incoming searing rays of light. But before Ghost could do more damage to end the fearful god something they never expected happened.

They woke up, in Grimm’s room, in the Troupes tent. They looked around, did they do it? They dropped off the ledge they were on and winced, almost crumpled from the pain. Did the Radiance hit them with one last-ditch blast? They slowly lowered themselves to the floor and looked down the hall down the hall to the main performance area of the tent. We’re they still in the dream realm? No, they would’ve seen the Nightmare Hearts leathery viens in the hall, and there’s no Nightmare essence floating around. So that means the Radiance has ejected them from the dream.

The Radiance fled, huh. Ghost had never considered it but they suppose it does make sense, without the dream nail they couldn’t return and hunt it down, and they had no void to restrain it. Ghost found that annoying, all that effort of collect charms and spells and other useful items and the stupid thing leaves. Coward.

With a huff the Vessel stands up, might as well let Grimm know their okay at least, and make there way down the vein-less hall. They tried to heal their injuries with Soul but found they had none, used at every opportunity during the fight with the flying puff-ball.

As they made their way down the hall they heard two voices talking, one was clearly Grimm but they found trouble identifying the other. The voice was male and they seemed distraught, but Ghost couldn’t pin a name, who did they no would be upset? Form what they could tell Grimm told them about what they did, but they didn’t know anyone who would be this upset about it.

But they didn’t have to imagine who when they saw who it was.

And they never would’ve imagined it was their father, the Pale King, who ran up and hugged them the moment he saw them.

And they never expect him to be crying.

The Pale King pulled away enough to get a proper look at the vessel, fresh tears streaming down his face and he held one hand against Ghost’s cheek, not only in shock, but in relief.

“How” he asked, barely a whisper. Ghost wasn’t sure how to respond, and was at a lost for signs at their fathers reaction

Thankfully Grimm was still Grimm and they knew Grimm

“Bra-vo darling!” He exclaimed clapping, “I have to say I did not expect this! How did you escape?”

This was enough to snap ghost back to his surroundings and found a pretty simple way to explain it.

‘Butt head ran away’ they signed

‘Don’t know worse insults’

“She… ran?”

Ghost paused for a moment, staring at their father, then made a gesture like they were throwing something to the side,

‘Ejected me’

As Ghost completed the motion they stumbled to the side, almost falling over until the Pale King caught them

Grimm, for his part, picked a terrible time to laugh openly, much to Ghosts irritation, thinking it was at them.

“Your telling me, your got the Radiance who has been terrorizing this kingdom for years to run in fear” Grim said continuing to laugh, “my goodness you are full of surprises!”

The Pale King could only stare in shock, she had been repelled? Not dead, but still, he didn’t have to consult his foresight to tell that his child he held up had bought him years maybe even a century. For them to have chased off radiance, the skill and strength they must posses…

‘Should be dead’ They signed grumpily, clearly upset at themselves but their father was having none of it

“Don’t understate your accomplishments! For you to have fought Radiance, to have beaten her to the point where she runs away? Maybe she isn’t gone for good but she will not be coming back for decades at the least! You… you’re…” he stammered, pulling the void-born child in for another hug “I… I’m sorry, for the… the atrocity la I’ve done, for my treatment of you, for… for my treatment of your… your sibling.” The Wyrm pulled away looking Ghost directly in their eyes “I was wrong, I’m sorry”

Ghost could only stand shocked at their fathers beaming praise, for their quirky frankly, unnatural behavior… and that last thing, their sibling. There was so much to be done, but things seemed so much… brighter, so much better. Hollow could finally be themself be happy. Ghost was at a lost for words.

‘We… talk later?’ They offered both too overwhelmed and Ghost, too tired, to make proper plans.

“I- yes, yes of course, of course” the father readjusted themself and his son to more effectively carry.

As they made they way out the King paused “Ah! And Grimm” he turned, facing the Troupe Master. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Grimm, who had fallen to the background to allow the two some space perked up and gave an elegant bow to the Pale being.

“Think nothing of it. I had simply set the stage and you two, had been excellent performers!”

The Wyrm nodded his head, while Ghost used its free arm to wave, and the two made their way back home.

[nexyra]

RWBY's Love Language - Part 2

Hello friend ! I'm back at it with a second part and whatever character I can think of ! (Among which best boy Oscar because he deserves it, and also more adults)

Let's go !

***

Oscar Pine

So ! While I love Oscar with my whole heart, honestly guessing his Love Language is no easy feat. One thing for sure : touch isn't is thing even if it's how everyone else chose to communicate their love.

I saw a post a while back detailing how Oscar is always putting his hands up as a barrier when he's scared or uncomfortable and that makes me cry a little instead but it's true TT. Anyway...

In the latest volumes we've got quite a bit of comforting Oscar-talks but I have to wonder how much of that is due to Ozpin's influence really. As a result I've decided to settle on... Acts of Service or Quality Time ! This is based on a few details : when people are upset with him in one shape or form, Oscar was always very eager to prove himself useful, give some aspect of concrete help (such as cooking a Casserole, ringing any bell ?). Plus I imagine that's the exact brand of help his Aunt would have needed most on a farm. Added to that, he always seems fairly happy to be included, be with the others no matter what's going on. Training ? Yay ! A movie with Jaune & Weiss ? Smiling puppy look. Fancy party ? Shenanigans together ! So yea, I love seeing my boy loved and hugged but please everyone settle for the loving he's most comfortable with <3

“She made a choice! A choice to put others before herself! So do I.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I thought you guys would appreciate a hot meal after... spending all day looking for me, apparently.”

“No, it's okay. These past few days, I've been scared of the same things you were. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be... me. But I did some thinking, and I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Ozpin

For our favorite immortal wizard aka not quite dead Headmaster... I think the answer is rather obvious. When you're so careful with your words, but also so fiercely devoted to humanity, Words of Affirmation is a must. Ozpin constantly does his best to calm, to reassure. He's good at controlling the conversation and getting people where he wants... Except he more often than not use it to make them think and help them reach an healing ore motivating conclusion. This man is so insisten on giving and cultivating hope, so painfully aware of just how much words can change... There's no doubt in my mind that it's through these very same words that he tries to fight the darkness in others' mind, even when they don't want to let themselves be persuaded. And with some help from the farmboi, Ozpin is gaining in honesty and earnestness. And that can only help in giving comfort.

But to be honest... If you offer him a hug I doubt he'd refuse, and he definitely deserves one. Also therapy. For Oscar too. Everyone in therapy 2k21.

“Ruby. I've made more mistakes than any man, woman, and child on this planet. But at this moment I would not consider your appointment to leader to be one of them. Do you?”

“It's not every day that friends are able to come together like this. Time has a way of testing our bonds, but it's nights like these that can help keep them stronger than ever. Nights like these are ones we'll never forget.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Arc. Your journey is far from over, and the same might be said for all of you. Unlocking your Semblance isn't the end. It can still grow and evolve. Providing you are willing to put in the work, who knows what could happen?”

- - - - - - - - - -

Emerald Sustrai

Now here I'm gonna go ahead and say that the way Emerald has been taught to express her love and the way SHE would rather preffered to be loved most likely do not align. At the side of someone like Cinder, and even Mercury who isn't exactly the most emotionally vulnerable person; the only brand of love that gets an easy pass is Acts of Service, and that's probably what Emerald is the most used to. I can go on a mission with you. I can help. We go right back to the "I can be useful" mentality and I'm not sure she's been shown any other way honestly. Let's be real though : if someone offered a hug or some gentle words ? She'd probably pout & fuss but I hardly doubt she'd object.

“I don't care about Salem! But I owe Cinder everything. You want to fight her that bad? Be my guest.”

“I just... Cinder was the only family I ever had. She cared about me, taught me things... But without her here, I don't know if what we're doing--”

“I've been working on my Semblance. I can help. I won't tell anybody.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Pyrrha Nikos

What's with everyone and dedicating their whole love toward just helping their teammates anyway they can ?! Stop ! But any way, you guessed it. I'm pretty sure one of Pyrrha's top way of showing love is Acts of Service, and nothing means quite as much to her as Quality Time. For someone who's been put on a pedestal and has a hard time relating to people; both touch and words can be a bit awkward. But if they're wrapped up neatly in a training session or semblance explanations ? Well that's already a more familiar area. Pyrrha gives her whole to her friends and those she cares about. And in exchange, if anyone can simply... be there and spend time with her... May it be at the ball or simply sitting in the courtyard... I'm sure our girl would be delighted.

“Jaune, you know if you ever need help, you can just ask.”

“I'm constantly surrounded by love and praise; but when you're placed on a pedestal like that for so long, you become separated from the people that put you there in the first place. But thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime.”

“I'll do it. If you believe this will help humanity, then I will become your Fall Maiden.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Qrow Branwen

If I say Gift Giving for the corvid, is someone gonna hit me ? Come on it's fun ! Okay, more seriously... I think this kind of love conversation is kind of a necessity for Qrow. With a semblance such as Bad Luck, making everything complicated... Qrow tries to keep his distance from those he cares about. And since he's an emotionally repressed (but caring) asshole on top of it... Well that kinda narrows down his option. You know what DOESN'T put anyone at risk but can still bring smiles on their face ? GIFTS. Shiny things, souvenirs from his missions all over the world to give to 2 smol nieces. Sounds safe right ? That said, as any good emotionally unavailable character in this show, I gotta say Qrow probably has a thing for helping out and making himself useful in relation to Oz, Tai or the rest of the inner circle. So you know what that means *whisper* Acts of Service.

That said ! When it comes to receiving some love back... Qrow probably likes everything he doesn't allow himself to have. Soft touches, loving & comforting words, spending time with a friend without his semblance making everything complicated... We know that's all he wants.

“You idiot. I know you didn't do this.”

“Look, pal, I'm not sure who you are, but you need to leave my niece alone.”

“No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good...”

- - - - - - - - - -

Clover Ebi

And among our newbies (and gone too soon) friends we have Clover ! Clover was a very good contrast to our dusty old crow but also a great help. Kind-hearted, perceptive and honest; he knew just how to put Qrow's self-loathing in his place and push him to give himself some credit. He always had a nice word or a joke for everyone, and visibly the rock of the Ace Ops : an expert a keeping the moral up and the mood companiable. Evidently, Words of Affirmation was his expertise. Had things gone differently, I'm sure we'd have had time for many more earnest and helpful conversations with this teal-eyed fisherman.

“It's a good thing they had someone to look up to and get them through it. Not everyone is so lucky.”

“I meant deflect a compliment. Those kids wouldn't be where they are without you. You've had more of an effect on them than you realize.”

“We don't have to fight, friend.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Winter Schnee

And today in the "emotionally unavailable" category we have... Winter Schnee ! TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS PEOPLE ! Just - I would say look at Ruby but even she doesn't talk about her bad vibes... Nor does any of the "Words of Affirmation" peeps. Honestly what's wrong with y'all people ? Anyway Winter cares so much. Is it hidden behind professionalism and a stern *big sister* demeanour ? Sure. But it doesn't negate just how much she loves her closed ones. She's fiercely loyal, and even if she doesn't let her personal feelings get in the way of her duty and doing what needs to be done, no one is allowed to say she doesn't care. Countrary to Weiss, Winter doesn't seem as good nor as aware of the love that exists in simply *being* with people. Rather, she's dutiful and ready to help any way she can when given the chance. You guessed it, yet another Acts of Service kind of love... Maybe I'm doing this wrong XD. I'm on the fence about Words of Affirmation as well. Despite her standoffish looks, Winter has always been very open & reassuring during her discussions with Penny. But she's more stern when it comes to Weiss so I dunno x)

“I don't recall asking about your ranking, I'm asking how you've been. Are you eating properly? Have you taken up any hobbies? Are you making new friends?”

“You've grown up a bit, haven't you? You're not the little girl clinging to the family name anymore.”

“You can't just buy trust like everything else! You have to earn it!”

And that's it for Part 2 ! I might do some other characters if people suggest some but I don't have a pressing need to right now. I have many ideas of songs to apply to various characters however so that's prob what my next posts will consist of (or fun templates)

If anyone has tips to create RWBY gifs or links to download the eps in good quality I'll take it ! Good day everyone !

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Somehow Technoblade had managed the spectacular achievement of becoming the odd one out in an entire community made up of rare and strange beings.

The fact that all the other residents were non-humans happened to be what made him different though. Wilbur had told him the history of the commune, how their town was founded with the direct purpose of being a safe place for mobs and hybrids to live in peace, secluded from the humans who hunted them, enslaved them, or would otherwise harm them. Their location was kept secret, hidden from most by enchantments, and they were almost completely self-sufficient in the way they were run in terms of food and stuff.

Only occasionally would somebody wander out to another village, to trade or just to seek a little adventure for themselves. Phil especially was prone to do this – a traveler at heart, his Elytrian nature – and he was the one who had found Technoblade in a rather... compromising position.

If by compromising you could mean having an arrow sticking out your back.

People didn't like Technoblade. And Technoblade generally didn't like people, but he liked it even less when they chased him out of their villages with their bows drawn. Phil had been kind enough to remove the projectile. Technoblade had bravely said it didn't hurt but then secretly dug his blunt nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave white indents. Then Phil had insisted on taking him home to get a proper look at the wound and clean it up.

Not all of the other residents were thrilled with Technoblade's presence at first, scared it could compromise their location. A lot of their tunes had changed when they found out other humans were the cause of his injury, even more so when Techno revealed this was hardly an isolated incident. People didn't like Technoblade at all.

(Most humans had little tolerance for that which they did not understand. And according to them, Technoblade was weird and very hard to understand. Techno understood himself perfectly fine, he always thought they were the weird ones.)

So he stayed and overall things worked out great. There were only minor issues caused by the 'only human around' thing. Their pub was a good example. A few of the others in the commune could simply fly or teleport, and those that couldn't had no problems either since they could rely on inhuman stamina to make the climb tolerable. Techno had a hundred rungs of a ladder he needed to brave with his pitiful human physique if he wanted to get up there. Same thing for Phil's ridiculously high-up birdhouse.

And then one day he got sick.

It was probably his own fault. Last night when it was storming he'd been coming home from mining and gotten completely soaked out in the rain. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably take his drenched clothes off and get warm and comfortable as soon as he got home – the voice sounded suspiciously like Phil when he lectured Techno about fixing his terrible sleeping schedule and eating more regularly. But he had gotten distracted by putting away the materials he'd mined into his chests and starting to smelt the ore and by the time he noticed he was shivering at how cold it was, his clothes were damp more than wet. He lighted the fire and felt too exhausted to bother getting changed, crawling under the covers as he was - though it didn't completely ward away further trembling.

When he woke up his head hurt and there was this annoying tickle in his chest, feather-light touches against his lungs. The clothes had become sticky and uncomfortable, peeling off his skin. Techno coughed into a fist and set out as normal, intent on resuming his tasks where he left off yesterday.

It would probably go away on its own.

Except the coughing didn't stop. Small bursts of it kept coming up when he needed them least. He was in the middle of one when a voice rang out behind him.

"Techno, are you okay dude?" He must have jumped a solid three feet into the air and for a moment Wilbur only chuckled at his reaction.

"I told you to stop doing that," Techno grumbled, a little too sharply. Just because Wilbur could literally appear out of nowhere didn't mean he had to use that ability to sneak up on him for no reason. Techno coughed again, hiding it in his elbow.

"You did," Wilbur acknowledged with a smirk, but didn't apologize. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look I'm doing, I'm headed to the mines." Techno swung his pickaxe up on his shoulder, kind of almost nearly dropping it in the process with how clumsy his hands were being. Stupid.

"It looks like you were hacking up a lung, really." Wilbur's features softened. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Techno responded. He started walking again, knowing Wilbur would have a hard time following him while in corporeal form. Especially in the daytime.

"Are you coming to the pub later? I've got some new plans to unveil, think they'll be sick." Wilbur did make a valiant attempt at following him, though he quickly started falling behind, floating inches above the ground and unable to keep up with Techno's human strides.

"Uh, I'll think about it?" Techno answered evasively. He wasn't looking forward to braving that ladder in his current state. His arms hurt just thinking about it.

Wilbur stopped to call after him. "What do you mean you'll think about it?"

But Techno was far enough gone to be able to pretend not to hear him as he descended down his mineshaft.

Techno liked Niki's hair a lot. He'd even told her so not long after meeting her.

It was long and wavy and a nice shade of pastel pink that reminded him of the sunset. Technoblade would consider growing out his own hair that long if he didn't know it was way too unruly to keep in shape and stay untangled. And if dyeing it wasn't such a chore – one he knew he'd be too lazy to undertake as regularly as he should – he might have dyed it from its boring brown shade into something more interesting.

Niki was glad he was keeping her company while she tended to it, combing through it with what he presumed was a comb made of a seashell. Techno didn't tell her he had only really left the mines early because his lungs were starting to strain from the dust down there, the coughing fits getting closer together with less time in between to let him breathe. He sat on the sandy shore and traced patterns into the sand with one finger while they talked.

Niki was telling him about her builds, and expressing her disappointment over how she couldn't easily show them to her friends. None of them could breathe underwater or deal with the pressure common at the depths Niki lived. But she loved describing them in detail.

She was just explaining the sea glass she was intending to use when Technoblade started coughing again. His lungs expressed their displeasure through a series of sharp pangs that shot up into his neck. The sound he made was wet and disgusting, like there was something liquid rattling around inside his chest. Niki stopped talking to look at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? Techno, what happened?"

He tried to wave her away but it was kind of hard with his body still intent on making it impossible for him to get oxygen. Techno closed his eyes against the blurriness of his vision to concentrate on inhaling slower instead. "M'fine." He could feel the phlegm in his throat.

Niki was pulling herself onto the beach a little, trying to get a closer look at him. "Are you sick?"

"No." Getting up so fast was a bad idea. His head spun and he felt incredibly shaky. Techno ignored it. "No, I'm not. It's fine. I think I'll just head home now."

He started walking away quickly. The afternoon sun felt unbearable suddenly, scorching. Or maybe that was the beginning of a fever.

Niki called after him to wait but confined to the water as she was, it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him. Technoblade walked until he crested the hill, already seeing the shape of the other buildings in the distance. He made it halfway through the grass field and then he felt too drained to continue. Deciding to sit down for a bit, he lay back and closed his eyes.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"I dunno, we should poke him with a stick to find out."

Techno groaned at the sound of loud voices, ringing painfully around his aching head. He cracked his eyes open – not sure when he had even fallen asleep - and tried to blink the three faces hovering above him into focus.

"Oh, I think he's alive. Kind of." That was Ranboo.

"We could still poke him, just to make sure." Tommy.

Which meant the third person had to be Tubbo.

Techno pushed up on his elbows to get into a seated position, hating how difficult it was. His limbs were weak, as if they were made of jelly or some shit. The light fever had escalated into him feeling like his entire body was on fire.

This was not good.

"-chno? Hey, anybody home?" Tubbo was talking to him, waving one hand in front of his face. If his frown was any indication, Techno had been spacing out for a while.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Tubbo said to the others.

"I'm fine." Techno tried standing up but fell back onto his ass a moment later when dizziness plowed into him with the force of a boulder. Tommy snorted.

"Yeah, we can tell." He reached out but pulled his hand back as soon as it came into contact with Techno's skin. "Fuck you're almost the same temperature as Jack Manifold. Pretty sure humans aren't supposed to run that hot."

"I'll get Phil," Ranboo offered, teleporting before Techno had a chance to object.

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This was going to be a thing now and that happened to be the exact opposite of what Technoblade wanted it to be. He just wanted to go home and sleep this off.

"You're not..." Tubbo broke through his thoughts. The boy hesitated, wings vibrating a bit with nervous energy. "You're not like... actually dying are you?"

Techno tried to answer but was interrupted by another coughing fit first. When he was done Tubbo looked even more anxious than before. "Probably not. It's just a cold."

It was definitely not a simple cold. Pneumonia, more likely.

"Oh good."

Techno agreed. Not dying would probably be good, even if he currently felt like death warmed over.

Philza took him to the pub, much to Technoblade's horror.

All his protests and insistence he'd be fine if he was just taken to his house were brushed off easily, especially when Phil took flight with Techno barely able to keep from falling off his back when dark spots took over his vision. If it weren't for Phil's supporting hands keeping him steady he's probably have fallen off.

Normally Techno didn't dislike flying with Phil – despite the other always making some quip about how little Techno weighed for his height. But this time the vertigo was horrible and made him want to puke. Maybe it was fortunate he had skipped breakfast this morning.

They landed on the wooden porch softly, Phil keeping Techno's arm around his shoulder as he put him down to make sure he wouldn't collapse. Techno wasn't about to admit he probably needed that, though he muttered a quick thanks under his breath, which was starting to get more wheezing by the minute. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't ache.

There were a few beds in the backrooms of the pub, sometimes used for newcomers to temporarily reside. Techno found himself dumped into one, not really caring where Phil went when he left the room. Not when the sheets were so blessedly cool and comfortable. He could have probably fallen back asleep soon if Phil hadn't returned almost instantly.

"I checked with Sneeg, he said this should help a little." Phil sat down on the bed, holding up a cup with the nastiest-looking brown tea inside it Technoblade ever did see. "I'm sorry we don't have any real potions to give you, but he's closest to you in physiology, so I'm hoping this will be enough. We don't exactly have a lot of experience with human illness."

"Did you ask him if it was poisonous?" Techno asked, eyeing the steaming liquid.

"Don't be dramatic." Phil handed him the cup. Techno sighed and downed the herbal tea in one go, suppressing his gag reflex. Medicinal and earthy, it somehow tasted worse than it looked. He didn't think that was possible.

"Great, can I go home now?"

Phil shook his head as he got up again, taking the cup from him. "You're not going anywhere until your fever breaks. You think I flew you all the way up here for fun?"

"Possibly."

Rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, Phil once again came back only a moment later. This time he was holding a bowl of what Techno could only presume was water going by the cloth that was soaking in it. Phil gestured for him to lie down properly and this time Techno obeyed without complaint.

"I think it's best if you stay here for a while," he said while folding the cloth and putting it on Techno's forehead. The coldness of it did feel nice against his pounding headache. "The pub is the best place for us to take turns keeping an eye on you."

"I don't need you guys to keep an eye on me, though. I'm not a child."

"No, you're just a stubborn asshole with pneumonia." Phil drew back a bit, smile faltering. "And also the only human currently living in the commune. We don't have the needed supplies to treat you should this get worse, so I'd rather not take the risk."

And while he did a fair job hiding it, it was undeniably clear Phil was worried.

"Fine, I'll stay." Techno made an effort of showing how annoyed he was by huffing and pulling the blankets over himself. "But can you at least get me a book or something? Won't help much keeping me here if I'll be bored to death."

Phil laughed – light and teasing. Techno liked that a lot more than he did the worry.

"I'll see what I can do."

He spent a solid week in bed.

Much to Phil's relief, Techno's sickness did not get worse. But without proper medicine, it didn't improve as quickly as they would have liked either. He had to get better the old-fashioned way: waiting for his body to fight off the infection on its own.

Most of his time was spent sleeping. Whenever he woke up somebody else was at his bedside, to make sure he could eat and drink. Phil hadn't been kidding when he said they'd take turns. It was almost comforting to know there was always someone watching over him while he slept, though Techno didn't feel the need to say that out loud.

After that first week, he was recovered enough to at least limp out of his room and around the pub. He was too weak to attempt the ladder and any sudden moves were still likely to throw him into a coughing fit that could last several minutes. But he could sit at one of the tables and talk to Niki when she visited.

Or to the others, who all seemed to be coming by a lot more often than was usual.

Wilbur unveiled his plans and talked Techno's ear off about what he was working on. Fundy came all the way to the pub to try and sell him stolen trinkets. Ranboo was always coming around with some new book for him to read, asking him if he liked his previous recommendation.

(None of them visited as often as Tommy though, who always complained about having to be there while fluffing up his wings, yet always stuck around the longest even when Techno told him he'd be fine on his own.)

And with them around, Techno realized that despite being the only human, he had never felt less alone.

[diavolodigitale]

L’appel Du Vide: 01 What a Way to Start

Not that anybody is really reading it here, but I decided to follow through with this story no matter what.

All chapters: 00 - 01 - All stories in PDF

Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack’s AI is back, surprise, surprise! Now Rhys is dismayed, Jack doesn’t care much, and the events of Borderlands 3 are just beginning to unravel. Is there any way to fix the plot of this game? Would it be any better if Rhys had to cooperate with Jack this whole time? Well, this is your chance to find out!

Spoiler: yes, dammit, it would. Everything’s better with a bit of Handsome Jack in it.

Genres: Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Alternate Canon, POV Third Person, Humor, Drama, Plot-driven (kind of? well, it has plot)

Pairing: Handsome Jack’s AI/Rhys (they’re still just talking, dammit)

Characters: Handsome Jack’s AI, Rhys

Rating: M for Mature but not in this chapter lol

Size: around 3000 words (chapter 2/11)

Sun set and rose, another day began. Rhys shaved off his moustache.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” said Jack, who was sitting in Rhys’ chair when the latter one entered his office wearing only red bathrobe and home slippers.

“Morning,” replied Rhys, eying Jack wearily. Jack almost expected him to be surprised by his presence all over again, but it seemed like Rhys did not, after all, convince himself that the events of the previous day were just a dream, which, depending on how one looks at it, might even be considered personal growth. “Let me say how much I appreciate you not stalking me while I sleep. Just so you knew,” he said, painfully aware of Jack’s realness and determination to stay.

“Actually,” began Jack, idly following Rhys’s movements around the room with his gaze, “I watched you for some time, but your face looked so stupid that I started having these fits of hysterical laughter, so I left not to wake you up accidentally. I care for you so much, after all, and… Hey!”–he suddenly sat upright in the chair and pointed at Rhys’s hunched miserable figure–“that thing from your face disappeared! I could’ve sworn I saw it yesterday...”

“And now it’s gone,” concluded Rhys with a sigh.

“Phew, great job, pal. It was so awful, I cannot even begin to describe.”

“What? I thought you liked it,” said Rhys, nonplussed.

“Yeah, about that… I lied. Didn’t want to tell you this, but with that moustache, I wouldn’t let my kids anywhere near you,” said Jack and cackled.

Rhys scowled. He got rid of his moustache precisely because Jack told him he liked it, even despite the fact that it was particularly hard for him, considering the meaning it supposedly held. Since the day before he had this strange desire to do everything in opposition to Jack. Perhaps, it was deeply rooted in his former traumatic experience with the AI. Or in the fact that he had always been kind of mischievous, either one of those two.

“I see you’re in a good mood today,” said Rhys, making himself a morning coffee. He couldn’t say the same thing about himself – half of the night he spent persuading himself not to bang his head on the wall until Jack left for good. As a temporary means, it was as good as anything, but certainly wouldn’t be a reliable way to get rid of the AI forever. In any case, it seems not to have worked for Rhys previously, so he had to come up with something else. Changing the prosthetics took time, and he didn’t have that precious resource at his disposal in the needed amount.

In the end, when he finally managed to fall asleep, it was at the thought that he was actually a little sorry for what happened with Jack’s hologram during their last confrontation. Despite all the evil Jack had done, he used to be a significant part of Rhys’s life and helped shape him into what he was now. Most importantly, he taught him not to trust anybody and to always swing for the fences. Now, being the CEO of Atlas, Rhys could clearly see that this strategy worked perfectly.

“Oh, by the by, I took some time to look through your files and check out this Kawatagi guy we talked about yesterday. Must say, he’s a very promising candidate. Maybe, I should’ve chosen him as my successor instead of you-know-who,” said Jack in a conspiratorial tone, stroking his chin and narrowing his eyes. “Instead of you, I’m talking about you,” he added in a normal voice.

Rhys sighed, gently lowering two sugar cubes into his coffee. Here we go again.

“First, why the heck did you rummage in my computers without my permission? Second, his name’s Katagawa, more precisely – Katagawa Junior. And a candidate for what? Wait, don’t say anything, I don’t even want to know. Now get out of my chair,” said Rhys and proceeded to try and shoo Jack away with a few careless waves of his hand.

“It’s not like you can’t sit here. I’m just a hologram, you know.”

Jack was grinning, of course. Rhys looked down at him with his tired sleepless eyes and sighed the fortieth time this morning.

“Remember when we first met, you called me weird? Now you’re the one being weird, congratulations.”

“Oh, come o-o-on, don’t be so bo-o-oring.” Jack disappeared from the chair and reappeared on the sofa, lying on his side with his head resting on his hand. “You know, I think I’ve now seen enough of you to bet with confidence that you don’t have any friends. I bet I was your closest friend (and don’t forget that I was your imaginary closest friend), ‘cause I don’t see how someone can tolerate that attitude for long.”

Don’t worry, Rhys, he won’t get to you, you’re thick-skinned now, you know that, thought Rhys and put his mug on the table. He sunk into his chair and turned on the ECHO device to check for any new messages.

“Actually, I do have friends,” he said in his best I-am-not-offended tone.

“Yeah? Anybody in particular?”

“Zer0, for example. I am proud to call him my friend and I’m sure he’s proud to be called mine.”

“Zer0, yeah… wait, who’s that again?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. Some things just never changed.

“One of the vault hunters who… took part in your elimination, so to put it,” he answered carefully.

“Oh, yeah, that filthy bandit, I remember him! Well, not him killing me, of course, but I think I saw him somewhere. Didn’t he have that mental condition? I remember him saying some gibberish instead of speaking like normal people do. Yeah, right,”–Jack laughed–“I can see you two dorks being friends.”

“How could I have survived this long without you trying to offend me all the time? Unbelievable.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking! Or was that still your thought? I always forget I’m in your head. Anyway, to summarize our conversation so far, we’ve established that you’re a pathetic loner with only one creature in the whole world you can call a friend of sorts. You never seize to amaze me, Rhys.”

“There’s also Vaughn,” said Rhys through his teeth, beginning to lose his patience.

“And that is…?”

“You remember Vaughn, don’t you?”

“If I’m asking who that is, then, apparently, I don’t,” answered Jack, making the irritation in his voice sound as blatant as possible. “Why do you carry around that thing people call a head, huh?”

“He used to work for Hyperion with me.” Rhys threw a quick glance at Jack, looking for any sign of recognition on his face, but there was none. “Is short, wears glasses?” Still no signs. “Has a six-pack?” he said in his last desperate attempt to make Jack’s memory serve its purpose.

To his surprise, it actually worked. Jack snapped his fingers and rolled over on the sofa.

“Oh, that ne-erd, yeah, I remember him. Where’s he now?” he asked, not even trying to pretend that he really cared about the answer.

“He’s on Pandora, doing some bandit stuff. Guess he is working for the…” Rhys suddenly stopped, hastily thinking about what he had almost let out.

“For whom?” asked Jack indifferently. The answer still didn’t matter much to him, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of Rhys keeping something hidden from him.

“For the… err… for, well, you know… coughmson coughders,” replied Rhys, sounding like he was choking on something, and started loudly typing on the table, pretending that he was incredibly busy with his emails.

“What? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Rimzon raide-ez,” indistinctly said Rhys into his fist and cleared his throat.”

“God dammit, Rhys, what the fuck are you saying there?” shouted Jack with annoyance and jerked up from the sofa. “Should I stand right behind you all the time to know what comes out of your mouth? Even your thoughts are more distinct than that.”

Perhaps, scared by the prospect of Jack constantly following him closely, even closer than he already did, Rhys gave in.

“It’s the Crimson Raiders, for god’s sake!” he yelled and landed his fist heavily on the table. He then took a deep breath to calm down and added, “He works for the Crimson Raiders. I just didn’t want to tell you.”

“O-oh. O-o-o-oh, I see how it is. He’s with team idiots now, isn’t he? Well, good to know. Now we’ve proven that all your friends are either stupid or nonexistent. Great.”

Rhys’s left eye was glowing as he was interfacing with the devices in his office. He took a sip of his coffee, scrolled down the list of new casualties reports and tried not to take what he had heard close to his heart.

“Now that I got my daily dose of humiliating you, let’s talk business,” said Jack and laced his fingers together as if he had a very profitable offer for his interlocutor. “I think we can squeeze something out of this Katamaga,” he began, and Rhys immediately exerted himself. He did not like the sound of that. “I think there’s more to him than you see. He doesn’t just want Atlas, you see, he very obviously wants you to work with him. What a fool! That’s a perfect opportunity for us to rob him of everything he has, including his pathetic corporation. I mean, I never liked Maliwan, but if it’s a gift horse… Who am I not to take it on your behalf, right?”

“I appreciate the thought you put into it, but I already have another plan, and it definitely isn’t allying with Katagawa Jr. He’s an obsessed psychopath and I don’t want anything to do with him,” replied Rhys confidently. He shivered even at the possibility of having another Jack-like associate.

“Enlighten me then. What genius idea has your corporate mind produced?”

“First, you have to promise not to yell at me. My head aches and I won’t endure any more than you already being here and talking to me,” said Rhys patiently, already predicting Jack’s reaction to what he intended to share. There was no way to keep it a secret, so he wanted to at least soften the blow.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Jack and yawned.

Rhys braced himself. Discussing this would surely be no easy matter.

“I want to make a deal with Lilith. She helps me defeat maliwans, and I give her something she wants in return.”

There was silence. Then there was a snarl and a nondescript squeal.

“WHAT. THE FUCK. ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! MM, RHYSIE, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN?” Jack appeared standing on Rhys’s table right before him. The sight made Rhys spit out a bunch of his coffee. “You’re joking, right?” Jack squatted down to see Rhys’s face when he spoke. “Out of a-a-all people in these 6 goddamn galaxies you choose her? I see you’ve been a very bad boy in daddy’s absence, completely out of your mind!”

Rhys raised his index finger and burbled, “You told me you won’t yell. I specifically asked you not to yell, Jack.”

“What am I supposed to do then, huh?!” Jack disappeared and in the next second was already standing at the window with his arms crossed, thoughtfully observing the Atlas soldiers running around outside. “I thought you can’t disappoint me more than you already have, but it seems like you always manage to conquer new heights.”

“Look, there’s really no point in talking about this. I’m my own boss now and this is my decision. I was the one to rebuild Atlas from ruins, so I’m sure I’ll be able to take care of it. Please, Jack, I’m tired and sick and I don’t want all this.” Rhys sighed wearily and rubbed a coffee stain on the table with the sleeve of his bathrobe.

“Okay. Okay-okay-okay-okay, hear me out. Just this one time, just once, let me tell you something.” Jack turned to Rhys and Rhys gave him a little nod after considering for a few seconds. It’s not like he really had a choice, he just liked to think he had a firm grip on the situation. “Tell me, do you remember Lilith doing something, anything for the sake of somebody else?”

“Um, yeah, she killed you, actually,” replied Rhys confidently.

“No-no-no, honey, she didn’t do it for somebody, she just wanted to have her revenge on me,” said Jack, stressing what he viewed as essential pieces of information to make sure Rhys REALLY got what he wanted to say. Were he not a hologram, he would probably be shaking with rage as he did it. “She wanted to destroy me, because I destroyed her boyfriend who just wouldn’t let me wipe those bandit asses, which, by the way, included his, off my planet. She couldn’t care less about all those people that died, about Crimson Raiders, about her other “friends”. She is a murderer, just like you, me, like any other person on that goddamn planet. The only difference is that she, unlike us, didn’t have ANY good will.”

Jack’s intense stare made Rhys turn away. AI’s words made him consider what he knew of Lilith, but he felt almost wrong when doing so. He shook his head, trying to scare the thoughts away.

“You just hate her, that’s all. She may not be the best option, but when choosing between her and Maliwan, I believe, the choice is obvious.

“Is it? Is it, though?” asked Jack furiously with his eyes almost bulging out. “Let me tell you one thing. Two things, actually. Despite how surprising it might sound to you, I’m actually happy that she killed me. You know why? Of course, you don’t, otherwise we wouldn’t have this conversation now, dummy. So, I’ll be kind enough to explain. Even after her betrayal, I didn’t finish her off, which means I am better than her. “What is the second thing, Jack?” you might ask. Well, here goes: she is a stinking bandit. A bandit, and the only thing you should do with bandits is kill them, but I’m sure this much you should know by now.” After finishing his rant, Jack exhaled loudly and adjusted his unmoving hair with a swift motion of his hand. To top his speech off, he asked, “Still better than Katagawa?”

Rhys, however, still remained unimpressed.

“Jack, he killed his entire family to become the CEO of Maliwan. I imagine you would think it’s a reasonable thing to do when you want to run the corporation so bad, but I’m sure you know I disagree with that.”

“And what do YOU know about his family?” asked Jack, clearly upset by the lack of expected reaction. “Do you even know anything about the way he runs Maliwan? The only thing I know is that now they are more successful than ever (even though I hate to say it). Use your brains, kid, and you’ll go further than you could’ve hoped. One of these two alliances will bestow endless opportunities upon you while the other one will almost certainly get you stabbed in the back.”

“I hear you. I hear you and I disagree. I’m sorry, Jack,” said Rhys and shook his head apologetically. He was already imagining what would such a start of his day lead to.

“Oh my god, how can you not see that you have more in common with him than a skag and a grinder! He sees something in you, and that something makes him crave for your favor with such persistence. Just imagine how much you can squeeze out of him if you give him the tiniest thing in return. It’s simply a gold mine!”

“He wants us to merge, that’s enough of a reason for me to refuse him,” said Rhys with utter disgust.  

“So what? Don’t worry about that, cupcake, you’ve got me, and I’m here to help. Who says we’re gonna merge?” Noticing how Rhys was shaking his head again, Jack leaned closer, trying to make the atmosphere more… companionable, and continued in a calmer voice.  “Believe me, I know that Atlas is your child and you would never sacrifice it. We’re gonna… adjust the conditions a little, little tiny bit. No merge, only the alliance. How does that sound?”

Rhys thought that Jack was once again confirming what a masterful negotiator he was. No matter what objections Rhys had, he always did his homework and learned his weaknesses. The long-forgotten feeling of a threat sitting right at his side returned to Rhys as he caught himself thinking over the possibility of allying with Maliwan. Don’t budge, Rhys, don’t let him see that you have second thoughts, he’ll eat you alive.

“Completely unachievable,” he was only able to utter.

“Come on, stop screwing around, will you? You’re wasting time with your fidelity to stupid principles. Have I ever given you any bad advice?”

Rhys chose not to say anything. It was as good an answer as any other. The leftover coffee in his mug already went cold and he frowned in disgust when sipping on it.

“Okay then, I’m beginning to grow real tired of this, so you better listen here, you little dipshit, and listen carefully…” Jack’s tone was once again peremptory and his eyes were drilling into Rhys’s soul. “I’m tryna help here, so stop pretending you’re a princess who lives in a tower filled with her little cute ponies and chooses to believe there’s no filth around her. Just do what I say and you’ll be on your road trip to success. And you’ll thank me later, believe me. If you choose not to do this, however, I’ll follow you around all the time, saying what a sore loser you are. All day, all night, Rhysie. You know me, I’m restless, and I can come up with millions of ways to make you hate your life. You won’t sleep, you won’t talk to anybody, you won’t eat your fucking lunch without me standing one centimeter away from your ear, whispering how much you suck. Now let that sink in. Once it has, give me your final answer.”

Jack’s eyes were glowing. His whole body was glowing because he was a hologram, that’s just what holograms do. Yet even though it was his permanent state, an unchangeable condition, his eyes looked different.

He really is serious, thought Rhys to himself. Well then, guess I’m going to die of starvation, sleep deprivation, and lack of human contact.

“Fuck you, Jack. Fuck. You.”

“Is that a yes?”

[trials-by-blood]

Umm...I always see Yautja being paired up with someone strong and skilled and stuff. I was wondering if you could write something with any Yautja being with someone who is shy, meek, and a little chubby. And when they're alone or think they are they sing along to music and dance even though they can't.XD Sorry if I'm asking too much or anything...

Fegris, the dump world where the unwanted are left to rot and crumble.

  This was once a world where the yautja would crash their obsolete vessels so that they could not fall into use by the other space faring races. Ships were not the only things they left behind. Exiles, heretics, or anyone who upset the balance of their society were also left to wither, but not all did.

  In the following ages, other peoples would use Fegris as a place to forget their burdens. The Faceless Ones unloaded their collected specimens here when science deemed that their time of usefulness had ended.

  Now generations of humans, yautja, clade, mind eaters and all manner of invasive species build their cities here, clinging to half remembered mockeries of their mother cultures. Here, all Forgotten busy themselves mining ore, seeking pleasurable escape, stripping precious metals from ancient wrecks, gambling, farming, extorting, building, destroying, breeding, killing.

  One of the few honest livings to be made anywhere, the food service industry, prospers here. Organic people must eat, so this work will never die.

  Heather, an old name from an old world no one can recall, worked for her room and board at what would best resemble a mall food court. It wasn't a particularly hazardous occupation, so long as you don't taste-test the food or stay long after the coalition of retail outlets close.

(OOC: Okay this ran WAY longer than I anticipated and I had to make the choice to cap it off at 2,500ish words. I’m sorry if this TOTALLY misses the vibe you were hoping for, I kinda got carried away. Oops)

  Once, she'd made that mistake. Even her cold hearted rock-sucker of a boss told her not to bother finishing the cleaning if it meant staying after hours, but she hadn't listened. Heather hadn't wanted to leave her work half done and risk losing her job and newly acquired living space on her first day. So she'd stayed to wipe down the counters and load the trolly cart with the leftovers for the cooler. The reward for a job well finished was stepping out into the market spaces abandoned by customers and workers but repopulated by the local Yautja Bad-bloods and their rivals, The Cranium Skaggers. They were working through a territorial dispute.

  The Skaggers were human, but barely. They injected enhancement serums, most barely tested, directly into their brain tissues via an implanted port installed at the top of their shaved heads.

  Heather had stepped out of her safe enclosed little work area into a street brawl, and was pinned between the doors she'd only just locked and the carnal violence of the city. One of the yautja, who's vision was... not like hers, must have mistaken her bright heat signature and rapid heart rhythm for a Cranium Skagger.

  Oh, she tried to run when she saw him move on her with his unhuman, talon tipped hand outstretched to seize her. Heather had dropped her bag, the keys, the silly hat which matched with her uniform, and she ran but he was fast, so horridly fast for something so big, heavy, and grieved with bulky armor.

  It only took him three strides, thud thud thud, to reach her and tangle his terrible claws into the back of her long tunic. She was thrown, landing hard, disoriented and crying out as deep, raw pain shot up her left hip and into her pelvis. Something was broken.

  She saw him, her attacker, and the blades attached to his dominant arm glistening with the blood of Cranium Skagger's, but she didn't even think to cover her face. All she could do was scream for help.

  Her plea was answered. A great clawed fist smashed across the Yautja's mask with such force that his yowling face was revealed as his helm was torn from him. Next, skulls collided with a clapping of flesh so sharp, Heather thought someone had cracked a whip above her.

  One Yautja had begun to fight another. That was when she did the sensible thing, curling her arms over her head and making herself as small as she could.

  She survived that night. That battle resolved itself as she lied on the ground trembling and weeping in terror, but her savior stuck around after all the others had left. He put her things next to her, and waited until her boss came to collect her and get her help. The yautja must have gone through her communicator for her contacts.

  The fractured hip was easily and painlessly repaired but the procedure had completely drained her savings. To her shock and mild horror, someone had wired to her account credits in the exact amount to replace what she'd spent at the Urgent Intervention Facility to fix her leg.

  When she returned to work, who was there at the food court? The yautja who'd stayed that night. He stood out like a broken finger, the cleaned hand bones and torn out skull ports of Skaggers littered about what he wore like grim badges of honor. The sight of him watching her enter her workplace sent a chill up Heather's spine.

  This kept up for weeks, until The Indecent was months behind her. She'd go to work, and he'd be there, just watching. Heather's co-workers weren't fans of her admirer. Yagon, the young clade boy who took the morning shift before her was the least fond of the yautja lingering around.

  Today, as Heather stepped past her bad-blood observer who had decided to lean against the wall next to the employee entrance, Yagon was peeking out from the door to keep a watchful eye on her as she came in for her shift.

  Yagon chittered irritably, antennae vibrating as he took off his smock and hat so he could scratch his double claws at the translator hanging on a lanyard around his the joining of his head and thorax.

  The voice emanating from the little box was monotone and purposefully slow so that it could be heard clearly as he continued chirping and tweeting.

  "You know what that creep does all day waiting for you to come in? He listens to recordings of you singing on your shifts."

  Heather cringed. That was creepy. She'd had a feeling that he'd been able to hear her sing to herself from where he usually hung around, but she never thought he'd record her. It felt incredibly invasive. She briefly imagined confronting him about it, but thought better of it. He could crush her skull between his hands as if it were a brittle little Skitterling egg. She hunched her shoulders and hugged herself a bit.

  Yagon then turned and dropped the claws of his primary arms on her shoulders.

  "I can file an anonymous report for you. Please? I don't want to come in to work one day and find out something happened to you."

  Heather sighed, trying not to vividly imagine how an exiled yautja might retaliate to that.

  "N- no, I think that would just make things worse, Yagon," Heather tried not to whimper.

  Yagon finished folding his smock and hat into his bag and left, but not before offering twice more to file that report.

  A few hours passed and Heather caught herself singing a handful of times as she fell into her work routine but always stopped when she remembered who was listening. It felt awful, being observed so closely and denied the personal freedom do anything without fear of having it recorded for some stranger's entertainment.

  Again, she thought about confronting the yautja watcher, but couldn't help the violent catastrophes imagined with the idea.

  She felt like she couldn't make a noise or do a thing for herself to make this crappy job the least bit bearable without putting on some bizarre show for Captain Cranium Crusher out there! Heather's frustration built and built until she couldn't take it anymore.

  The walk-in cooler. It was sound proof, right? The moment she finished the lunch-rush line of customers holding out their trays for their greasy food, Heather tore off her gloves, tossed them in the general direction of the trash chute and turned on her heel to stomp her way to that cooler door.

  Heather glanced over the counter to confirm the Skull Collecting Jerk was still out there haunting the seating area. There he was, arms crossed against his chiseled chest, ass planted on a chair that could barely hold his weight with his big ugly sandled feet propped up on one of the tables. Bastard.

  She pulled open the thick insulated door and slammed it behind her. First she simply bellowed angrily, stomped her foot, slapped a bag of single serve condiments as hard as she could manage, doing anything to break the severe edge from her frustration.

  "UGH! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" She tore off her work smock and threw her hat on the floor to stomp on it, "I'M JUST A SHORT, ROUND, NOBODY WHO SHOVELS SLOP ONTO PLATES SIX HOURS A DAY. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A REAL FIGHT! I'M NOTHING! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME? WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE SO INTERESTING ABOUT ME?! STOP WATCHING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!"

  Then, spitefully, she sang her favorite song, watching the misty puffs of her breath dissipate as her heart pounded.

  Now, she felt cold and her throat hurt from belting out her very favorite lyrics so harshly. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be reminded of that night every afternoon on her shift. It sucked, and somehow she felt guilty for being angry even though none of this was her fault and she knew she had every right to be angry. So Heather curled up and cried in the cooler for a half-hour at the helplessness she felt. It felt gross, and she knew by now there had to be a never-ending line of pissed off customers outside. She was afraid of confrontation and couldn't ever imagine herself actually standing up to anyone. She could already tell that she'd be crying in her apartment after work too. Whob wouldn't after the verbal abuse she'd no doubt suffer at the service counter from customers tired of waiting.

  Miserably, Heather stood and steeled her resolve to go back out there. With a deep, shaky breath, put her smock back on and fixed her hat.

  "I'll get through it because I'm good at getting through it," she told herself to make it easier to reach for that door.

  Chur-clunk. Chur-clunk. It was jammed. Oh no the cooler door was stuck. Heather put her weight into her next push, then her entire being into the push after that.

  "Oh GODS I'm going to freeze to death!" she wailed, pushing at the door again with everything she had.

  Frustration, anger, helplessness, now panic. She didn't want to die alone of hypothermia at work.

  There was a bang and a great dent had appeared in the thick door. Before she could figure what was happening, the door was torn completely from the reinforced hinges. Heather shrieked and fell squarely on her bottom.

  There he was again, who else would it be coming to her rescue and staring coldly down at her through the dead lenses of that helmet.

  In one swift motion he lifted his left arm and clicked away at the keys of his gauntlet computer with those claws. The hologram display showed Heather a collection of files marked with icons she recognized. They were just cropped, slightly fuzzy pictures of her name tag for work. With a few more taps of his claw, all of the icons dissolved. He deleted them. He'd deleted all of his recordings which pertained to her.

  "Oh, shit, you heard all of that," Heather whimpered, clutching her head with both hands in mortification. He must have heard what Yagon said earlier too.

  He said nothing, made no noise. He just stood there like an imposing statue for a few tense seconds before turning to stride away.

  She wasn't fired for the broken door and spoiled food. Before she could even collect herself from the floor in the cooler, her boss was wired a credit transfer for "damages".

  Later as she heard of his generosity, it also explained the mysterious funds appearing in her account after the hip procedure. That had been Him too.

  Her "admirer" didn't come back after that, which was a relief for the first week or two. After a while she found herself over thinking the whole thing. Yautja were notorious for being socially incomprehensible. Heather wondered if he just pitied her so much after one of his own kind damn-near destroyed her that he felt responsible for her continued safety. Or, maybe he was just a stalking sleeze-ball. She tended to flounder between the two conclusions, but one thing was certain, he was respecting her boundaries now and she appreciated that.

  After nearly a month, she decided that the best closure she'd get was accepting that the entire ordeal was some bizarre misunderstanding, totally on his part, and he did a few nice things but that didn't make up for the weeks and weeks of discomfort he'd inflicted.

  More time passed, Heather became more comfortable with her new job, and she very nearly forgot about that Yautja. The only time she remembered him were on cold days when her hip would ache, but it was pleasantly warm out on the afternoon she came in for her shift and found Yagon agitated with his antennae twitching so fast one might expect them to fly off his head. Heather looked around, hoping that the cleaning she couldn't finish the night before hadn't upset him. What she found was... Unusual, and she certainly hadn't left the thing there last night.

  It was a skull, from what she wasn't sure, sitting there on the counter by the check out scanner.

  "The Creep is back. This time he left a name with that." Yagon's translator couldn't read the inflections in his speech, but Heather could tell where the translator omitted expletives.

  "W-hat was it? His name?"

  "Stone Fist was the direct translation. I can't get the translator to say the correct pronunciation in his language and he made a scene about it until I threatened to call security. You know what that thing means, don't you?"

  Heather nodded, she knew what it meant. Everyone did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty sockets of the skull. It was as if it were staring through her being.

  "I can still file that report, Heather," Yagon offered again.

  "Don't, I mean... As long as I don't take it, then nothing happens. Right?"

  "As far as I'm aware? I think that's how it works."

  If Heather didn't touch it, he wouldn't come back. If she took it home, he'd follow her home because accepting an offering like that was an act of giving permission to pursue courtship.

  Working with that lifeless skull watching her was eerie to say the least. She covered it with her hat midway through her shift so she didn't have to look at it. At the end of her shift as she fiddled with the patterned key to lock up before she left, she considered the skull one last time. No, She wasn't taking it, but she'd leave a note. Two notes actually, one to ask Stone Fist if he would consider an actual conversation before anything else, and a second note to apologize to Yagon for asking him to speak with Stone Fist again.

To Be Continued?

[xtolovers]

The Anvil

Pairing: Aloy x Erend Rating: M ( albeit in later chapters) Warnings: Graphic Mentions of Violence, slight mentions of alcoholism AO3

Chapter 5: First Watch

He stumbles his way down to the shoreline and hopes that Aloy can ’t see his fumbling movements. Prays she is only joking. As he reaches the water he forces his hands to unfasten the straps and clasps of his armor and his head to stop thinking. When he finally sinks beneath the cool surface, he imagines steam rising from his face the same way steel evaporates every liquid it is tempered with. Erend takes a few swift strokes beneath the surface before he comes up again, kneeling in the water and just letting the river run past him. The current is just slow enough to not carry him with it as long as he leans against it.

As he fails not to think about Aloy ’s retort, he wonders if he would also feel so out of his depth here if this had happened before Ersa left for Red Ridge Pass, back when she was there to be his backbone. People mistook him for the warrior and Ersa for the diplomat, but for all her social cunning, Ersa was also made of steel, and while he did not look it, ore was not the only thing he could smith— words had always come easy to him, too. Sure, his position as envoy to the Nora was in part given to him because he was Ersa’s brother— but Erend knew and had proved that he was skilled around people. Back when they had taken Meridian back, Ersa had not been the only one to deliver rousing speeches.

No, he might be an oaf most of times, but Erend trusts himself with words, speeches, diplomacy. He trusts himself with people. He certainly used to trust himself with women. While he hasn ’t been the womanizer some of the Vanguard are — he is aware of the reputation he has to uphold, in general, even if he fails that occasionally — he has also not been without his conquests.

So why the fuck am I so out of my depth all of a sudden?

Ersa was likely not dead, but clearly this had all shaken him up more than he thought. In all this effort to figure out how to be Ersa, he had apparently also forgotten how to be Erend. But he knows that mostly, it just comes down to Aloy being Aloy. There is something so bright about her, it’s like looking into the sun, and something so fierce about her, that it feels like a Stormbird using that sun to it’s advantage for an attack. He certainly feels spark-struck when she is around, try as he might, he can’t deny it. He really should know better. There is something so entirely her own about her, and Erend thinks it must have to do with her not growing up in any clan. Sure, for the most part, she was Nora, but not in the literal sense. He’d seen his fair share of Nora, and Aloy was far from them. Her experiences with other people and tribes were limited, and so nothing has influenced her to be anything other than unapologetically herself, and Erend likes that about her. Maybe too much.

Although, he remembers their first conversation, and he ’d made a mess of that too, way before Ersa was taken. So this was all him, incapable of not making a fool of himself around her. But she’s still talking to him, so maybe he hadn’t messed up too bad.

His cheeks sufficiently cooled, he goes about washing himself, quickly, efficiently, and definitely not thinking about Aloy ’s words. Minutes later, when he’s heading up to the camp again, he briefly considers asking her if she liked what she saw, but ultimately decides against the teasing. He tells himself it’s because he wants to make her comfortable, and not because he is terrified of the answer. As he comes over the ridge, Aloy looks up at him, and gives him the faintest smile. “Feeling better?” “Like a fresh-born babe, just passed over the forge,” he says and stretches theatrically before joining her at the fire. “Passed over the forge?”, she asks, looking up from the arrows she is fletching. Erend nods and puts the kettle back on the fire. “When an Oseram child is born, a day or two later, the whole family — or sometimes clan, depending on the size— gathers around the family’s forge, stokes the fires high, and the parents stand on each side of it. Then the mother passes the babe through the flames, over the anvil, into the fathers arms. It’s a symbolic way of bringing it into the world, a rite of passing through fire, the first step to the destiny that child will forge. It’s supposed to be good luck, for the child, and the forge. Fire, steel and grit for the babe, and fresh life and a strong future for the forge. That is also the day the child gets its name, and the parents will forge something together, and engrave it with the name they’ve chosen. That way, the name and the life of the child is set solid in steel.” He looks up at her then, and she’s staring at him, equally fascinated and wistful. Erend knows she is always curious, but he wonders if he’s made her sad, and well, he can’t have that. “And then, everyone gets drunk,” he grins at her, and the spell is broken, and there’s the eye roll he’s come to know. “Everyone? Even the child?”, she asks with a grin. “Ah,” he mumbles and scratches the back of his head, “ just a sip, really.” Aloy snorts. “ Let me guess: A blessing to guarantee a strong stomach and a cup that’s never empty?” “Now, you try to tell me again you’re no Oseram!” She’s laughing with him, and giddy, he teases, “Although, you’re too skinny for that.” Her laughter stops, replaced by a frown, and he hurries to lift up his hands in apology. “I was only teasing! There is absolutely nothing wrong with the way you look. I mean— ,” he stops himself before he can make it worse. Berating himself, he brushes his hand through his mohawk. Aloy is silent for a moment, then asks, in a low voice: “What happens if the mother can’t be there?” “Hm, the grandmother or aunt, or any other female relative will do it. If nobody’s there, usually one of the elders will step in. It’s more about the gesture than the parents, although everyone wishes for the mother to be there, of course.” She takes that in silently, nodding to herself. When she doesn’t answer, he asks : “What about the Nora? Any naming traditions or something of the sort? I bet there’s half a dozen, with the fascination with motherhood and all that.” Aloy looks up at him, shaken out of her reverie. “ Uh… The parents take the child up through the valleys and mountains on a ledge high up on a cliff opposite Mother’s Heart, the last night of their fifth month. There is a small temple there, and one or all of the Matriachs will wait for them there. Then, they wait for sunrise. When the first light of the first day of their sixth month rises above the All-Mother and touches them, the parents proclaim the name, and if the name is called back by the mountains, the child is blessed by All-Mother.” “What if the name is not called back?”, he asks, and Aloy makes a face that answers his question. “They get shunned?! Because they didn’t yell loud enough?! ” He really tries to be respectful, but the sheer stupidity makes him angry. “Oh no, not them. Just the child,” Aloy says, and there is a

fierce rage in her eyes, that quickly dwindles to embers as she shakes her head and stares into the fire. “Of course, the parents can decide to be shunned alongside, if they want to.” “Fire and spit,” he curses. The Nora had irked him when he was there, but it was mostly because their world made no sense. Now, they make him angry. Aloy is cleaning feathers, the knuckles white from the hard grip on her knife. He shouldn’t ask. Erend knows he shouldn’t. But the night has grown quiet around them, and this might be the only time he’ll ever learn more about her. So he tries, gently. “So… Is that what happened? The All-Mother did not call your name back? You- you don’t have to tell me, if I’m being too forward here, just tell me to shove off.” Aloy looks at him then, for a long moment, head tilted to the side, and he forces himself to meet her eyes, now golden next to the fire, to show her there is no malice in his question. After what feels like ages, she comes to a decision, and shakes her head. “No, it’s alright. You can ask,” she sighs, but it sounds more wistful than defeated. “I’m only curious, you really don’t need to tell me about it if you don’t want to.” Aloy gives him the smallest smile and shakes her head. “ It’s not that, it’s just… until recently, everybody I ’ve ever met knew why I was cast out. It’s strange to have to talk about it. And I guess it was nice being known for something else.” She shrugs, eyes turning back to the flames. “Hey,” he says to get her attention, draw her eyes away from the fire and to his, because he needs her to know that he is serious, for once. “ If you don’t want to tell me, that is okay. I was just curious. It’s up to you. But I promise, whatever you tell me… Well, I’ve already told you what I think about the Nora and their shunning practices. You’re not an outcast to me. I promise, you’ll… just be Aloy. And if you never want to talk about any of it, that’s fine, too. Just tell me to, and I’ll never ask again.” Aloy studies him for a moment, a frown on her face, and Erend thinks he’s done it again, talked himself into a dead end. But then she smiles and nods, and starts talking. “No, I was not shunned because my name was not called back. Rost did that for me, and the name was accepted. I was shunned because I am motherless . ” There is no way to miss the bitterness on the last word. His stomach drops, and he wants to say he’s sorry, but Aloy shakes her head. “No, not what you think. My mother did not die in childbirth— at least I don’t think so. I … In the caverns of All-Mother Mountain, there is a metal door. That is where I was found, as a baby. In a place that his forbidden for anyone but the Matriarchs. There was no one to claim me. And having no mother is the greatest crime a Nora can commit.” The bitterness is back, and she’s staring into the flames. “Lansra was convinced I was the child of the Metal Devil, and wanted me killed, but Teersa convinced Jezza I was a blessing by All-Mother. They could not agree, so they came to a compromise: I would be allowed to live, but not among the tribe. They gave me to Rost, and he raised me, but he was sworn to never tell me what he knew of my birth, and oath he kept. All I ever knew was that my crime was having no mother.”The rage Erend feels at that is a sweltering forge-fire between his chest and his stomach, and he ’s glad he’s not going to be returning to the Nora lands any time soon.So Rost was not her father, Erend thinks, and faintly remembers her words at the gates: The man who raised me. Erend is no religious man, but he sends out a prayer of gratitude for the man who had taken her in, glad she had not been completely alone. “That’s horrible,” he says, laying all the empathy he feels for her into his voice, and she gives him a weak smile. Then he shakes his head fiercely. “ I’m glad Teersa talked sense into the others. She seemed the most reasonable, for a Nora. Sorry,” he adds, shooting

her a sheepish look, but Aloy just barks a hard laugh. “Don’t be. You’re right.” “Lansra was the one with the gigantic headdress?” Aloy nods, and Erend gives a theatrical shudder. “ Colder than an anvil on a ruined forge, that one. Wouldn’t even talk to me or the other blasphemous outlanders. Now that I know that story, I’m glad about that. It probably wouldn’t have done any good for Nora-Carja relations if I’d’ve given her a piece of mind about her customs. Avad might’ve had to fire me.” “I’m sure you could’ve talked yourself out of it. You handled the Nora pretty well,” Aloy says with a smile, and his face grows hot again. “Ah, that was just luck,” he says, and before she can answer, before she can remember how he’d made a fool out of himself in front of her right after that incident, he asks: “ So you ran in the Proving to be accepted into the tribe again? Teersa mentioned some of the rules when she was explaining the whole thing to us.” Aloy looks down at her arrows then, fingers idly playing with the fletching. “No. … Maybe. Mostly I did it because the winner gets one wish from the matriarchs.” She falls silent then, but Erend knows her enough by now to confidently piece together what she wanted. “And you wanted to know who your mother was.” She shoots him a glance. “ I wanted answers, yes. Why I was shunned, who my mother was… I wanted them to look at me and justify it. Maybe I wanted to be part of the tribe too, if only to see… But I don’t think it would’ve lasted. I would not have been allowed to talk to Rost, so I was set on breaking the rules the moment I set foot in Mother’s Heart. I doubt I would’ve stayed part of the tribe for long.” “That does sound like you,” he says with a smile he can’t help,” and I don’t think anybody could blame you. I wouldn’t want to be part of the tribe either, after all they’ve done to you.” A small glance at her tells him she’s lost in thought, but relaxed, so he probes, gently: “ But then the Proving was attacked. So now you’re looking for answers elsewhere?” Aloy smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “No, I won. Before the Eclipse attacked, I won. And then… well, I woke up wounded inside All-Mother Mountain, and Teersa showed me where she found me. Told me that I was motherless. And then…, “ she hesitates, and Erend waits patiently, “then they made me a seeker, to go find answers, find the killers. And I left.” There’s something she doesn’t tell him, Erend knows, but he won’t press her. He’s glad that she has shared this much with him. She’s already told him that Rost died to save her, and it’s clear it was during the attack, and he won’t make her remember that. “Well, if anyone can find them, and your answers, it is you,” Erend says, full of confidence. There are still a thousand questions he has for her, but he doesn’t want them if she does not offer. So Erend swallows them, hoping that he’s shown her that if she wants, she can tell him anything, and let’s it go, saying only: “ Thank you for telling me.” Aloy doesn’t meet his eyes, focusing on her arrows for a moment. “Thank you for listening,” she says in a small voice that rips his heart clean in half. “Always,” he tells her, voice thick, and he clears his throat to mask the entirely unbidden intensity . But if her reaction is anything to go by, he will take the embarrassment, if it means she knows she doesn ’t have to carry these things alone. She doesn’t answer, but he thinks there is the slightest pink to her cheeks, although that is probably only the fire playing tricks, and they both fall silent. It’s no uncomfortable silence, more companionable, Aloy fletching her arrows, Erend cleaning his armor with the hot water, the night heavy around them. “What did your parents forge for you?” Erend looks up and finds her studying him, melancholy gone. “ A small knife,” he answers, and pulls it out of it’s sheath at his side. He passes it over to her, lets her study it. The

glyphs of his name are faded, but still readable, and she traces them with her fingers. “It’s customary for boys.” “It’s pretty,” she says, then eyes him again, “ And what did they make for Ersa?” He can see her hesitation in the question, unsure if the topic is welcome or not, and he can see her react when his expression turns dark, but he waves her apology away. “She got a brooch, like most girls.” Aloy’s scowl matches his own, and he grins. “Yeah, naturally, she loved that. Told you you two will get along. You know what she did? Turn the knife around.” She did as he asked, and he could see surprise and then a laugh as she traced the crudely written glyphs, spelling out his sisters name. “When she was ten, she got into a pretty bad argument with our father of wanting her own knife. He turned her down, harshly, like he was used to do. So I offered her mine.” “Isn’t that bad luck?” Aloy asks. “Nah, we’re not that superstitious. Besides, she engraved my name on her brooch, too.” “Sounds like you are close,” she says with a soft voice as she hands him back the knife. There’s the bile again, rising in his throat, and he fights it down. “Yeah,” he answers, softly, and then adds without thinking: “We had to be.” Aloy looks up and starts to ask him why, but that is a topic he is not ready to think about right now, not as long as Ersa isn’t safe and sound back by his side, so he grins and diverts the subject. “You know, maybe it was bad luck. My father always complained I was too soft, and Ersa too hard. Maybe we mucked it up when we engraved our names on the other ’s gifts.” It’s half a joke, and not that far from the topic before, but Aloy can’t know that. Still, she scowls. “Too soft? Why would he say that? You can hold your own on a battlefield, I’ve seen it, and you helped Avad take back Meridian.” Erend is definitely going red now, and hopes the darkness hides it. “Uh, yes, I can hold my own, but I always liked talking, I was always better than Ersa at being sociable. She was always the warrior out of the two of us. True steel. In comparison to her, I’m soft.” The scowl on Aloy’s face is deep now. “You’re not— that’s not a bad thing,” she says, voice hard and angry. He wonders what he’s done wrong now, until he realizes that Aloy isn’t angry at him, she’s angry for him, and his heart feels like he ’s dropped it straight from the Sun’s Terrace down into the canyon below. He stutters out a thank you, and Aloy looks down at her arrows again with a curd nod, resuming her work, mouth set in a grim line. Erend stops himself from imagining what made her say that, because he realizes that is a dangerous path to take. But the only other thing that comes to mind instead, are memories of his childhood, and thoughts of Ersa, and that is path he doesn’t want to take right now, so he asks Aloy how she wants to handle the next morning. They plan together, and agree that it might take them until mid-day to get the men ready to ride, but Aloy thinks it is worth the delay. They can rest through the heat, then ride a few hours, she says, and then make camp early, because the men will be sore after a couple of hours. “It takes a moment getting used to,” she grins. Erend doesn’t doubt it. Aloy expects them to reach the border of the Carja lands the evening after that, if they make good way, and from there on out they assume it might take them a day more to reach Pitchcliff. Aloy has not been there yet, but it would be two days more on foot, up into the mountains, Erend knows. “It all depends on if we run into trouble of course, but that could happen on foot, too. This way, we might be able to just outrun it,” Aloy says. Erend can’t believe it. Four days instead of seven or eight. “ I’ll get up a little earlier tomorrow and scout the area, find us a herd of Broadheads. We passed Striders before, but I think those might be a bit uncomfortable, especially for Oren,” she says with a

little grin, “ There’s a plateau to the east of here where I’ve had luck before. Might take me an hour or two to get back here.” “Should I come with you?” “No, I’m—” she starts, but he waves his hand. “Faster alone, I know,” he grins. “ Still, if you’re not back after breakfast, we’ll come look for you, okay?” He sees her want to argue, but she seems to bite it down. “I’ll leave a trail.”Satisfied and a little surprised, he nods. “ You should go to sleep then. Our shift is almost over anyways, and if you’re going to get up earlier, you should get the sleep now.” Aloy hesitates, but again, she surprises him and rises. “ Tell them to wake me an hour before dawn,” she says as she gathers her arrows and armor and stows them away. Before she heads to her tent, she looks down at him, uncertain. Whatever she wants to say, she seems to decide against it. She gives him a small smile, and wishes him a good night before she slips into her tent. Erend let’s out a huff and rubs his face. If he didn’t know better, this whole situation would feel like a big, cosmic joke. He spends the next half an hour drinking more tea, desperately trying not to think too much. Eventually, he pulls out the knife, studying the clumsy glyphs spelling Ersa . A wave of sadness rushes over him, but Erend shoulders it and forbids himself to grieve. Nothing is set in steel yet. She ’s survived worse before. And this time, she has him. Not just him, but Aloy, too, and that gives him more hope than he dares to feel. I ’m coming, Ersa. Just hold on. Erend grits his teeth and slips the knife back into its sheath. As he downs the rest of his tea, he gets up to wake Andrik and Beren. As they take their place at the fire, he instructs them to tell Karan he shall wake Aloy an hour before dawn. They ask him why, but he dodges their questions, too tired, and the grin Beren has on his face as he starts to ask a questions dies as he sees Erend ’s face. It’s what he appreciates about them; as much as they love to rile him up and rib each other, they all know when to stop. When he’s finally in his tent, body tired and mind running with thoughts of Ersa, their childhood, and more than occasionally, Aloy, Erend finally sinks into sleep.

Notes:Um. Hi. It sure has been a year, huh? Sorry for the long wait. This fic is not abandoned however, and never will be, even if I am awful at updating. Thank you to all who are still here, welcome to all that are new. Kudos and comments are always much much appreciated and give me incentive to write more!

[jealousmaude]

Stories with Strangers

Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x OC (sorta)

Prompt: Ezra makes up an heroic story about losing his arm in order to impress a pretty lady at the local watering hole

A/N: The above prompt was given to me by @ifalltheyearwereplayingholidays​ when I was bored and wanted to write something. It was meant to be a short drabble but my hand slipped and whoops it’s 3.9k words. Only my second Prospect fic and Ezra talks A LOT. I hope I did him justice. I’m always down to talk about Ezra more, feel free to drop me a line!

Warnings: None I think. A bit of vaguely described gore?

Tagged: @lalablue0​ Thanks for the gentle nudging and encouragement as always

When Ezra walked into the bar he knew he’d picked the right one. He was in a fringe city, on a fringe planet, looking for fringe work. It usually paid the best. But tonight he was just looking for a quiet drink in a dive bar where no one would look twice at him. And this was that bar. A dark and dirty bar with dark and dirty patrons. There were two men hunched over a table talking conspiratorially who looked up at him when he entered, but quickly went back to their hushed conversation when they deemed him no threat. There was a man lounging in a booth with two women he had no doubt paid to fawn over him. Another booth housed a couple of thugs surrounded by an excessive amount of empty bottles and glasses, having an animated and at times violent conversation. At the end of the bar was another working girl chatting up a depressed man who seemed far more interested in his drink than the girl, but she was determined. The shabbily dressed barman was leaning against the bench behind the bar, cleaning a beer glass with a filthy rag in the most stereotypical barman fashion ever, while ogling the young woman.

This was the right place indeed.

Ezra smiled to himself and approached the bar. The barman heaved himself upright, clunked the glass down, tossed the rag beside it and ambled over to Ezra as if it was most inconvenient of him to want service. 

“Amber. Top shelf. Neat." He knew in a place like this the alcohol wasn’t going to be of the highest quality so he figured he’d improve his chances of something drinkable if he aimed high. The barman grunted in acknowledgement and hauled himself around. He reached up to the highest shelf of bottles, revealing his unsightly underarm stains. He took a bottle of dark amber liquid, sloshed it into a smudged glass and plonked it unceremoniously in front of Ezra. 

“You’re a prince among men,” Ezra said with barely concealed sarcasm as he tossed some credits on the bar. The barman grunted again as he collected the payment and returned to wiping not very clean glasses with not very clean rags.

Drink in hand, he turned to survey the bar again. He enjoyed people watching. The longer you observed a person for the better you got at judging their behaviour. That came in handy in Ezra’s line of work. And if he couldn’t quietly watch them, then he would talk as much as he could to them. At them, it usually ended up being. He could tell a lot about people based on how they responded to his stories and that helped him down the line when he needed to know who he could trust if - or when - things went south.

Out of the corner of his eye something bright caught his attention. He turned to see a woman sitting at the end of the bar by herself. She had a shock of bright red curly hair covered by a hood, which would explain why Ezra had missed her on his way in, but that now stood out like a neon sign. She had a drink and a book open in front of her. He watched her reading for a moment and while she appeared to not want, or need, company, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk to someone who may have an interesting story to tell. He had lost count of the days since he had conversed meaningfully with another person.

He approached her and sat at the other angle of the bar next to her. Her eyes flicked up to him for a second, then back to her book. 

“Forgive the intrusion, but you have piqued my curiosity by reading a book at a bar when there are so many interesting beings here to observe. I must know what it is that is so engrossing.” Not his best opening line, but he’s used worse.

The woman slowly raised her head to meet Ezra’s eyes. She studied him for a moment, her eyes wandering down to his right shoulder, then back up to his face. Ezra was used to people being distracted by the missing limb. It usually got surreptitious, side-ways glances. More often than not, it was left unaddressed. Which suited him just fine. Recounting the story was not something he enjoyed doing. 

The woman continued to gaze at him, as if she was waiting for him to continue. He cleared his throat, “my name is Ezra,” he said and pressed his hand to his chest by way of introduction, hoping it would spur the woman on to talk. She didn’t, though she looked thoughtful, as if she was carefully considering her response. After a moment's further silence, Ezra decided she was a lost cause and moved to excuse himself. “I have clearly interrupted you, I’ll leave you to your book.” He went to stand when the woman spoke:

“I’ll tell you my name… if you tell me how you lost your arm.” she said plainly.

Ezra tried to hide how taken aback he was. But her candid approach was refreshing and he felt compelled to tell her… almost…

“Oooooh, this is a story of great heroics on my part,” he said gesturing to his missing arm. “Many people are alive today thanks to my heroic actions.”

A small smile played on her lips and she leaned forward with interest. “A story of heroics? I would never have guessed!” Ezra noted the sarcasm but continued nonetheless.

“Indeed. Though I try to stay humble, of course.” He might as well go all in and play up to the woman’s expectations. 

She huffed out a small laugh, humouring him. “Of course.”

“I was on Kapria-1, a dull little planet with no culture to speak of but spectacular deposits of an ore that is highly sought after in the outer systems. Terribly valuable stuff due in no small part to it being a tough bastard of a thing to extract. Time consuming, complicated and requiring specialty tools that are themselves, complicated to use. But the rewards far outweigh the tedious chore of obtaining it.” He paused for effect and to see if the woman would refute any of his story so far. She didn’t. He continued.

“The only other thing Kapria-1 is known for is the wildlife. Namely, a vicious creature called a Fanger.”

“A Fanger?” She replied, not bothering to hide her utter disbelief. 

“A Fanger,” Ezra confirmed in all seriousness. He wasn’t proud of the name he’d just made up, but he was thinking on the fly and went with the first name that came to him, regardless of how ridiculous it sounded. But he was committed to this story now so continued unabated. “Like I said, they are vicious. The locals call them hell-hounds. On all fours they stand as tall as a man’s shoulders. Eyes that burn bright red and a mouth full of the sharpest teeth you’ve ever seen. A beast not to be reckoned with. They will attack anything in their sights and tear a man limb from limb in seconds. However, they are nocturnal creatures, so provided you are sheltered safely and securely after dark they should be no cause for concern."

Despite herself, the woman seemed genuinely engrossed in the story now. As Ezra paused again she took a sip of her drink and said "I gather the next part involves you getting stranded out after dark." 

"You anticipate correctly!" 

"Go on then," she said encouragingly. 

"Well. I found myself working with a fairly green group of diggers. Had only done a few rotations on the planet previously, but they were an enthusiastic lot. Our time keeper misjudged how long we were in the tunnels for and when we emerged we were just in time to see the sun sinking below the horizon. We argued about whether it would be best to stay in the tunnels for the night, or risk the journey back to camp. Nights of Kapria are cold and we had no provisions. And despite the tunnels running deep, there was nothing to prevent a determined Fanger from sniffing us out. So it was decided we would make the journey back to safety. We had no weapons to speak of, but armed ourselves with the heaviest and sharpest tools we had at our disposal. I chose a small but hefty pickaxe. We took off with as much haste as we could muster, trying to keep quiet and not draw attention to ourselves. But the beasts have aural and olfactory capabilities that far eclipse our own, so it was only a matter of time. Just as our camp came into sight, we heard it. A distinctive snarl that stopped us in our tracks. Before we could even run we saw it looming. A giant figure stalked towards us, jaws slung with bloody slaver, eyes lit by the fires of Hades’ eternal damned Kingdom. It picked up pace and we knew we had no chance of outrunning it so I did the only thing I could do; I ran directly at it. If I could take its attention myself then maybe the rest of my crew could escape.” 

Ezra felt a twinge of guilt at this point. He’d never done anything so selfless in all his life! It hardly mattered at this point, as he neared the end of his outlandish story. The woman, for her part, appeared genuinely interested in the story now. Which was not entirely surprising, Ezra knew he had skill when telling a story, no matter how unbelievable. Still. Her hand still rested on her open book, marking her place as though she was not entirely committed to this conversation, and was ready to return to reading as soon as she tired of his outrageous claims. She raised an expectant eyebrow, “...And?”

“Well it worked. The beast lunged at me and sunk its fangs right into my arm as I tried to shield myself. It pinned me to the ground with one of it’s massive paws, claws digging into my flesh. In a vain effort to save myself I smashed the pickaxe into the side of it’s head as hard as I could. I kept hitting it, over and over, all the while I could feel it’s teeth shredding my flesh and bone. I must have made some impact because it decided I wasn’t worth the trouble of a head injury and bounded away into the night. The rest of my team dragged me the short distance back to camp, but my arm was too damaged to save. Luckily we had a few members with medic experience and, with our limited supplies, they managed to remove the damaged limb and patch me up. Not the prettiest job, but it did the trick, and I owe my life to them. I hitched a ride off the planet the next day and never looked back.” He downed what drink remained in his glass, punctuating the end of his story. He was quietly rather proud of spinning such fine fiction on the fly.

“Well. That is an impressive tale of bravery and loss.” The woman remarked.

“And I believe it has earned your name.”

A sly smile appeared on her lips. “Holly Golightly, pleased to meet you.”

Ezra tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Now I may be just a floater from the Fringes, but I have read a book or two in my time and I know when I’m given a name taken straight from the pages of classic literature.”

She smiled more broadly. “Fake stories get you fake names, Ezra. If you’d care to tell me the real story, you might earn yourself my real name.” As if to signify her seriousness, she closed her book and folded her hands on it, awaiting his response.

Ezra considered for a moment. He didn’t particularly enjoy thinking about the events that led to losing his arm, let alone telling the tale to a stranger in a bar. But the woman intrigued him with her flame red hair and her forthright questions and he was curious to get to know more about her. Starting with her name. He signalled the barman and jiggled his empty glass at him indicating a refill was desired. He’d need more alcohol for this. They both waited in patient silence while the barman sloshed more amber liquid into his glass. When Ezra had taken a large gulp, he was ready.

“I was on Bakhroma Green,” he started. The woman sucked a breath in through her teeth. If people knew of it, they knew it was a dangerous place. Not just because of the toxic spores, but because the people who typically made the journey there these days were desperate and toxic themselves. She clearly knew of the moon’s reputation so Ezra did not need to go into details. “While the rush was over long ago, I figured I’d try my luck, see what was still left down there. If you’re lucky, it’s worth the risk of a visit. Unfortunately, owing to a dispute with my crew, I was left crewless, shipless and stranded. My only hope of getting off that rock was to find passage with another crew. Unfortunately there aren’t a lot of other harvesters willing to make space. Lotta trust issues. A case of Aurelac can make a man do desperate things. I thought my luck had run out, but then I stumbled across a father and his teenage daughter. I’ve never seen a girl so young down there. When I couldn’t bargain my way on to their pod, we struck a deal. The man was on his way to meet some mercenaries who claimed they’d found the Queen’s Lair - a most sought after, yet hitherto undiscovered deposit of the gem. Regrettably, greed got the better of him before we reached our destination and he attempted to relieve me of my own hard-earned case. A firefight ensued, leaving him and my partner dead, and his daughter fleeing back to their pod. I figured the girl was still my best hope of getting off the planet so I set out to find her. I eventually caught up with her, only to find her pod incapacitated and smoking and when I attempted to breach the entrance, I took a thrower bolt to the shoulder. She was feisty, I’ll give her that…” 

Ezra smiled and the memory of his and Cee’s first meeting. While at the time he was in pain and exasperated with her, he admired her tenacity and cool-headed negotiation skills. He’d never seen a girl in the green at all, but he’d never met a girl like Cee, period. The woman’s expression had changed from one of mild amusement to genuine interest. She waited intently for Ezra to continue, her brow knitted slightly in concentration. 

“She gave me a field kit to patch up my shoulder and we got to finding a mutually beneficial agreement to get us both off the moon. She could have taken me out then and there as recompense for my hand in her father’s death, but fortunately for me, she concluded I was her best bet at getting off the planet alive. We reached an accord wherein she would lead me to the mercenaries, and I would act as harvester in order for us to bargain our way onto their ship. Seemed a straightforward enough plan. However after walking for some time, it became apparent the toxic dust had made its way into my shoulder wound causing it to suppurate. By chance, we stumbled across a lone Sater who led us to his camp. We didn’t have much to trade, and Sater are notoriously difficult to deal with, but I didn’t have much choice; I could feel infection taking hold. I offered what little we had in exchange for medical supplies to treat my wound, but they had other plans. Their leader offered medical supplies and a great deal of Aurelac… in exchange for the girl.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes wide. She was genuinely invested in the story now. "So what did you do?" she asked in awe. 

"Well, I knew that no matter how much Aurelac I had, if I couldn't get off that planet, I'd have no chance to make use of its value. And since the girl was my only way to find the mercs and my last shot at getting on a ship, I couldn't make that deal. The idea of what those religious zealots would do to her made my stomach turn. As I was buying time to come up with a counter offer, my young friend made other plans. She took off running as quick as she could. She was fast enough that she was out of sight before they managed to catch her. I cannot fault her for her actions though. She had no reason to believe I wouldn't sell her out. To her I was just a thief and a murderer using her to get a ride home. In truth, I was growing quite fond of her and had no intentions of allowing harm to befall her. Without her though, I was useless to the Sater and they ejected me from their camp with nothing. I staggered through the thick forest of the planet, filter spent, arm septic and painful, until I came to an abandoned prospecting camp. With what little supplies that were left I attempted to excise the infected flesh, but I only made it worse. My options were two: die painfully and slowly as the infection spread, or amputate the affected limb before it got into my blood.” 

The woman now looked somewhat horrified. Her eyes moved down to his shoulder again, then back up to his eyes. Mixed in with the horror was something else: pity. Another reason Ezra didn’t like telling the story, or even talking about it, really. People ended up feeling sorry for him and he hated it. An heroic story of sacrificing his arm to a giant, fanged beast in order to save his crew garnered him much less pity, even if it was obviously a fabrication. But there it was in her eyes, unmistakable. “So… how did you do it?” she asked, with some trepidation.

“I knew I could not manage it on my own, so in desperation I put a call out on the radio hoping that someone in the vicinity would hear me. I cycled through all the channels just hoping I would reach anyone, as risky as it was to broadcast my location in a place where most people's intentions are justifiably self-preservatory. Just as I began to lose hope, I heard someone approach. Weak as I was, I waited by the door of the tent to surprise them should I judge them dangerous at first glance. The tent unzipped and a blaster poked through first, which I grabbed before tugging it’s owner into the tent and shoving them to the floor. You cannot imagine my surprise when I saw who it was: the young girl. Filter spent and near starving. I had no idea if she would help; she still had no reason to trust me, though when she asked if I would have left her to the Sater I told her truthfully I would not have. She must have believed me because she agreed to help. With nothing but a syrette of anaesthetic for me and a small e-scalpel for her, she got the job done. Didn’t wince, didn’t flinch. Cool, calm and collected, the whole time.” He shook his head and smiled, remembering just how levelheaded Cee had been. He’d been so impressed. “I, on the other hand, was a babbling mess.” He chuckled. 

The woman held up a hand to interject. “Do you mean to tell me that a teenage girl cut off your arm in a dirty tent with only a scalpel and a single injection of pain relief?”

“That is the truth, yes.”

“Well, first of all, this story is way more interesting than some tale of beasts and heroics!”

Ezra chuckled. He knew it was, but that didn’t ease his discomfort in telling it. The woman shook her head in astonishment. “So… what happened? Did you find the mercs? Did you find the Aurelac deposit??”

Ezra nodded. “We did. We finally located them and after some hard bargaining we secured passage on their ship in return for harvesting the Aurelac they’d found. It was indeed a bountiful site.” Ezra knew he was seriously skipping over some details of the final part of the story, but she had asked how he had lost his arm, not about the scar on his chest, that still, to this day, ached in the cold. He rubbed at the scar absently as he thought about the last, few, horrifying events on the moon before they finally escaped. This woman did not need to know that he couldn’t harvest one-handed. That they had had to resort to shooting their way out. That he had received a stab wound to the chest and then used a scalpel to the throat in bloody retaliation. That he had watched Cee run into the darkness after he insisted she get off the moon while she still could, only to have her return to him and save his life. Again. The sadness and relief he felt when he saw her and she sprayed his wound with the cream and helped him to the ship. No. She didn’t need to know these details. They were for Ezra alone.

As it was, the woman’s mouth hung open in awe. “And… what happened to the girl?”

Ezra downed the last of his drink and smiled sadly. He missed Cee. He had grown accustomed to her presence in his life and enjoyed being her guardian, as surprised as he was by this. The woman took this response to mean the worst.

“Kevva, I’m so sorry, I--”

Ezra shook his head adamantly and held up his hand, “no, no. She’s fine. She attends a boarding school back in Central. Brightest in her year. We exchange correspondence every week, her missives filled with stories and details of her life and school, far more interesting and colourful than the stories I’ve told tonight. I think she’ll publish a book before she’s even graduated.” He couldn’t hide how proud he was of her.

The woman smiled and it was the first genuine smile Ezra had seen from her all night. It lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle. Eyes that were now filled not with pity, or doubt as they had earlier, but with understanding and kindness. She held out her left hand to better shake his. “Ezra, I’m Ida.” 

Ezra took her hand. “Ida. It is a pleasure to meet you. Now, do you have any harrowing tales you would like to recount in return?”

She let out a loud laugh and tossed her head back, her flaming hair swishing under her hood. “Let’s have another drink and see where the night takes us.” She flagged down the barman.

Ezra figured that if he thought about it, there was a lesson to be learned here about the benefits that honesty and discomfort brings, but for now he was happy just to enjoy Ida’s company a while longer.

[charlotteu]

⟨ SON CHAEYOUNG. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, CHARLOTTE TAM is actually a descendent of H E P H A E S T U S it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY TWO year old CIVIL ENGINEERING/BUSINESS MAJOR from SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite PRECISE & TENSE.

heyheyhey girls gays & they’s. my og’s remember charlotte and how deeply i love her also the looming promise that i’d bring her back. and here are we so ✌️ if any of you don’t know, i’m dakota, i’m nineteen (19), i live in cst, and i’m a part time barista along with a full time political science major. i’ll have some vague wanted connections at the bottom of this but my dm’s are always open both on here and on discord @ wet ass politics#6969

trigger warnings: death

full name & nicknames :

charlotte chunhwa tam / lottie & lola

major :

civil engineering & business

sexuality :

lesbian

gender idenitity / pronouns :

cis - female / she/her

age / birthday :

twenty - three, december tenth, nineteen - ninety - eight

zodiac :

sagittarius

personality :

charlotte is known to find literal scraps of anything and manage to make something gorgeous from it - whether it’s food, metal scraps, or a nearly - ruined picnic table - it’s a skill that she takes great pride in. she constantly tries to bring her loved ones together in one form or another, which results in quite a lot of last - minute plans and “family dinners.” because of these two traits, if someone just happened to forget to plan a birthday party or a baby shower and needed it thrown together within a day or two (maybe that is on her bucket list, maybe not,) charlotte is your perfect person. regardless of this, charlotte is still considered that friend that never has their life together and has an extensional crises every few weeks. family wise, their relationship with their siblings is something that they take very seriously. even the ones that give her stress acne are still very much able to feel the affection and love she’s has for her family. she constantly checks in on all of her siblings and regularly makes an effort to be as involved in their lives as possible.

when it comes to school work, charlotte is perfectly organized. a well - planned and well - filled out academic calendar is always in her backpack and she has a few dozen notifications on both her phone and her laptop to remind her of class assignments. she is well - known at the tutoring center for her near constant sessions to ensure to that she is totally, a hundred percent getting the assignment. her math classes is where she thrives, and she has a record of taking several math classes during the summertime to further her knowledge. charlotte’s known for the immense pride that she takes in her work along with the very long academia career that they wish to have.

myers - briggs, vice, & virtue :

entp, temperance, & distrusting

hobbies :

welding, drawing, sculpting/general crafting, trivia games, meditation, going into nature & finding animals, 

powers :

sensing faults in metal ores, technokenesis, and pyrokinesis. charlotte considers her technokenesis powers to be the stronger of her abilities now that she’s taken the time to work on it since her break. she uses it to help both students and professors on campus deal with their I.T issues and to make small devices to help her friends in their way to help with their daily life. she plans to use her sensing abilities to help with her career choice later on in life, so she continues to work on improving them to help later on. with honesty, she doesn’t use pyrokinesis beyond helping her forge things or as a cute party trick. they have very few plans to ever venture beyond the walls of a protected area ever again so her ability to control whatever flames she makes under pressure is virtually nonexistent.

backstory :

         tam chaewon, aged thirty, had just finished her blacksmith apprenticeship abroad in the netherlands when she decides to go to a bar to celebrate with some friends before trying to find a job when she’s approached by a man claiming to overhear her accomplishment. eager to talk about her future, the two of them end up talking for three hours about it along with the various paths open for her to take. maybe it’s the willingness to sit and listen to her or maybe it’s the legitimacy in his interest that drew her in, but the two ended up spending the night together; they spend only two days together before he leaves with an address for chaewon to write to him if it’s needed. and she does, approximately two months later when she learns she’s pregnant with a baby girl. he writes back nothing but an apology, money to help with the expenses, along with a separate letter to give to the child when she turned ten. 

(trigger warning in the paragraph: death specifically during child birth.)         fast forward through a tornado of eight months and chaewon is visiting her parents when charlotte was born prematurely in seoul, south korea in chaewon’s childhood bathroom. there’s a complication with both chaewon and charlotte shortly the birth and the paramedics sped through the streets to pick up the two, doing their best to keep the two of them alive during the ride. the woman’s family races behind them in the family car, barely able to find the room the two are in to see the nurses rush ahead of them. (no one can tell charlotte what the complication is, but her mom stays alive for an gruesome day and a half, straddling the border between life and death. she’s declared dead on december eleventh at 12:18 pm, 1998.) legend has it that silence ran through the waiting room that the family was in, an unearthly wail leaving charlotte’s grandmother as she realizes what she had to pay to receive her granddaughter. no one wants to touch the child, let alone raise her. their family is faced with a choice when they’re handed the death certificate of their daughter, the birth certificate of their granddaughter, and their granddaughter herself.

           her uncle is the one that ends up taking her in that day. the oldest sibling to her mother by six years, he had been an entrepreneur bachelor his entire life up until that point. so it’s whiplash, to say the least, to completely upheave his life in seoul and move to the small town of parga, greece to raise charlotte. the transition period between being a bachelor to a single father is hard, but he does his best to not give up on it. along side the lack of support from his family, it makes it all such a draining process. when she turns six, her uncle hires the first person to help the family: a highly recommended local nanny by the name of phoebe who would stay with the tam family until charlotte turned eighteen. it’s around this time that her uncle begins to drift away more, trying to keep his business on track, but he always comes back with an elaborate apology and an equally elaborate gift for charlotte to make up for the digression. 

          when she turns twelve, she starts to develop ... slightly unusual powers that always came as a shock but were immediately chalked up to scarily accurate guesses. it’s a fun party trick she uses at classroom gatherings, guessing where faults where in desks, trying to figure out what was wrong with technology, etc. and it didn’t go much beyond that for a very long time. it’s a rainy summer day when her uncle sits her down with a strange man who explains to the both of them that she’s a ... demigod. it takes a whole afternoon to convince charlotte of this fact while her uncle looks at her like a monster. she promptly declines any move to go to a camp (much to her uncle’s dismay) and the next six years of her life is promptly laid out. a life lived in a private plane, tucked away from the world to live out of a few suitcases and bought time from others.

          this quiet life sealed away from the outside world leaves her doing whatever she can to keep busy. building whatever she can, trying to stay as occupied as much as she can. it results in a suitcase full of little trinkets by the time she’s six months into home schooling. the next few years of her life pass her by in a terrible haze as she does everything she can to catch up to the life that has been set out for her. her life begins to slow down when she gets into college at the age of nineteen, where she finally finds a safe haven amongst people like her. however, at the beginning of 2020, charlotte finds herself catching deep feelings for one EILILDH GALBRAITH. a fiery, vibrant, and resistant spirit immediately draws charlotte into deep feelings for her. the relationship happens for several months before the relationship comes to an abrupt halt in the end of october. unable to come to terms with her first major breakup, charlotte cites a personal, family matter to switch to online classes before coming back to in person at the end of finals shortly before the evacuation. 

wanted connections :

DREAMLAND / a v simple plot with room for extreme nuance! someone that charlotte can help bounce ideas off of and vise versa. enable each other’s terrible ideas but do it with much love and a camera on hand at all times. ( 0/2 spots taken )

HIT DIFFERENT / some type of fun flirtatious relationship. maybe they’re just friends, maybe they’re party buddies (for the rare parties that she goes to,) or maybe they just happen to keep meeting. hopefully it’s very relaxed on both ends. ( 0/1 spots taken, must be afab )

ALWAYS GOLDEN / best friends, ride or die type shit. can we get some friend group for it tho because i always love a good group dynamic ( 0/5 spots taken )

I DIDN’T FALL / some kind of missed love, like those missed connections on craiglist. maybe the two of them grew close during charlotte’s time away from university or maybe they almost dated before charlotte was out, either way there’s still some mixed feelings of resentment for not making a move, the deathly “what if’s?”, and mayhaps some feelings that still linger. ( 0/1 spots taken, must be afab )

SPORTS / someone who helped navigate charlotte through her own experience of coming out and how that fits into her cultural identity along and her career field. i have a decent idea of her coming out process but i’m definitely flexible with it ( 0/1 spots taken )

[pi-creates]

So I’ve been happily watching @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale stream through games recently, and she has decided to try one of my favourite Telltale games - Tales From the Borderlands. But since CJ isn’t familiar with the Borderlands games (and from the sounds of things, neither are some people in the chat) I’ve put together a very basic bit of background information from what I know (I also haven’t played everything from after TFTB’s release). 

It isn’t necessary to know any of this to enjoy TFTB as it gives a brief, ‘bare-bones’ introduction, but I figured it might help some people who like having that extra bit of depth going in without having to play through the other games. 

There won’t be spoilers for the TFTB plot, obviously, but the bottom section under the ‘read more’ will list characters from the main series who are mentioned/appear in the game and relevant information that someone familiar with the series should already know about them. But if you are familiar with the series and don’t want to know who may or may not show up (or would just rather go in blind to who is a ‘returning’ character) - stop reading at the Notable characters segment. 

[Spoilers for the Borderlands series below here]

For starters, Borderlands is set in the distant future – there are ways to ‘digistruct’ weapons and vehicles at the press of a button, you can walk up to a vending machine and instantly change your appearance, there are advanced cybernetics, robots are normal, you can have personal shields, teleportation is technically possible for both weaponry (notably grenades) and people, and there are guns that shoot electricity/fire/corrosive ammunition.

The goal of every Borderlands game revolves around the idea of opening a Vault – an ancient archway of Eridian origins (just think of long-extinct aliens) that is filled with treasures, hostile guardian entities, and also a very big, pissed off vault monster who will attempt to destroy anyone/anything that tries to get inside. The people who take the risk of searching for a vault and the treasures inside are labelled as Vault Hunters. In the core games, this would be you.

The problem is that finding a vault is hard since they are hidden, and they are often locked with artefact keys that trigger them to unlock. This means that the location of a vault, a vault key, or any signs of Eridian tech is VERY highly valued. Most of the games therefore revolve around the planet of Pandora since it has a high concentration of Eridian ruins which leads prospecting vault hunters to assume there must be more vaults to find on the planet.

Pandora, though, is more than a little inhospitable. The environment is mostly barren or wildly extreme, the wildlife is often very aggressive and deadly, and the people tend to be very rough since they have to deal with all of that. The planet itself doesn’t offer many prospects beyond weapon manufacturing, research, resource mining, and banditry. It has, however, previously been home to large corporations who tried to exploit said resources and attempted to ‘civilise’ the locals who would rather tell those corporations to piss off with the booming end of a shotgun. There is also a significant portion of the population who teeter really close to insanity on a daily basis. That is normal for them.

All of the attempts to settle and gather resources from Pandora has led to literal rubbish heaps, abandoned colonisation attempts, manufacturing/research zones that are often not friendly, bandit shanty towns, toxic chemical zones (from corporations running unethical experimentation) and SO many roaming bandits. Naturally, the locals don’t take kindly to anyone who works for the bigger corporations as they expect to be screwed over or exploited in some way.

For people familiar with the series, the timeline for Tales from the Borderlands is set after Borderlands 2 and before the Fight For Sanctuary DLC.

For people unfamiliar, you need to know that Pandora has recently dealt with the Handsome Jack problem. Basically, the handsome Hyperion CEO was set on wiping out all bandits and dangerous wildlife from Pandora. The problem was that Jack had a very low opinion of vault hunters, bandits, and pretty much everyone on Pandora as he believed they all fell in to those categories. 

The player’s introduction to Jack literally comes from him inviting vault hunters to Pandora, only for him to then blow up the transport in transit. You are lucky enough to survive where most others died. Jack himself then contacts you to say that you aren’t following his plan to kill all the vault hunters and “if you could just do me a favour and off yourself, that’d be great. Thanks, pumpkin.“

At the start of Borderlands 2 you will hear of Jack’s rather unethical and violent methods of dealing with people who aren’t on board with his plan – all while having a rather cheerful manner of speaking, almost as if he was enjoying playing the game with you as his opponent. He actually keeps in contact with the vault hunters throughout the game to casually chat with them, and occasionally yell at them if they aren’t playing along with him.

He plotted to open a vault on Pandora that held a very powerful monster called the Warrior. He was going to harness the Warrior’s powers to enact his wide-scale extermination plans. On the journey to stop his plans the vault hunters end up killing Jack’s daughter, Angel, as she was being used to ‘charge’ the vault key. Angel herself led the vault hunters to her location in the hopes that they would stop her father’s plans, much to Jack’s disapproval. He stops being cheerful at this point and doubles-down on wanting to raze all of Pandora to the ground.

He does successfully open the vault and the vault hunters have to defeat the Warrior before Jack can use it. The vault hunters win and Jack is killed for his crimes against Pandora. His final speech before dying in Borderlands 2 was very cool – including it here as it sums up his thought process really well. It has also lead to some interesting interpretations of Jack’s overall character.

"No, no, no... I can't die like this... Not when I'm so close... And not at the hands of a filthy bandit! I could have saved this planet! I could have actually restored order! And I wasn't supposed to die by the hands... of a CHILD KILLING PSYCHOPATH!! You're a savage! You're a maniac, you are a bandit, AND I AM THE GODDAMN HERO!!

"The Warrior was practically a god! How- How in the HELL have you killed my Warrior?!

"You idiots! The Warrior could have brought peace to this planet! No more dangerous creatures, no more bandits, Pandora-it would have been a PARADISE!!"

Naturally, since all of this drama happened not long ago, the citizens of Pandora are very much still on edge in regards to anyone who works for the bigger corporations – Hyperion especially.

Definitions to some things you are likely to see/hear about in TFTB –

Eridium – An ore-like resource associated with the vaults. It glows purple and is supposedly exceptionally rare in most of the universe – but not Pandora. This is what most of the manufacturing companies want since it can be harnessed to create highly effective tech/weapons.

Catch-A-Ride – The service that Scooter (a mechanic on Pandora) uses to digistruct vehicles out of Catch-A-Ride stations.  

ECHOs / ECHOnet – Essentially your mobile phone with internet and an app that lets you check everything in your backpack with a holographic display.

The Crimson Raiders – More or less the resistance fighters of Pandora who kept the citizens protected during the fighting of the main games. Run by the original vault hunters and still active in keeping Pandora free of outside threats.

Atlas – A technology and weapon corporation that was the first to make an earnest attempt to colonise Pandora after they suspected it would hold a vault. Was known as one of the best in terms of quality. They have since gone out of business.

Hyperion – The main corporation you will be dealing with. Has a particularly bad reputation on Pandora due to their former CEO, Handsome Jack, attempting to wipe out every bandit community on Pandora. Under Jack’s rule a lot of experiments were also run testing Eridium and Eridium by-products on people and animals – resulting in death, mutation, and insanity to most subjects.

Helios – Hyperion’s orbital station that can constantly be seen orbiting between Pandora and its moon. The station itself is shaped like a giant ‘H’ and houses a concentrated weapon that can shoot massive ammunition at targeted areas on Pandora. The weapon can also be used to shoot transport containers from the orbital station down to Pandora’s surface.

Elpis – Pandora’s moon. Visibly cracked open due to excessive mining. Everyone from here is VERY Aussie and it’s a little weird...

Notable characters you may meet/need to know about –

Marcus – Your narrator – he also narrated the intros and endings to the other games. You won’t see him, but it’s a nice tie in to the format of the main series.

Sirens – Essentially these ladies are magic. They are all born normal, but they will suddenly change and inherit their siren powers when another siren dies. They stand out by their glowing, tattoo-like markings that mysteriously appear on them when they awaken their siren abilities. Not much is known about them other than they can interact with Eridian based materials, and that they are excessively powerful since they have magic abilities.

Claptrap (CL4P-TP) – A class of unicycle robot that is very annoying. Doesn’t shut up, but is technically a vault hunter. You may or may not run in to him.

Angel / (Guardian Angel) – A siren who had the ability to interface with technology. She is the daughter of Handsome Jack and spent most of her life hidden in a secured bunker that only her father could enter via a DNA lock and voice password (her father saying “I love you”). This is due to Jack becoming extremely protective after bandits tried to abduct Angel upon realising she was a siren, and after Angel unintentionally killed her own mother with her powers. Due to her siren powers, she had the ability to stay in constant communication with anyone outside of the bunker, and to help her father with any tasks he required. Was killed by the vault hunters in Borderlands 2.

Handsome Jack – Antagonist from Borderlands 2 and previously the CEO of Hyperion. Has a mask of his face fastened over his actual face which was scarred by an Eridian artefact on Elpis. Starting out as a programmer, he worked his way up the ladder in Hyperion with Angel’s help through a mix of (initially) well intentioned plans to help the people of Elpis, and a growing obsession with power and hatred for Pandora and its bandits. He eventually strangled his boss and named himself President and CEO of the company.

Professor Nakayama – Had a massive crush on Handsome Jack in Borderlands 2. Smart guy who was devastated by Handsome Jack’s death and was working on a way to find the best successor to Jack to run Hyperion. He was attempting to clone Jack from old medical data (taken somewhere before the start of Borderlands 2′s plot) before the vault hunter’s confronted him and he literally dies from falling down a flight of stairs. Easiest boss battle ever.

Shade – DEFINITELY NOT INSANE. Somehow lived alone in a town in the middle of a desert with no water - and this definitely didn’t effect him mentally at all. He just wants a friend.

Scooter – Pandora’s best mechanic. Nice guy and actually a little more normal than a lot of other Pandorans. Has girl troubles, not that he’d ever admit it.

Ellie – Scooter’s sister. Also a mechanic, much to her mother’s displeasure.

Moxxi – Mother of Scooter and Ellie – runs a bar, slot machines, and previously a battle arena (The Underdome). Pretty much seen as Pandora’s Pin-Up, which she seems happy about since it has garnered her significant influence and power on Pandora. She speaks in pure innuendo.

Janey – Elpis’ best mechanic, focusing more on vehicles that work in low (or no) gravity. Runs an equivalent of Catch-A-Ride on Elpis. Girlfriend of Athena.

Athena – Vault hunter who was hired by Jack to help with the Vault on Elpis. Had a falling out with Jack after dealing with the Elpis situation, as this is where Jack was clearly starting to lose his stability. She notably fights with a shield that she can throw and return to her hand. Previously an Atlas employed assassin who turned against the company after Atlas tricked her into assassinating a target that was very important to her. Girlfriend of Janey.

Zer0 – Vault hunter who found a Pandoran vault and was involved in killing Handsome Jack. Another assassin who fights with a sword and is capable of making hologram decoys of himself. He likes to display holograms in front of his helmet to communicate since you cannot see his facial expressions. He’s an alien / who always speaks in haiku / with some exceptions.

Brick – Vault hunter from the first game. He is a berserker who punches VERY hard, but is a softy at heart.

Mordecai – Vault hunter from the first game. Sniper and sharpshooter, doesn’t need a scope to get a good headshot.

Lilith – Vault hunter from the first game. Siren who leads The Crimson raiders along with Brick and Mordecai.

Loader Bots – Hyperion made bots that are used for security and manual labour. They are big, they can speak, and they are very sturdy. Weirdly enough, they have the capacity to become self-aware (though self-aware models are often destroyed by Hyperion if discovered).

Psychos – A particular class of bandit that is always shirtless, dressed in orange pants, masked, and they all speak complete gibberish. They have some consistencies to their gibberish including an obsession with meat and salt.

Butt Stallion – Handsome Jack’s diamond Pony – Jack lovingly named her after the vault hunters at the start of Borderlands 2. She eats Eridium and poops guns... I wish I was kidding.

[captainscanadian]

Stay | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Prologue)

My Masterlist

Summary: Your best friend is marrying your older brother and the question is whether your other friends would show up. Steve’s was easy to track down. But Bucky, not so much...

Word Count: 1800+

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tamilian!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x OMC Arjun Y/L/N

Warnings: MINIMAL TAMIL DIALOGUE (I’m more than happy to translate!) & TAMIL CULTURE , References to Hinduism, Mild Swearing

A/N:This is my entry for @bucky-smiles​‘s 2K Bollywood Writing Challenge! This challenge got me so excited because I wanted to show off my culture in my writing! My prompt was to write a Bucky fic inspired by my all time favorite Bollywood movie - Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani! Y’all should go watch it because it’s fucking amazing! But I decided to write this fic with a Tamilian reader because I am Tamilian. I was born in Sri Lanka. But I know that there are a few other Tamilian friends on this site who would love to read this. @jalapenobarnes​ & @fafulous​, THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, MY CHELLANGALA! Also, all my fellow Desi Marvel stans are more than welcome to read this fic and spread the love! <3

Natasha Romanoff had ever been the most “feminine” or “lady-like” or a “girly-girl” like most people had wanted her to be. She had never fit into society’s per-conceived notion that a woman must be a certain way. Born in Russia, she had moved to America when she had been six years of age. Fitting in had never been easy for her. For starters, it had taken her years’ worth of sessions with a dialect coach and tons of practice to be rid of her Russian accent. Eventually, when managed to get her English language skills in check, not many of the kids she went to school with were willing to take a chance on her friendship, except for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

During her teenage years, she was the most rebellious kid in all of Brooklyn. A tomboy, they called her, with her short red hair, ripped skinny jeans, leather jackets, tattoos and piercings. Oh she had it all! She had spent most of her time skateboarding around Williamsburg and sneaking into the local art shows with her two best friends. But things had changed so much since then.

She was a grown woman now, well into her thirties. Her short red hair had grown down to her midriff. Her nose piercing had closed up years ago, the tattoos on her back barely visible to anyone anymore. The ripped jeans and leather jackets had been replaced by pencil skirts and pantsuits. Natasha had not expected to be a rather popular artist in New York, with her own studio in her hometown and her masterpieces selling for millions of dollars.

Perhaps, the most shocking thing about Nat’s life was not her physical transformation or the way she had realized her dreams of becoming a successful artist. It was how she had fallen in love with a certain Arjun Y/L/N. Born in Russia and raised in Brooklyn, she never would have expected to be marrying into Tamilian family. Yet, love did not know or care about one’s ethnicity or culture. She loved him and he loved her, so now they were getting married.  

A month from today, she would be Mrs. Y/L/N. But for now, she was spending her last few days as Miss. Romanoff handwriting her wedding invitations to her loved ones. She never would have thought that she would have a traditional Hindu wedding; it had been her idea ever since Arjun had proposed. After all, she did have a wonderful relationship with his family and she felt honored to be a part of that. Embracing the culture that her man had grown up with had been the best part of getting married. She had always been a part of the family.

The wedding preparations were well under way now. While it was meant to be the bride’s family who was meant to take care of most of the expenses for the multiple ceremonies and rituals, your family had let go of such traditional notions for the sake of this union. The bride and groom were making an equal financial contribution to the wedding, a mutual decision between the two of them.

“Amma?” Natasha called out to your mother, who had been busy preparing some sweet treats that were meant to go along with the invitations. “Did Y/N tell you what time she gets out of work? She was supposed to be here an hour ago to help me out with the rest of the invitations.”

Your mother drained the last batch of jalebi’s from the frying pan before drenching them in the sugar syrup. She turned off the stove and wiped her hands with a tea towel, walking over to the dining table where her daughter-in-law-to-be had been sitting for the last hour. “You know how she is. She never gets out of work on time and when I ask her why, she gives you a speech about how she worked so hard to become a doctor for the sake of her family and that we should not be complaining about how much she works.”

Nat let out a chuckle as she set down her pen. “You’d think that she would have taken some time off from work to help out with the wedding. It is her brother’s wedding and I am her best friend, aren’t I?”

Before your mother could respond to that, she heard the sound of your car pulling up in the driveway. “And there she is!”

Hopping out of your car, you ran your hand through your partially went hair. Having gotten out of work later than you had expected, you had rushed back to your apartment to shower. You had not bothered with drying your hair, as you had been in a hurry. “Amma!” You called out to your mother as you used your key to unlock the door and entered, kicking off your shoes and making your way down to the living room. “Amma, where are you?”

“In here, Y/N!” Natasha called out to you as she picked up her pen and another invitation, looking down at her list of people whom she still had to invite to the wedding.

You skipped over to the kitchen. “Amma!” You exclaimed as you pulled your mother into a hug, placing a kiss on her cheek before giving her your best pouty lips. “Amma, ore oru strong cup of coffee, please? I just got out of work and I’m so tired. Please?”

Your mother gave you a playful eye roll. “Sit down; I’ll bring you a cup of coffee.”

“You’re a good Amma!” You gave her a nod as you walked over to the table, hugging Natasha from behind. “Anni!”

“That is something I can definitely get used to.” She chuckled, softly. “You are such a spoiled brat and you know that, right?”

“Perks of being the youngest in the family, I guess.” You admitted with a shrug of your shoulders, pulling up the chair across from Nat and sitting down. “Amma, is there any tiffin? I’m hungry!” You called out towards the kitchen, earning an eye roll from your sister-in-law-to-be.

“Don’t expect me to spoil the shit out of you when you come over to your brother and I’s.” She joked.

“What? Are we really setting the ground rules now?” You asked her with an eyebrow raised, giggling softly as you eyed the stack of envelopes that she had already labeled in calligraphy. You picked up the one on top, seeing the name ‘Steven Rogers’ written in cursive. “Did Steve say anything about coming to the wedding? The last I heard, he fired the head chef at his restaurant and he’s looking for a new one. I think he has a lot going on now, ever since that food critic gave him a poor rating and tanked his business.”

“Oh no, he’s been saying how busy he is. But if he doesn’t show up, I’m planning on getting my ass to Manhattan and dragging him over to the temple myself.”

You let out a laugh as you shook your head. Those two really were the best of friends. You, Natasha and Steve had attended the same high school together. Of course, you had not been such close friends back then. But Steve and Natasha had been best friends since middle school. They had practically been inseparable for as long as you’ve known them.

While you had only been friends with Natasha since your second year of undergrad, you had known her long before. You had become the least unlikely pair of friends – the rebellious Russian girl and the studious Tamilian nerd. You owed it all to that one ski trip to The Hamptons a little over twelve years ago, for bringing the two of you together. Now she was marrying your older brother and becoming a part of your family.

“Oh shit, I screwed this up!” Natasha groaned as she crossed out one of the names that she had just transcribed onto an envelope, tossing it aside before picking up a new one to fix her mistake.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you reached across the table to grab the envelope that she had jut discarded, seeing his crossed out name written in black ink.

Bucky.

“J-A-M-E-S...” Natasha spelled out his name as she wrote it neatly across the envelope. “B-U-C-H-A-N-A-N. BARNES. There!” Picking up an invitation and slipping it into the envelope, she sealed it with a lick and set it on top of her finished stack of envelopes. “Thank you for helping me with writing these invitations, Y/N.” She remarked, sarcastically. “Now we need to pack up the sweet treats and mail them out!”

You gave her a nod. “We’ll do that first thing in the morning.”

Once your brother got home from work, the four of you enjoyed a well-deserved family meal together. After a hard day’s work, it was something that you very much needed. Even though you had moved out of your childhood home once you had graduated from Columbia Medical School, you had been a frequent visitor ever since. As your mother lived alone once you had fled the nest, you made sure to keep her company during her lonely nights. With the wedding preparations, it seemed more convenient to be at the house more often. While Arjun and Natasha were staying over, you tend to pop by every now and then to take on the role of your sister-in-law-to-be’s Maid of Honor and help out with some of the wedding planning.

After dinner, your brother had retreated to his old bedroom to attend an important phone call from work. As Nat and your mother shared the task of doing dishes and packing up the sweets that your mother had prepared, you found yourself lurking under the bed in your childhood bedroom. You retrieved a little cardboard box that you had been keeping hidden for years now. This box was filled with so many memories from your childhood and teenage years – from your high school yearbook to the Polaroid photos that you had taken during your trip to The Hamptons.

You flipped through the yearbook to see the photos of you and your friends – Y/N Y/L/N, Natasha Romanoff, Steven Rogers and James Barnes. Bucky. There was always something special about him, the way he lit up every room he had walked into. Bucky was the loudest voice in the room, the life of the party. He was the nerd with the camera, consumed by his wanderlust. He was a man of everyone’s dreams, with dreams of his own that he was chasing all the way to the other side of the world. Bucky. Where ever in the world he was right now, nobody loved to go on an adventure like him. Twelve years it had been since you had first fallen in love with him.

[angelsarts]

I'm sorry to be a bother but, could we have a new anime list? I don't mind if it involves the animes on the original list!

O-K!! I will friendo!

1. My hero Academia! - adventure, superhero

Born without special powers in a world where 80% of the population has them, Izuku Midoriya still dreams of becoming a hero. An unexpected encounter with the legendary hero All Might gives him a chance to change his fate, but first he must master his newly-acquired Quirk in order to pass U.A.’s entrance exam.

2. Ore Monogatari! - Romantic comedy

With his muscular build and tall stature, Takeo Gouda is not exactly your average high school freshman. However, behind his intimidating appearance hides a heart of gold, and he is considered a hero by the boys for his courage and chivalry. Unfortunately, these traits do not help much with his love life. As if his looks are not enough to scare the opposite sex away, Takeo’s cool and handsome best friend and constant companion Makoto Sunakawa easily steals the hearts of the female students—including every girl Takeo has ever liked.

When Takeo gallantly saves cute and angelic Rinko Yamato from being molested, he falls in love with her instantly, but suspects that she might be interested in Sunakawa. With his own love for Yamato continuing to bloom, Takeo unselfishly decides to act as her cupid, even as he yearns for his own love story.

3. Gakuen babysitter - Comedy-drama, Slice of life, School story

After their parents are killed in a plane crash, Ryuuichi and his younger brother Kotarou are taken in by Youko Morinomiya, the stern chairman of an elite academy whose son and daughter-in-law died in the same accident. The Chairman makes it clear that in exchange for being their legal guardians, Ryuuichi must work outside of class hours at the school’s daycare, where Kotarou will stay during the day.

The series tells the story of the daycare children’s antics as well as how the two brothers adapt to their new lives.

4. Fruits basket - comedy romance slice of life

After her mother’s death, Tohru Honda finds herself living with the Sohma family consisting of three cousins: Yuki, the ‘prince charming’ of their high school, Kyo the hot headed, short tempered outcast, and Shigure the mischievous novelist, if not sometimes that of a pervert. Tohru finds out the Sohma family secret that when a member is hugged by the opposite gender or they are tired out, they turn into the 12 animals of the Chinese zodiac. Filled with many lovable character and many plot twists along the way, life at the Sohma house will never be the same again.

5. Say I love you - pure shoujo

Friends will only let you down—that is the sad truth Mei Tachibana lives with, ever since she was wrongfully blamed for the death of a class pet by her so-called friends in grade school. Since then, she stays away from people in order to avoid ever being hurt again. However, Mei’s life begins to change drastically when a misunderstanding in high school causes her to encounter popular student Yamato Kurosawa.

Yamato finds her intriguing and insists on being her friend, even though Mei wants nothing to do with him. But when a dangerous situation ends with Yamato kissing Mei to save her from the unwanted attention of a stalker, Mei begins to develop feelings for him. On the heels of her discovery that their feelings are mutual, they start dating and she gains not only a boyfriend, but friends as well. Mei, however, finds it very hard to adapt to this new lifestyle, especially in expressing her true feelings towards Yamato.

6. Yuri on ice - sports

After a disgrace in the Grand Prix Final, Japanese figure skater Katsuki Yuri seeks to retire. Victor Nikiforov, Russian world champion in figure skating is known for his surprises but is feeling stuck when he realises he has no more surprises left. When Yuri dances to Victor’s most famous routine 'Stay Close to Me’ the video is posted online and is seen by Victor. In this moment the Russian world champion decides to move to Japan and become Yuri’s coach. Over the course of various competitions, the two form a powerful bond and see that each other was all they needed to accomplish what both had hoped for.

7.  Kyou kara maou - comedy, fantasy adventure with a hint of gayness

Kyou kara Maou! revolves around Yuri Shibuya, your average Japanese teenager. One day, Yuri sees a classmate being harassed by bullies. Thanks to this intervention, his friend is able to escape, but unfortunately Yuri becomes the new target of the bullies in the process and gets his head shoved into a toilet. But instead of water, the toilet contains a swirling portal that sucks him into another world, largely resembling medieval Europe. There, he is told that he will become the next Demon King due to his black hair and black eyes, traits only possessed by the demon’s royal lineage.Yuri’s arrival is met with some skepticism by some of the demons, who view him as unworthy to be their king. However, after Yuri wins a duel by utilizing his magical powers, the demons slowly begin to acknowledge him as their monarch. Yuri must now learn what it takes be a true Demon King, as he tries to keep the peace between demons and humans in this strange new realm.

8. Princess Jellyfish -  comedy romance

Ever since her late mother took her to an aquarium when she was young, Tsukimi Kurashita has been obsessed with jellyfish, comparing their flowing tentacles to a princess’s white dress. Now living with five other unemployed otaku women, 19-year-old Tsukimi spends her days as a social outcast dreaming of becoming an illustrator.

However, her life changes forever when one day, a beautiful woman unexpectedly helps her save a jellyfish in a local pet store. From then on, the stranger—confident, fashionable, and the complete opposite of Tsukimi and her roommates—begins to regularly visit the girls’ building. This trendy hipster, though appearing shallow at first, harbours some secrets of her own, starting with the fact that “she” isn’t really a girl at all, but a wealthy male college student named Kuranosuke Koibuchi!

9. Fullmetal Alchemist - adventure, sci fi, dark fantasy

The Elric brothers’ mother is dead and their father has long since abandoned them. Deciding to perform a forbidden human transmutation to bring their mother back, they end up losing their bodies. Now Edward must join the military in order to gain certain alchemical privileges, with his one goal being to restore his brother to his original state. But with war on the horizon it’s only a matter of time before they are both forced to question their morals and ultimately decide the value of human life.

10. The world god only knows - comedy romance

Keima Katsuragi prefers immersing himself in the 2D world, chasing digital girlfriends. However, after answering a mysterious email he finds himself bound by a contract helping the demon Elsie capture 'lost souls’ from the underworld. He must now win over these real-life ladies in order to fill the void in their hearts which these souls have entered, releasing the souls and allowing for their capture. Also to further motivate, if he does not perform this 'duty’ a collar around his neck will explode.

[x0401x]

Music Voice Interview with Jin

Who Jin is and what his real motives were for not yielding his continuous self-questioning during these five and a half years.

The merch creator Jin, who is a musician and a novelist, released the latest album of Kagerou Project, “Mekakucity Reload”, after about five and a half years. Kagerou Project is a complex series which, in addition to the lyrics and tunes that Jin produces, is also a combined work that has multilaterally portrayed its world-building, with the stories pictured in the musical compositions that Jin himself wrote being used as material. In this scene, it gathered great repercussion, and was also turned into animation.

Ever since the second album “Mekakucity Records”, in order for Jin to look into himself, there had been no releases of CDs with his name. The reason was that he could not bring himself to lie to the fans while being at a loss. During this period, Jin had been asking himself questions such as, “What am I?” and, “What’s the music I want to be making?”. It is said that the grasping of their answers was his trigger to write actively.

Amidst this, he uploaded the video of Shissou Word on YouTube at the end of 2017. Jin felt the response to that song. It can also be said that this work is an ambitious one, which loudly proclaims the resumption of his musical activities. However, why did he decide to turn back towards composing at such a timing?

This work is overflowing with Jin’s confidence, to the point he can say, “I want to think of it as the beginning of the five and a half years that it took to make this series”. What kind of feelings have been put into it? And what was this period for him? We have asked him about the true meaning of it all.

Translations Index >>

He can’t tell lies.

――It’s been over five years and six months until this work; what was the reason for you not to release any works in this meantime?

I was 19 back when I first submitted a musical composition using VOCALOID to NicoNico Douga. That was Kagerou Project. From then on it felt like I rushed my way through the next two or three years, publishing several pieces until the point where I was able to make the second album (Mekakucity Records, which went on sale in May 2013). For this, the fact I was blessed with a workplace that makes music together with me was also a big deal.

Still, human beings change in the process of leading their lives while making their own stuff, so I started thinking like, “I wanna try creating things more like this”. That also meant I was no longer musically compatible with the people that had been making stuff together with me. I think a certain something is right, and they, my partners and the people around them, think that something else is right.

This doesn’t mean that either side is wrong, just that what we deem as “correct” differed. Even in the middle of this, they would ask me, “Isn’t it better for you to be making (compositions)?” and, of course, I did feel like making them. But if I were to go along with that in order to produce them, I thought they would end up turning into lies.

The listeners are sensitive to this kind of thing, like, they’re not tricked that easily, so to say; I even now think that their hears won’t be so moved and they won’t be so touched by something I make in hesitation. I strongly felt back then that there isn’t much meaning in creating things like these.

So I thought that, firstly, I had to take time in order to find my own lifestyle and a means to get to know the way that many people think while producing stuff, until I could create something that would give me a good feeling and that I could puff out my chest and say, “This is the best of best” to those who would take it in their hands. Still, I didn’t think that I wouldn’t release it until five and a half years later (laughs).

In the end, this kind of sentiment in particular is strong in Kagerou Project after these five years and six months. The people who listen to it are younger than me, and children listen to it too. That’s why I really can’t lie as long as these kids are listening to it with pure intentions. I couldn’t bring myself to write songs that go like, “I’m having fun!” when I actually think, “I’m having a hard time”. I want to create honest works from these occasional feelings and my thoughts of “I wanna make this thing”.

But, although I didn’t release albums during this period, I did write the tracks of the anime and the like. In the middle of this, a few years ago, there was actually a time when a change happened within me in a certain sense, in which my desire that “this is the only thing I won’t yield about” solidified; furthermore, there were people that had me like, “I wanna make music with them”, so I’d found myself in situations where I started thinking that I wanted to try creating works with my name together with them.

I’ve been treading these five years and six months with care, so to say, rather than taking shortcuts. I came to think that I could create something good, and so I made this album.

――About your wish to make a work in which you could be honest with yourself, you also mentioned something that you “wouldn’t yield”. What exactly would it be?

In these five and a half years, my feelings changed. For example, while I used to think that I wanted to be famous, I also wanted to be praised by experts. Like, I wanted to get compliments from prominent music critics, and I wanted a load of views; there was a time when I was thinking about that stuff. But looking back, I wonder what use this period had to me. Anyhow, I even then believed that something remained the same, so to speak; that I should have in me at least one thing which I wouldn’t lose no matter what.

When I realized this, something changed. Also, in the past, I too often had the thought that losing to anyone was frustrating, but all of it vanished as well. What was left were things like, “I wanna keep making stuff that I won’t regret”. Like, “I don’t wanna tell lies”. There are people who say they enjoy the two albums I’d made before, but there’s also a side of me borne from half-heartedness that’s like, “But is it really okay the way it is?”. I believe this is positive, and when people say my stuff is good, I do think that it’s a precious world, but...

Whenever I was told that “it’s because this is the standard” or that “it’s because this is how music pieces are”, no matter what... I found myself thinking that if it went on, I couldn’t keep up.

As of late, it’s not like I don’t want to lose to anyone, or that I want to become famous, and I have no desire to be praised whatsoever; I just feel like the fact that I’m emotional, that only something similar to thinking, “I must definitely convey this to you right now”, is richly visible  within me. This is why I thought I could make the album.

The theme “I want to say this to you” is precisely what’s prominent in the songs we’ve recorded this time. It’s the third one, and although that’s obvious, it’s my first time making three albums. Of course, I don’t know whether or not that was the right thing to do. But we had a lot of feedback, and it made my thoughts regarding the albums sparkle a little more.

Currently, there’s two of these songs uploaded, and when I see the reactions and all, it has me going, “I sure am being supported”; just like this, I was able to make clear the distance between other people and myself, as well as something akin to my goal in striking people with my stuff, and I was able to think of wanting to create an album through that, so this is my motivation now, and that’s the kind of album I deem the third one to be.

――It is also said that you were able to look back at it through the series being turned into anime in 2014. What you just talked about has a connection with this, right?

I think that’s precisely it.

The light novels acted as a trigger for him to take a new step.

――Meaning that you decided to leave the music aside for once and headed to the direction of pouring your strength into the novels. Through this, the song compositions also changed.

I made lots of attempts at experimenting during that time, so to say. Regarding the novel, back when the anime ended, the people around me commented, “You seem to be bad at this” about the way I wrote the story, and even I myself thought so too. About whether I can write stories... I’m doing my best at writing, but that wasn’t being conveyed to others. That’s why I began to wonder what exactly being told “you’re great at this” by people was.

But it wasn’t like I wanted to become great in the first place, either. For starters, the matters concerning my writing caught my attention before the music did. That’s why, after the anime was over, it felt like I was somewhat reeling about while trusting my senses. But it also felt like I was actually worrying. So I was like, “Then, let’s try to write the novels first”. I thought this was unmistakably going to turn into some sort of discovery, which would definitely be a big deal for the way I express myself through text, because, since this world only exists inside me, if I could convey something to someone with it, it would certainly become a thing of value for myself. Guess I had the feeling that the novel was always the axis during these three years...

I read many books, saw many people’s way of expressing themselves, and while writing the novels, many people told me that it “made them cry” and the like. On the other hand, I was also told stuff like, “the writing isn’t interesting” and, “the story is fun, though”, so it was chaos. I didn’t have a definite answer, so I began to think of all sorts of things.

From this, there was the song “Shissou Word”, which we uploaded at the end of 2017, and when I thought of writing the lyrics to it, unlike the way I had come up with themes until that moment, the theme came to me in a raw ore-like condition in that it had a proper focus. An incredible motivational power like, “I want to convey this” through the lyrics was already properly present before I made them. From that point, I managed to create the melody and composition, and I became capable of using strong words when writing the lyrics. It felt like I’d become able to write lyrics that I could say loud and clearly. If you ask me why I wrote the novels, I’d say it wasn’t exactly something calculated.

――So a change in your perception of creation happened through the novels. You also said that, from writing these novels, you also became able to reduce the number of words in the lyrics.

I sure was. In light novels, the word count is huge. You have to write down the directions too. I’m also in charge of the manga’s original story and the like, but I don’t give directions in those. I just write the dialogues. When it comes to lyrics, it already becomes even more abstract whether it’s dialogues or scene depictions, and the lines get blurry.

I wonder if it’s all about the vividness of the focus. I think lyrics are meant to go from vivid to faint. Still, the lyrics are in Japanese, so by the moment that something incredibly vivid comes to light, I isolate the blurry parts and, with few words, I have people enjoy the sentences and also enjoy them myself in a sensorial way, rather than in a rational or emotional one. I believe I became capable of doing that.

I think this is actually because I had the novels. I kneaded it as much as I could and, through pondering over how I should convey the story or what I should do about its mechanisms, the circumstance where I was able to use words and sing freely turned into a coil spring for me. I could certainly see from various different points of view. Either just around the time when I had finished this song or right before I started it, the answer to those questions appeared.

――About the novels you’ve published up to now, do you write the stories already envisioning the ending from the get-go?

That’s right. There was a scene that had me like, “I wanna end it here”. But there are many patterns. When I tried writing the novel as it is, things turned out the way they did far beyond my imagination. When you first attempt writing, doesn’t the story move forward from that one viewpoint? Back at the stage of planning the plot, I thought of doing it a certain way, but I’d be like, “Humans don’t think these things”. For example, in scenes where people aren’t getting along, I’m like, “The mood will darken if they say this kind of stuff, so won’t they be on bad terms?” and since that’s the type of friendship I’m writing about, I change the story here and there.

If I were to say it, the theme is more important than the beginning and the end. Like “how I want the reader to view this character” and “what I want them to reflect on”. I hold autograph sessions and the like, and whenever a small child comes towards me, I think along the lines of, “I wanna talk to this kid more”, but I’m not in that position, so I believe what I can do is to convey the things I must – in other words, the themes. I think they’re the most vivid ones.

This is an era in which music is at people’s reach.

――I feel that music is becoming a combined form of art. There are lyrics, sound and images. Promotion videos have existed since the past, but I believe the things that spawned from NicoNico Douga – as in “covers” (utatte mita) and “Vocalo” (VOCALOID) played a large role in tying it together even more. What do you think about this?

Indeed, I do think that music is present in many moments. For example, when I’m watching an animation, I deem the songs and OSTs, even the music just playing normally in the background while the acting is going on, as extremely complex, and I think this is unmistakenly the instant in which the music manifests an effect. Of course, songs paired to videos and MV culture have existed since long ago in NicoNico Douga, but when young children started wanting to watch MVs instead of listening to CDs, that field was specially strong in it, myself included. It was a time when they were like, “I wanna go to live concerts” and, “I wanna see this in an MV”. If you say music is becoming composite, I also think so.

――I think videos take shape because they are displayed, but music can’t take a shape. I have the feeling you are somewhat challenging that.

The new song I previously uploaded also doesn’t get into your head if there’s only words, like, “Are there really people like this?”. When something is inserted in a song, you have the feeling that it’s being drilled into you, so to say; songs have this sort of efficacy, but it’s not like this is elucidated by them. They merely turn out like that because I planned and made them that way. It’s no short amount of fun for me as well when people have some kind of reaction to them.

Indeed, it doesn’t last; music is ephemeral, so to speak... For example, I think paintings and the like are awesome. If you show someone a painting, it takes only an instant. Not even a second later and people are already like, “I’m moved” and, “This is wonderful!”. Music has to be performed when you have an opportunity to play any sort of sound, with equipment and within a time limit, so it takes a bit of work. It’s not something that exists concretely, so you have to reproduce it. I think that, on the other hand, there’s an amusing aspect to music because of this, but there’s also a difficult one.

Aren’t we able to listen to songs just fine with earphones and the like thanks to the viralization of smartphones? I believe this is an era in which it’s become incredibly easy to listen to music. That now is a time in which music is close to people. From now onward, since there are people who present many different types of music and ways of associating with each other, several other types will be generated on their own accord. I also want to keep on doing that and having fun with it.

The keyword is “friends”. || His obsession with sound.

――What kind of work is the latest one that you made in this meantime?

It’s a work that has “friends” as its keyword. I think it’s an album that includes something like my thoughts regarding my own friends. Even though I say “friends”, it’s not “friends who are my age”, but “vs. adults”, “vs. my past self”, “vs. the person I like” and such. It’s an album in which I’ve inserted my thoughts about people who are the opposite of me. Of course, there are also songs that are easy to grasp, like, “Is the friend who I used to play with doing fine right now?” and there are also lyrics in which I fret over being unable to comprehend my sense of distance regarding others.

These five and a half years were really hard ones in my life, and I believe they were a period in which I’ve changed. Like, I was completely betrayed by someone I had a lot of faith on back when I was making the first album. In contrast, I thought I had been the one who ended up betraying them instead. I thought human beings were extremely complicated. What scaried me the most was that there was no malice to it. It’s a moment in which the other person probably isn’t the bad guy and neither am I; something like that. There’s a moment in which one human being and another can’t become happy with the sense of distance between them no matter what, and I think that’s exactly why I had a painful time and was troubled over it, so I believe this is a fitting theme for the current album.

Kagerou Project itself is a series that endorses friends and not being alone. Even now, I think this is right, but since no one can live on their own, they’re always worrying about someone else, and I believe that continuously coming up with answers through always taking action is most likely what life is about, so I also want to say this to the kids listening to my stuff.

This time, and also during that five-and-a-half-year period, I fretted a lot. Like, “Can I really live on with others?” and such. There was a point in which I thought this would be difficult, so I felt that this was also a theme and wrote about it.

――About the fact that the songs included in it are have a relation with your past works, is it because you feel like each story is linked through something that fits their thematic nature?

That’s right. It feels particularly like they took a two-stage stance. Probably, even people who didn’t know about Kagerou Project will also be emotional to an extent when listening to them. Of course, there’s the fact that one will be able to take something from them just by reading the lyrics too. On the other hand, people who have known the previous works are taking it as good things coming to those who wait. It’s picturesque whether you glance at it or see it with a general view, and I think there are many songs like that.

――The sound does a power-up, doesn’t it? It’s really good.

Thank you very much. I get super happy when I’m complimented on my sound.

――Does your experience with forming bands also have to do with the shape your music has taken now?

I quite have sounds in my head that I deem as the right answers for myself, but I indeed became able to express myself better due to the many experiences I had. Like writing the songs of the anime, or having times to listen to music more carefully. I wanted this sort of time when making the second album too, to tell the truth. This is also my anger venting at the fact that I didn’t even have time to worry about things like, “This one type of method is necessary for me to express a certain sound in my head; all right, let’s do it”. Like, hey, try to take a look at it; the current album has a better sound. I had this kind of ambition, and I’m happy to have been able to deliver it in a way that compelled people to tell me, “It’s really good”.

Rather than calculations or experience, I think my rage was what did it. Back in the day, I think that I had to dispel something I was worrying endlessly about, that I had to prove myself. Otherwise, those five and a half years would have been for naught (laughs). I wouldn’t like it if people ended up thinking, “This isn’t much different from back then”.

When I wondered about why these five and a half years had even begun, I concluded I had to make it into something that would have people thinking, “They began so that he could create this”. That’s the reason for something akin to rage from thinking “why” at the initial moments to be probably residing in my sound.

――The accoustic version is pretty emo, so this “rage” really comes through.

I’m angry (laughs). I’ve been creating stuff with absolute wrath lately.

――There are cases in art where rage can also be a driving force, after all.

Indeed. But even though I’m raging all over the place, it’s not like I’m thinking that I want to defeat anyone. Just as I said earlier, it’s not like anyone is bad, just that our senses of righteousness are different, and I can’t comprehend the distance between other people and myself because of this, so we’re unable to reach a mutual understanding. I really do have a lot of rage directed at this.

No matter how many words I come up with or make up my mind to be careful and do well in my relationships with people, none of that has much meaning. I do think that I’m extremely small before the absolute mechanisms of this world, but I believe music reverberates far more loudly than myself, so I think expectations were created from this and that these songs turned out as being entrusted with all sorts of wishes. In “Shissou Word” and the like, I’m also quite angry. I was really angry when I wrote, “Oddly enough, ‘normal things’ are difficult to achieve in this world”. That’s what I’d wanted to say when I was asked, “Why can’t you do normal things?”. It’s mysterious. People would talk about “normal” as if it were completely natural and be like, “How come it’s hard for you?”. For starters, what is “normal” even? Anyhow, a part of me exploded with rage, but in the end, it was impulsive.

――From the point of view of young ones, it might seem like you are speaking as their representative.

If so, that’d be good. I like THE BACKHORN because I spent a moment in truancy when I was in middle school and listened to them at that time, and turns out they’re a band that says everything I’d wanted to say. There was a song that went like, “This planet will burn down in an explosion”, and it had me thinking, “They’re the best!”. But I neither am THE BACKHORN nor am I trying to become them; as of late, I just thought it’d be great if I could do something like that within my own sense of justice, so I developed this sense.

――Thinking of it that way, the musical nature of this work might be very different.

That’s right. It’s indeed different. But it’s an extension of the musical nature of up to this point. I feel it’s moved forward. It’s not like I’ve built the rails because it changed, but it feels as if we’ve arrived to this station through properly piling the rails up. It actually hasn’t changed to me, but I think I might’ve made it into something that’s becoming a different thing.

――Meaning you were able to find out that you’re “a mystery”.

I think I’ve managed to! This really may be what I was most successful at doing in making this album.

――If so, you’re strong. I’m looking forward to now on too.

So am I. My rage is still all over (laughs). There are still things within me that I believe I must say, so I might be able to create good things. In the first place, this album is unmistakenly one that I want everybody to listen to, so I’d be happy if people listen and feel something from it.

――I think the way people understand music depends on each individual, but in the novels, many things are intertwined, so I feel that they showcase a different form of entretainment than what was being presented until now. Regarding the people listening for the first time, is there any way that you would like them to enjoy it?

To the people who are listening to this album, if there’s anyone to whom this album is your entrance to Kagerou Project, and if there was any point that had you moved, or if you thought that you empathize with the lyrics, please do read the novels. If so, you might be able to find a different type of enjoyment in it. The people who didn’t get particularly moved are fine, though. I want those who wish to enjoy music as music to listen to it the way they please. The novels and manga have the same kind of heat, so to say; they’re both things I’ve created while burning up with feelings and reasonings that don’t change from the ones I had when making this album, so the people who have become interested in them might have fun by taking a peek.