#I should probably stop but I'll keep going for as long as there is fuel

[val-of-the-north]

[caffeinatedattorney]

Gilda doesn't get the chance to go out often and have fun at the same time.

Her costume sucks, no doubt about it. It's the sort of thing you put together on a rush so you don't just go on your everyday clothes to your friend's costume party, though, she kind of wishes she had something less shitty that made her unrecognizable, rather than an unfun version of herself. She dressed like Dorothy... or at least she's meant to be. Her dress isn't frilly enough to resemble it and her hair is doesnt look right for pigtails. She probably ressembles an used old barbie doll instead.

She nurses her drink. A mojito because she couldn't think of anything better and motivate herself to pay for it. It eases the headache of the festivities.

This is their day, isn't it?

She manages to find fresh air, walking out of the building where people who want to talk stay. Gilda isn't sure what she wants right now, to be fair.

All she feels is... grief.

This is her fifth halloween without Harvey Dent. Her friends knew she would need emotional support and in fact, attending the party had been Gilda's idea, just to shake things up in terms of distractions.

As she takes another sip of her drink, she hears someone behind her say 'Nice Two Face costume bro!' She rolls her eyes. Sadly, this isn't the first time someone has tried to make a joke about--

"Ma'am"

It's Harvey's voice, rough but his. Gilda turns around and she knows him enough to know he's not trying to be dressed as anything. He is just Two Face. Then again, maybe he believes he is already in costume and his life is a joke. Hilarious.

That said, Gilda finds herself tearing up.

"How are you, Harvey?" Gilda asks quietly, not fully facing him. It seemed like yesterday when she and Harvey attended a party as humpty and dumpty. Harvey always had a fascination with the atmosphere of the holiday, even when he didn't have a chance to celebrate and all days blurred into endless stressful work.

Harvey keeps his distance, she isn't sure if it's for her sake or his. "You look beautiful."

Gilda laughs, she wonders what motivated him to come, or how he found her. "I look terrible."

Harvey offers his hand quietly. He seems at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing without an utterance. The song changes to something slow and something in him shifts.

After a while, he says, "...May I have this dance?"

She wonders if it was part of his plan. She can't keep herself from uttering what she always wanted to express now that she has the chance, right before taking it. "You know i'll always love you, right?"

Harvey gives her a look, apologetic. He squeezes her hand. "Not the entirety of us."

Gilda raises an eyebrow as she guides Harvey inside to the dance floor. "Do I?"

It makes them visibly back off. Ah, so it's Harv. Harv squeezes her hand apologetically. "He said he's sorry."

Before they know it, they're on the dance floor, blending in with the guests. "He's tired," Harv whispers as they start to sway to the music.

After a while, long enough for Gilda to lose herself in the motions despite the grief, he says: "He taught me how you two dance," then he gives her a tight smile, crooked and different. "I'll be tonight's consolation prize."

Gilda feels relieved. On one hand this isn't some self loathing fueled crusade to show Harvey hasn't forgotten about her. That said, she knows how... Harv and Harvey work and how there's no exact time frame Harvey will resurface. Harv should give himself a little credit. In a way, she's being comforted by Harv's hands. He's a familiar stranger.

She grins. "You are doing great. It took Harvey years to learn not to step on my feet."

Harv laughs, like a warm smoky cackle. "He's a dumbass."

Gilda twirls in Harv's hands. "... And you are not a consolation prize."

He hums piercing gaze warm, voice crackly like wood, as they go back to their dancing. "You don't mind me?"

"I don't think we ever talked, and if you need a place to stay--"

Harv stops, he stares at Gilda for a few seconds. He doesn't try to convince her to drop the idea or starts arguing why he doesn't deserve it. In a way, she expects Harv to have his guns on him, ready to shoot anyone who tries Two Face. Ready to protect her.

Instead, Harv smirks. "Lead the way."

One message and two black and white monster movies later, Harv and Gilda have fallen asleep on the couch together. Gilda has changed into her pajamas and Harv into Harvey's old pajamas with the ugliest sweater he could find in Harvey's wardrobe. He loves it, by the way, because it is now his.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Daemon x velaryon warrior reader please

This is set during the war in the Stepstones. Reader is Corlys’s daughter who is a little older than Leanor and Laena

keep sending requests

-

Many knights had shared a laugh when you arrived on dragon’s back alongside your brother Leanor. They thought your father was a fool to allow you to join them in the Stepstones, to fight at their sides. According to them– according to men, you needed a cock – regardless of its size – to partake in wars and battles and they were very insistent about that.

Every time you opened your mouth to share your input on a strategy or offer to go on the warzone, someone would oppose and make a sexist comment, but you were always quick to remind them that a war was fought with swords, arrows and dragons, not genitals.

And Daemon loved every second of it. He marveled at the way you never let anyone walk over you and weren't scared of putting men back in their places.

‘’Woman, leave the strategy to the men and stick to the embroidery,’’ Vaemond sniggered, getting other men to laugh along.

Your blood was boiling. ‘’Are you insinuating that I lack the wit to come up with an attack strategy? I'll have you, uncle, know that the last attack was my idea and we successfully put down a hundred men thanks to my night patrolling. You should know by now, uncle, that knowing your enemy is essential to plan an attack. It lowers the fatalities on our side and you know we need all the men we have left.’’

Vaemond refused to believe you. ‘’Lies!’’ he called. ‘’Leanor came up with the idea.’’

‘’Knowing you would oppose to the idea, I shared it to Leanor and asked him to present it to prove you all that I am capable of coming up with war plans.’’

Before you, Vaemond was speechless and Leanor was looking smug, proud of his sister.

‘’What role have you played in this council, Uncle, other than Master of Complaints?’’ you added to fuel the fire just as a dragon’s shriek was heard over your heads, announcing Daemon returned with Caraxes.

‘’Enough!’’ Lord Corlys barked, breaking the bickering between his brother and daughter. He narrowed his eyes at Vaemond, wishing the older man would just stop belittling you and accept that you were part of the war council. Mayhaps if he did, the other knights would do the same. ‘’Leanor! What are our options?’’

‘’The Crabfeeder created a choke point here, beyond these dunes.’’ Your brother placed the paw on the war map to better explain. ‘’Archers hold the high positions, foot soldiers hold the ground. We’ve strafed them on dragon back again and again, but they just retreat within the caves. Dragons can circle Bloodstone until they fall out of the sky–’’

Leanor’s voice was drowned, your eyes and attention shifting to Daemon as he walked up to the table everyone was reassembled around, having returned from flying over Bloodstone. He removed his gloves and put them on the table, then removed his helmet, revealing sweaty silver hair and fierce braids. You felt a tightening in your stomach from looking at him, the dirt on his face rendering him more attractive in his warrior attire armor.

‘’What’s the report, my prince?’’ a knight asked, waiting expectantly.

‘’The Crabfeeder and his pirates retreated to the caves the moment they saw the dragon,’’ Daemon reported, finding himself at a stalemate. 

‘’We could block the issues of the caves and catch them when they leave? They can only last so long in the caves,’’ one of the Velaryon knight suggested.

You shook your head. ‘’How long would we be standing there for? Hours? Our knights will get tired and the pirates will use it to their advantages to attack. It could end in a bloodbath for us. We cannot afford to lose more soldiers.’’

‘’Besides, the caves go on for miles,’’ Laenor added, supporting your point. ‘’They probably have food and all else they could ever need in the caves. The Crabfeeder and his men have no reason to leave those caves.’’

‘’Then, we must give them one.’’ It was crazy, but you had used up all the sane strategies by now -- and you were running out of time and men. ‘’An offering of flesh to bait the crab.’’

A thick silence installed itself around the table, knowing your strategy would put someone’s life in jeopardy -- and possible death.

‘’Who?’’ your father asked, breaking the silence. 

Vaemond's obnoxious laugh followed. ‘’Which man here will happily go to his death? Show me the knight who will march into that hell pit, niece, and I will show you a madman.’’

Your eyes flickered to the silver haired warrior before you. ‘’Daemon.’’

You would not call Daemon a madmen; he was impulsive and unforgiving, but also a devoted and talented warrior and, unlike some people at the table, he was fighting this war in the Stepstones, swinging Dark Sister and slaying pirates on the grounds. 

‘’Please elaborate, Lady Y/N?’’ the prince said, interested in your idea.

Once again, Vaemond was baffled. ‘’You are willing to let the woman direct us? To drive you to your death?!’’

’’Call me ‘woman’ again, uncle, and I’ll have you fed to my dragon. Silverwing hasn’t had her breakfast yet,’’ you said, your threat not empty. 

The corner of Daemon’s lips curled into a smirk. ‘’Caraxes could use some more meat too, in case anyone agrees with Lord Vaemond.’’

-

Taglist: @taylordaughter  @gillybear17 @liltimmyst @eos-princess   @Kaitieskidmore1 @instabull  

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[autumnalternating]

HI I want to talk about the Keroro platoon mechas because I love how thoughtfully they're made and how they relate to their teams dynamic <3

VERY long post under the cut.

As you can see, the first Keroro mechs combine with Giroro being the bottom right leg, Dororo being bottom left, Kururu being left arm, Tamama being right, and Keroro being the head. This is what Kururu later refers to as Robot #1.

Later, when the mechs been destroyed and Shurara throws a tantrum, the team gets saved by what Kururu has dubbed Robot #2. Notice the changes here. Giroro is now the right arm, Kururu is now the right leg, and Tamama is the left arm.

This change is a big deal!

Your legs control your mobility. These, in a symbolic sense, are who I would imagine "carry" the team, or the rocks of the team, for lack of better words.

With robot #1, the base is Giroro and Dororo. Keroro's oldest friends, people he, in almost only a familiar sense, seems to be able to rely on. While all three seem to care about each other, these two are also most likely to shoot Keroro down.

Giroro because he hates when his plans are poorly crafted, and Dororo for refusing to participate in plans deemed too violent, among other things for both men. In relation to what that says about their characters, it almost implies Dororo and Giroro have to stop Keroro from walking into dumb shit. Very literally stopping him; ie controlling his mobility. In relation to Keroro, he uses their refusal as a reason why their plans never work out, ALSO putting the responsibility onto them as mobility.

With the younger duo, Tamama is, very fittingly, Keroro's right hand. Keroro and Tamama would probably like to believe Tamama is that loyal to him. Tamama gets to fuel his fantasy of being closer to the sergeant, and Keroro gets to have someone look up to him. To feel looked up too, in the very least. Kururu is his left hand, as the person who can make pretty much anything happen. I'm sure to Kururu, it'd also be beneficial to be seen as close to Keroro. They are the most loyal to him, in his eyes. Hands.

Now Robot #2 is built SPECIFICALLY to get them out of trouble. If Robot #1 is to represent how the team as it usually functions, Robot #2 is where they're most functional, or where they need to get.

I'll start out with Tamama. It's just a part of growing up that you learn your heroes are human. (He does this in the manga at least.) This doesn't mean he wants to leave him, though. Shown with him being his left hand instead of his right, it's good not to take everything Keroro says to heart, but that doesn't mean he wants to give up on him.

Giroro is his right hand. He's also the only one who is WHOLLY focused on invasion; the reason they're stuck on this planet in the first place. While they both go back and forth at each other all the time, Giroro would die for Keroro. He's trying to get him on the most fruitful path, even though he's harsh with how he goes about that.

Kururu is his left leg. He does more than the platoon has (willingly) acknowledged. He's pretty fucking needed in the case of invasion as a base, but also, he keeps tabs on everyone. He can track them down, finds and stops dangers before they even get to them. Don't get me wrong though, there's something interesting to consider that he moved further from his captains arms. This could represent everything he's kept hidden from the team.

I could say a million things about Dororo's place, mostly because I find it so like him. He didn't move. I'm not saying everyone should shut Keroro down, but Dororo is almost always in the right when he does it. Yes, he would be in a humans perspective to the invasion, but even with Keroro's feelings in mind he does his best to keep things fair. He doesn't take out his feelings over their past. They're both not perfect to each other of course, but Dororo is right where he needs to be. Which brings me to Keroro.

Keroro is the head. I know I've talked about him in relation to everyone else in this post, but there's a reason why you need to focus on that. How he see's the team and how the team gets along changes it's functionality, and as their leader, he needs to pay attention to both. He's pretty much in charge of both. How they see Keroro, how he allows them to see him, and how he see's them is placed right in front of us.

I could easily be reading into a mech that's clearly designed to be marketable, but I'd like to believe there's more to it than that. It's shows what work Keroro needs to do with his team. Tamama's misplaced idolization, finding understanding with Giroro, getting to know Kururu's everthing, and considering Dororo in general. And when it comes back to Keroro, it shows that his team won't give up on him. They just need to get a little closer.

Four sources, the whole robot change happens in episode 203.

I don't know if this is anything, but it meant enough to me to type this out at 2 am, so I'm posting it. Please let me know what you think and if there are any errors! Also, if this does seem like I'm reading to much into it, just know I will do it again

[goodluckclove]

What keeps me from writing: my own insecurity I guess. I can write random scenes that never go anywhere but I struggle writing complete stories because that's when my stupid goblin brain will hit the breaks and be like: hold on a second, this is nothing like what the writing books say. For some reason I get stupidly hung up on doing things the "right" way (aka what some professional writing person has said). I have to actively, mentally go against it and tell myself to write things the way I feel are right for me. And on the bad days I can't tell anymore if what I just wrote is good or bad because all I can hear in my head is: this not how you're supposed to do it. I like to think I'm getting better at it.

Hi, Lych. I'm so happy to see you. Will you maybe sit down with me for a second? I was trying to get some work done today but I can't stop thinking about this question so I figure something is telling me that it's important.

Let me see your writing books. Give me those blog posts and videos too. Wow, there's a lot here, isn't there? A lot of people seem to consider themselves authorities on writing. Some people who you know are very successful, and others who you've never seen or heard of before. And they all seem to be saying something different, don't they? Or maybe they'll reference each other like they're all strands in some grand dreamcatcher of professional acceptability.

Okay, we've looked at it for long enough. What I have right here is a large bottle of kerosene - you might want to stand back, actually. I'm going to go ahead and start spraying down all these rules and standards until they're nice and rankly damp. It might take a second.

They're wrong, you know. Anyone who gives you a step-by-step guide on any form of art and tells you it's the only way to do it is wrong. Structure isn't bad, per say. If you're a visual artist, it could help to learn traditional anatomy. If you're a filmmaker, you should...I mean, it would help to know how to use a camera. You should know how to use the tools you want to use to some extent, and YouTube tutorials could be pretty useful for that -

You know what? I think the fumes are getting to me. Would you mind helping me out? Here, I have another bottle. Catch.

For some reason there's a very terrible trend of new, unpublished, non-working writers feeling like they need to give advice in absolutes instead of sharing what works for them. There's a strange height of unsubstantiated confidence in people like this that always leaves me kind of befuddled - my example is always a woman I saw online who explained that every story needs a second act twist. That still bothers me.

But it's not really any better with famous and massively successful writers who release books on how to write. Not only does it create the dangerous unspoken narrative that if someone buys the book and follows every step they'll have a carbon-copy career, but I've found that once you write for long enough you forget a lot of the struggles that beginning writers have. I've been writing for fifteen years, and I no longer really remember what it feels like to struggle in a lot of profound ways that many do. I have doubts still. I'll commonly ask myself if what I write is actually any good at all. But it comes up way less often than it used to.

You're doing a really good job. I think that's probably enough fuel.

I think this is more of an issue with those who already have a predisposition for creativity, and by what you've posted on your blog I can see that you're a very skilled and impressive artist already. Your bronze Icarus was especially touching to me, both emotionally and in the sense that I just kind of wish that I could touch it. You express movement in a lot of subtle ways. It's really cool!

Maybe switching to writing feels like starting over. Like you have to get someone's permission before you can just start. Damn, my match broke.

Where was I? Oh, right.

You know how to read, don't you? You've read stories, or had stories read to you? If so, then that's your permission right there. If you make an effort to absorb a variety of stories from different perspectives, as well as engage in the world and people around you, as well as take time for introspection towards your own inner world...well, that's everything you need. From that point on you can go to workshops and get feedback or whatever, but that's not something you really have to worry about yet.

Now that I think about it, you might be better with a matchbook than I am. A sculptor much have steadier hands than someone like me. Ah, there! Fantastic.

You know where to go from here, my friend.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Biden: non compos mentis

Joe Biden Gives an Impromptu Presser, and No One Can Figure Out What He's Talking About

Gives an Impromptu Presser, and No One Can Figure Out What He's Talking About

By Bonchie 6:08 PM on October 18, 2023

CNN

President Joe Biden flew to Israel to meet with PM Benjamin Netanyahu on Wednesday. Whether he should have is another question. 

During a joint appearance, the American president appeared extremely fatigued, almost unable to keep his eyes open at times. He slowly read his notes, head hung low, sometimes barely audible. Things didn't get any better later when Biden decided to tell an already debunked story about being in Israel during the 1967 war. After returning to the podium to speak again, the president then announced $100 million for Gaza, money that will no doubt end up in the hands of Hamas. 

Mercifully, this was a short trip, but Biden wasn't quite done. After boarding Air Force One, he decided to give an impromptu presser. Things did not go well. 

WATCH: Pres. Biden unexpectedly addresses reporters aboard Air Force One pic.twitter.com/CxeiNEcDR3

— Breaking911 (@Breaking911) October 18, 2023

I'd try to transcribe that, but I just don't have the patience. He keeps freezing up, staring blankly for uncomfortably long periods of time, and I have no idea what he is trying to say. In the beginning, he seems to be talking about school shootings but then starts talking about people who have been victimized and are seeking hope. Is he drawing some kind of comparison to the current situation between Israel and Hamas? 

In the background, you can see Secretary of State Antony Blinken looking down at the floor the entire time. I can only imagine what was going through his mind. 

I will give the president credit for one thing, though. This reporter's snotty question probably deserved this response.

"Do you think it was necessary for you to come here?"

BIDEN: "What do you think? I'll let you answer that." pic.twitter.com/c9XvKCeZ70

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

When asked about the Palestinian Islamic Jihad rocket that fell short and struck a hospital parking lot in Gaza, Biden attempted to say the right thing, but he just couldn't quite get it out. Instead, he went to his old mainstay of stopping mid-explanation to say "well, anyway." 

REPORTER: "People ... don't necessarily believe you or the Israelis ... didn't have anything to do with" the Gaza hospital blast

BIDEN: "I can understand that" pic.twitter.com/OgNbm1UpM3

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

Even though the reporter's question was biased, it was a softball ready to be hit out of the park. A competent president would have rattled off the litany of evidence that has been reviewed while citing the U.S. intelligence assessment that it was not Israel. Instead, Biden stumbles with his words, seeming unsure of anything that he's saying. The lack of confidence shown will only fuel conspiracy theories to the point that I'd imagine Israeli officials were thinking "Please stop helping." 

Twice, Karine Jean-Pierre jumped into the middle of Biden's answers, appearing to try to get him to end the press conference.

REPORTER: "You said you were very blunt with the Israelis on the need to get humanitarian aid to Gaza or what exactly?"

BIDEN: "On everything. Ha ha ha" pic.twitter.com/WvCHZ4VVWf

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

REPORTER: "What about getting people out?"

BIDEN: "The answer is we're gonna get people out, but I'm not going into any detail with you now—"

KARINE JEAN-PIERRE: "Alright we gotta wrap up" pic.twitter.com/zlx5eMjqW2

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

Finally, Biden did decide to end things. Unfortunately, he did it at the worst possible moment.

"Are Israelis operating within the rules of war that you talked about last week?"

BIDEN: "Good talking to you all"

*walks away* pic.twitter.com/yVlUN0ljdL

— RNC Research (@RNCResearch) October 18, 2023

If Biden were trying to whip up the pro-Hamas crowd, what would he have done differently in that situation? Once he was asked that question, he needed to answer it immediately and with conviction. To not do so was a gift to those who are attacking Israel with disinformation about how they are propagating their war against Hamas The fact that he chose that moment to walk away is just terrible optics.  

Pay close attention Biden's warning:

Israel will pay a heavy price

I was VERY blunt with Israel

they will be held accountable in ways that may seem unfair

you will lose credibility worldwide

[emjae]

i think i don't hate you ²

diluc x gn!reader

following the acting grandmaster and her girlfriend librarian's talk with y/n about their feelings towards diluc, they decide to act on it tonight. after a few drinks with a few hisses thrown at their friends kaeya and venti, they begin their conversation with the winery owner with a heavy heart.

2.6k words

tw: drinking of alcohol, traumatic past go brr, related to the manga, angsty beginning but it's probably gonna get a whole lot worse in the next chap, pretty wordy; also goes a bit into depth about the feeling of isolation

* reader will be referred to as y/n here, yes diluc makes an appearance yeheyyy

If sounds could have emotions, then the plop your body made as it met the couch was definitely exhausted. You had just come back from the Favonius Headquarters and the walk was boring and tiring, piling unto the hours and hours of work you'd done with Jean and Lisa. Earlier, when you were about to leave, Kaeya stopped you and invited you out to the tavern, which was definitely the last place you wanted to be. Sure, Charles is always the one manning the bar but Diluc always makes unannounced drops and judging from your luck, he'd most likely be there tonight. So, naturally, you declined and did a rain check.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling blankly and thinking about everything your life ever meant (which was to be Diluc's top one struggle, problem, and enemy). He did some pretty bad shit to you after Lord Crepus passed. You gave him what he needed: time, space, and comfort while Diluc gave you the complete opposite.

That's right. Once upon a time, you two were friends—great friends, really. But once someone fucks up that bad, everything you've ever had was tossed into the fire.

Every moment of his eighteenth birthday was vaguely remembered for your head was really foggy and was mostly fueled by a lot of negative emotions. After a few insults here and there, you also recall breaking down and crouching for a healthy five seconds before standing up and telling Diluc how tired you felt. The rest after that, you'd never forget.

"If you're so tired, maybe you should leave me," he laughed dryly and exhausted. You scoffed, running a hand through your hair.

"I never said anything about leaving you, Luc. I'm trying to be your friend here, I want to be there for you but I can't do that if you keep pushing me away!"

The maids had left a long while ago after Diluc dismissed them when you'd started raising your voice. Elzer felt compelled to stay for your and Diluc's support but left as well when things started getting personal. You two had been fighting, screaming for hours. By then, your guys' breathing were as heavy as the weight on your chests.

Hands and jaws clenched; chests heaving; tears pooling. This had to be the most emotional day in your life—it was a big fat lie when you said you didn't remember when was the last time you'd cried. It was precisely mid May, four years ago after the tragic events on Diluc’s birthday.

"I'm not asking you to be there for me," he says, taking a deep breath in through his nose. "I never did."

Your eyes widened at this. Something bubbled in your chest—it wasn't anger anymore. You could feel Diluc watch you as if you were some lunatic, in which you did feel like one. Fighting your best friend over something like this? It was ridiculous.

"You're not thinking straight; you're in mourning right now. I'll come back to check on you tomo—"

"Didn't I just say that I don't need you here? Just go, I don't want to see you again," he looks away, yet there was no shame laced in his voice as he said that. You swallowed, hard. Another laugh leaves you but you shut yourself up by breathing in slowly. It took you one blink to get the tears falling.

"Diluc, please," you whisper, stepping closer to him. Yet he stepped away. "You need someone now more than ever, let me be that someone. I want to be, it's not– I don't –"

"It's not what? An obligation? Responsibility?" He finally looks up, advancing towards you and looking you straight in the eye—his crimson reds glossed in tears just as yours. He whispered as if raising his voice would make the tears spill over. "So go. I don't need you."

You could feel your throat closing up, followed by a sob. Your arms raised to his waist, wanting to hug him, but you pull them back before you could touch him. "Don't hate me for anything. I tried to be what you needed, but if you don't want that, so be it," wavered your voice as you said this, walking backward until your hand felt the doorknob. "I love you, Luc, alright? So I'm sorry if my feelings change."

And so the door shut. And once again, Diluc was alone.

Suddenly, your vision of the ceiling blurred. When you blinked, something wet trailed down your temple. Tears? Oh. You were crying.

A groan left you as you sat up straight and wiped them away. You would drink your sorrows away at the Cat's Tail if it weren't for your deadly allergies. Maybe you should take up that offer with Kaeya. You hadn't thought of that day in a while now. Perhaps it's a good thing you saw Diluc tonight, you two could straighten out everything and unpack all your emotional baggage.

"Good Gods, let’s just get this over with,” you say and get up, grabbing your coat and leaving.

You lived a good few blocks from the tavern. You always had to use the long way because of the gods-forsaken amount of cats lying outside and inside of Cat’s Tail. The walk was never too long but never too short, however, with the number of thoughts running around your head, it felt like it was way, way, way too long.

Although you were dazed out for most of the trip, your legs made it to Angel’s easily. What should you say, do if you see him? Good Celestia, what if you make eye contact? That’s the worst type of interaction anyone ever has to go through.

The night you said it—the I love you part—you initially meant it as a friend. Back then, you’d always said that to each other as a joke at first, like a sigh of relief when a favor was done by one another, or when one of you saves the other’s ass. You two went through a lot and for a long time too, it was natural that some form of platonic/familial love grew in the midst of that.

But now that you think of it. . . at that moment, maybe you did mean it in another way. You couldn’t remember; again, you were fueled by lots of negative emotions. Before you could process what you had said, you were already out the door. Elzer was sat outside by the staircase and was alerted by the door. The minute he’d seen your red, tear-stained face, he stood up and ran over to you and offered to get you a ride home. Thank the Archons for him, by the way.

Before you knew it, you had arrived at the Angel’s Share, staring at the door like some idiot. Another groan leaves you yet again. A long groan that went on for five seconds until you lazily pushed down the doorknob and entered.

“Ah, captain! I thought you weren’t available tonight?” Kaeya greets. Despite hearing his voice first, you already had your eyes on the bar and who was managing it. Despite it being Charles, it still made you feel kind of. . . not relieved.

“Sorry, Alberich. Changed my mind last minute,” you smile softly and took a seat. “Something really strong, make it three.” Kaeya’s eyes flew wide at this, chuckling in amusement.

“Ohoho, what brought this on? Stressful day in the office?” he prods, swirling a glass of wine in one hand while he leaned his cheek on the other. “Don’t answer yet, I’d like to guess.” He takes a sip of his wine slowly, looking for an answer.

“Anything go through your wine-fed brain, friend?” you ask sarcastically while muttering a “thank you” to Charles who had just slipped three glasses of whatever strong alcohol they had on hand. Kaeya clicks his tongue and takes another sip of his wine.

“Too much paperwork?”

“Similar to your first.”

“That sounded. . . oddly sexual? Ooh! Ditched a one-night stand?”

“What? No! Last guess,” you cringe, both at Kaeya and the drink. Your friend and colleague turns to you and looks you in the eye—a very uncomfortable move for you, for some reason. You tried to scooch away, but he scooches closer.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I gi—ooh! Is it love~?” he sings, catching the attention of Venti who had just walked in.

“Love? Now, this is the kind of juice I’d drink that isn’t grape juice,” the young bard grumbles as he takes the seat next to you, furthest away from Kaeya and closest to the wall, a spot he always occupies when you drink with the two. “What’s this about love? Is a certain someone in looove?” Venti giggles as if he were already drunk despite the fact that he was nowhere near touching a glass.

You huff and cross your legs as you down the entire glass. “Mhm, that’s not good,” Kaeya mutters and snatches the empty glass from you. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” you mope into your hands. “Kaeya, did you ever smooth things out with you and L– Diluc after. . . you know?”

Kaeya gives you a puzzled look, just as Venti did. “Why’re you asking?”

“I may kind of, perhaps, maybe have thoughts about doing just that.”

“What? Why? When? Why???”

“Smoothen what? What’s the big deal?” Venti chimes in, thanking Charles for his wine.

You and Kaeya wince at the question, visibly and internally tensing up. “And did I forget to ask why?”

“Exactly three times, and besides, I just. . . it’s been weighing on me—”

“Oh my, GODS, Diluc is the dude you like?”

“No!” Venti gasps dramatically, slapping a hand over his mouth. Your heads slowly turn to him, to which he gets the message and sinks back. “Shutting up,” he says with his hand still over his mouth.

You turn back to Kaeya and reach out for your second glass. “Yes. Maybe. Kind of? I don’t know! Listen, Lisa and Jean were just teasing me and then things got a little serious and when I got home, all I could think of was that day. Night? I can’t even remember anymore,” followed by you downing the glass again.

Kaeya sighs and sets down his glass. “You know that I’m all about helping you but Diluc? As much as I want to be his brother again, him being your friend is off the list. What he said and did isn’t forgivable,” he says, seriously this time. The usually carefree Kaeya must’ve been shocked out of his body.

“I know, I know, but that’s exactly why I need to fix things between us. It’s been four years, Kae. Plus, we weren't thinking straight. When you're that overwhelmed, you would’ve said anything. He did exactly that—”

“So why are you thinking of letting this go?!"

"Because! Despite everything he said and did, and all the swearing at each other the last four years, and the awkward encounters in public that lead to little roast battles, I think everything I ever felt for him is still there. Was and never left," you hid your face behind your hands again, confused and extremely unsure of what to do. Venti, who you kind of forgot was still by you, placed a hand on your shoulder. "Look at me, I'm acting like some lovesick dick."

Kaeya sighs, drinking a bit more of his wine and watches as you do the same. "I think you should talk to Master Diluc," Venti says and snatches a bottle of wine from behind the counter when Charles wasn't looking. "I may not know what's going on between you guys but you should go with my advice 'cause I'm always right," he shrugs and takes a nice long swig that took three whole gulps. "B'sides, it's been four years! That's like. . . four years!"

"Thank you, Venti, for your wonderful insight," you turn to Kaeya. "See? He agrees."

"That's because he doesn't know anything about what happened. You deserve better, Y/N!"

Another groan leaves you, irritated by the fact that you didn't know what to do. "And how is Venti already wasted?"

Kaeya laughs lightly, swirling his glass and begins a new topic, the front door of the tavern opens with a tiny jingle. Neither of the three turn and continue to softly converse among themselves until Charles leaves his spot just as Venti was about to ask for another refill.

"Master Diluc, thank you for taking over my shift for me."

Your entire body freezes. Drats. The entire reason for your presence in Angel's was to drink your problems about Diluc away and to avoid him, not to drink in front of him now while you're still trying to figure out if you wanted to reconcile or leave things as is. Why must making amends be so difficult? Is it a trauma response thing?

"It's no problem, Charles," says the voice you so didn't want to hear tonight. Kaeya nudges you with his elbow, gesturing to the second floor with a raised brow. An easy signal to get, so you slowly move your head to nod, but then change your mind midway and end up shaking your head. The cavalry captain shrugs, asking why. You shrug back, confused about your answer too. "Give my birthday wishes to your daughters as well. Enjoy your time," followed by his boots softly clicking on the floor and Charles's slowly fading away.

"I will, Master Diluc. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take care."

When the door shut with that jingle again, the four of you remained awkwardly, hellishly silent. Six Fingered Jose's lyre and the hushed conversations from throughout the tavern thankfully made the silence between you all less insufferable, including the occasional loud laughter from the celebrating people from the Adventurer's Guild by the corner. Even as Diluc filled Venti's cup with hesitance and a very evident roll of his eyes, he still felt uneasy by your quietness. No catty comment as a substitute for a welcome? No dissing of his grape juice in his face while calling him nicknames related to his favorite beverage? Nothing?

Admittedly, it was a new feeling. Different, but in an uncomfortable way. You could feel his vermillion eyes staring at you with the slightest bit of concern while he put away the now-empty wine bottle (courtesy of yours truly) into the full crate of glass bottles carefully. Sighing, he picks up the bin and walks out the door to discard the trash.

When the door jingles close, Kaeya leans in. "What the hell?"

"What now?" you complain out loud, making Venti giggle.

"You made Y/N mad~" he burps out cheers-ing to no one in particular before downing the very glass.

"That was so much tension—and I'm saying that, me, the absolute god and king of tension!" Kaeya whisper-yells at you, desperately finding ways to change your mind and forget about anything related to his brother.

“Oh calm down you big baby, I’ll handle things myself.” That was a lie, a cold-faced lie. Sure, you can carry your own weight but confrontation, where your feelings are involved, isn’t your forte. “Just trust me on this, would you?”

Kaeya purses his lips then leans over to Venti, who was already passed out on the counter, and retreats with another sigh. “I have work early in the morning so I have to go, but I’m leaving my door open for you in anything goes wrong, alright?”

Your eyes soften at your friend’s support before nodding. “And–”

“Bring this little guy with me, yes.”

Your fellow captain picks up Venti and easily piggy-backs him and walks over to the door, but not without giving you a small, reassuring smile. You return the favor with a wave. Before Kaeya could open the door, it jingled open, a man clad in black and red filing in.

Here we go.

be in the taglist? just dm me!

taglist:

@lez-zuha

@dancing-hillary

[inposterumcumgaudio]

Poedit Cut/Unused Content: Haworth Labs

So the quest "Haworth Labs" was originally quite a bit different. Its sutitles are titled "Fun and Games" in Poedit and contains some cut eavesdroppers as well as conversations Arthur participates in that imply the structure of the quest involved more environmental storytelling and choice making based on it.

Basically, rather than immediately being recognized as an interloper as you are now, you'd be infiltrating Haworth Labs and pretending you worked there. You'd periodically be dragged into conversations with other workers and if you said the wrong thing, they could determine you were a spy and raise the alarm. It explains Arthur's objective note "I'll have to sweet talk my way past these check points if they spot me in here" for the first room after decontamination.

F_DL Do you smell burned motilene?

M_AH I always smell motilene. There's cracks in most of the pipes.

F_DL No, burned motilene. You don't think they mixed up the motilene and the methyltransferase?

M_AH How? One's a fuel and the other's a catalyst. One goes in the heating coil and the other goes in the reaction vat!

F_DL I heard Frankland saying motilene when he meant methyltransferase. I thought it was just a slip of the tongue, but with Dr. V swapping around all the precursors...

F_DL Could have been worse. What if they'd swapped it for the propanyl?

M_AH Do you want tell Dr. V?

F_DL Of course not! He'll tear my head off!

M_AH Well it's not going to be me. I like my job.

M Mr. Watt seems so upset. What if we got him a present?

PC How about a pinata? Uncle Jack did a whole episode on it.

F_M But Mr. Watt hates the Spanish. Ever since Gibraltar. Everybody knows that. You're an imposter! SPY! SPY!

PC He loves art. Maybe we could get him a painting of horses, or something.

M Oooh, my stomach's growling at the very thought of horses.

F I'm sort of worried about the tunnel rats. They haven't sung in a while.

"What? They just sort of squeak, don't they?"

F The Tunnel Rats! They came to serenade us -- who are you? A SPY! A SPY!

PC I hope they're not all gone on holiday. They were down to a duet, weren't they?

F If they're all gone, who's going to fix our pipes?

F_M I should have never left the flower store. I should never have taken this job.

F Calm down, for heaven's sake. You haven't worked at a flower shop in five years!

M Have you got roses? Oh, yes, long stem or short stem. Short stem, please. And would you like some greenery with that.

F Snap out of it! It's just another day on the job!

M_EF This place has gone to the dogs since that Boyle girl left.

F_DH Oh, she broke his heart, she did.

M_EF It's worse than that. I think she was checking his calculations.

F_DH And now they won't even let her in. Oh dear. No wonder things keep exploding.

And a bunch of stuff that didn't fit neatly into the above.

The fog smells ... sort of sweet. It's not cyanide, is it?

Cyanide smells like almonds. It's probably nitrous oxide. I'd still stay out of it. Unless you need dental work!

Righto. ...Who are you, again?

I'm Reg.

Reg! Of course! I didn't recognize you.

The dimethylamino-phenylpropanol has turned into a salt!

Yes, that's normal. We isolate it as an oxalate salt.

No wonder there was an explosion! At 57 Celsius, motilene's practically itching to burst into flames!

Stop it! Just stop it! you're driving me out of my mind!

The flunitrazepam seems to be ... on fire.

05 There's a fire extinguisher in the office.

F I'm sure Dr. Verloc will come up with a better formula!

F Stop it! Just stop it! you're driving me out of my mind!

F_MS You don't work here, do you? SPY! SPY!

F_3 Oh. That's all right then.

F_6 Right! Forgot about that.

F_M Who the hell are you? INTRUDER! INTRUDER!

F_MS You don't work here, do you? SPY! SPY!

M Who the hell are you? INTRUDER! INTRUDER!

M You're an imposter. SPY! SPY!

M It's not! It's not! They've changed the formulas! The new ones have never worked. And now they're exploding.

PC Well, that'll make it easier to bottle, then, won't it?

PC Oh, Christ, where are the gas masks!

PC Ah. The good doctor left his keycard. I can get into his storage room now.

PC Heavens! Hit the alarm!

Stubbs I do not drink alcohol, nor should you attempt to induce a constable to be derelict in his duty!

Stubbs is the white bobby, by the way, for the all the apparent Stubbs/Verloc shippers out there. You could try to bribe him at a point based on this line, but he would be immune to your bullshit.

Anyway, the reason I went looking for these in the first place is because every time I play this game for someone, they get hung up on the part of the cutscene by Verloc says to do whatever they did the last time and then says that no one should know that.

Which I still don't know what it is that no one should know, but if they had kept the information checkpoint part of the gameplay, then it would have created a cool narrative twist where you had to look around for clues and information in the factory all the way up so you would know what you were talking about and not arouse suspicion, only to know too much when you get to Verloc's white bobby.

I also think that more gameplay like this would have been helpful in teaching the player how to examine the world more deeply. There's not really many quests where the information you need in is the world rather than told or given to you, but the game does use environmental storytelling a lot to enrich the narrative, only to have a lot of players not even knowing to look.

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Oddtober the Thirteenth" Episode Followup, Part 2

It Takes Oddtober to Make the Thirteenth Go Right...or something. Mashing up titles is hard.

Let's continue below the break!

Oh God, these three villains' streaming recommendations must be off the fucking charts.

"She needs a hobby," says the man who wants to go sightseeing across the country in the span of a day and is probably so anti-streaming it hurts.

*claps four times* THASS' IT. THASS' TH' BITCH. THERE IT IS. WE GET A WHOLE GROUP OF SLEEP RIGHT HERE. THE WHOLE 'FECTA. THE WHOLE FIVE-FECTA.

Ahhhh Omar...keep playin' your classic one-hit wonder. At this rate if there's a Season 2/Season 5 and they bring him back we'll get a UK version of "In Your Dreams" and oh God I just made myself sick even thinking about that.

Cinema etiquette, this girl does not have.

I can't exactly say that this is a movie that was cobbled together in the span of a few minutes, because that's horseshit...but this is a movie not even Netflix would have in its own bargain bin.

*low groan through gritted teeth*

I kinda knew this was coming, but they had a chance to do a lobotomy on Opie while she was snoring away just before.

Ha...aha...heh...THAT'S WHERE THIS CLIP COMES FROM?????

God, my guess was way the fuck off.

Captain O has a chance to do the funniest thing, but she won't, because this episode won't go that far and she's not as fueled by anger as Oprah was.

This stupidity is crazy irritating, and I hate it, and it kills any momentum I would have had for this rip of an episode.

"Should we be in here?"

"Yes! No. No wait, yes! We're main characters, remember?"

"Oh...right."

draws the line at safety clothing

but...not at framed chessboards

You fucking hypocrite.

No, seriously, what stick up her ass does Orli have in this episode that she's going after every villain's jugulars for their likes? Not even Olympia, Otis and Oprah did that! I mean...they thought the ambassadors' likes were weird, but...they didn't outright insult them.

Omar, stop writing self-aware shit and just stick to your cry-for-help sleeping schtick. There are better ways to write Orli as being self-aware.

*long long sigh*

No, Omar, giving Opie karma by way of taking away her picnic blanket and using it as a gift is not viable either. She needs much bigger karma than that.

I see Orli's been hanging around Onom long enough to know The Art of the Lung-Bursting Gasp.

*deep inhale*

I just...fuck's sake, Opie, just say yes. Better yet, Ozzie, snatch it from her damn hands and book it.

Once again, lemme reiterate: they could just as easily lie and say they hate it.

But of course now is the end of the episode, so that's...not really possible. Gotta wrap shit up somehow.

Okay, this bit isn't funny. It was never funny. Repeating it over and over doesn't make it funny.

Yeeeeeah, happy Oddtober the Thirteenth!

Now go watch the original Oddtober episodes from 2015 and actually enjoy yourselves with much better content.

And your credits for this episode. I actually got Fluorescent Florie's name right, which I definitely wasn't expecting.

--------------------------------------------

Overall...yeah...you can kinda see where this is going, huh? Blah blah "It Takes Goo" rip, blah blah it did this far better. To be fair, though, that episode did it first and did it far better. No stupidity that sends me into a blinding-white-hot rage, we actually get a little bit of lore, and we get an Oprah laugh that is so pure and innocent I can't help but smile. Oh yeah, and the whole...goo thing at the end...the innuendo...yeah. There's no innuendos found here, just the tainting of a punny name that was already used for something better 9 years ago and a complete and utter rip of a better episode that's one of the most blatant rips of the entire season. Like, "The B Team" levels of rip. And I hated my father "The B Team".

Load it into the cannon, fire it into the sun, and I'll see y'all for "Agent Overhill's Last Day" in (hopefully) a few days. Villain X be damned, I don't think I'll enjoy that one either.

Seren out!

[imsogayyippee]

favorite lyric from each mcr album?

oh that's. pretty hard to decide hold on

long ass post sooo ↓

so from bullets, some lines i really like are:

"and you must keep your soul like a secret in your throat" (vampires will never hurt you)

"Oh, how wrong we were to think that immortality meant never dying" (our lady of sorrows)

"with ice cold hands and grabs a hold of your heart/that's if you've still got one that's left inside that cave you call a chest" (skylines and turnstiles)

"i'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets" (demolition lovers)

"And after all the things we put each other through and/I would drive on to the end with you/a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full and/I feel like there's nothing left to do/But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running" (demolition lovers)

"All we are, all we are/Is bullets, I mean this" (demolition lovers)

"As lead rains will pass on through our phantoms/Forever, forever/Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning/Forever and ever/Know how much I want to show you you're the only one/Like a bed of roses, there's a dozen reasons in this gun" (demolition lovers)

from three cheers for sweet revenge:

"Can you hear me?/Are you near me?/Can we pretend to leave and then/We'll meet again/When both our cars collide" (helena)

"well, don't I look pretty walking down the street in the best damn dress I own?" (give 'em hell, kid)

"pain in my heart for your dying wish/I'll kiss your lips again, yeah" (you know what they do to guys like us in prison)

"pull the plug, but i'd like to learn your name/when holding on/oh, i hope you do the same" (the jetset life is gonna kill you)

"Preach all you want, but who's gonna save me?/I keep a gun in the book you gave me" (thank you for the venom)

"Don't stop if I fall and don't look back/Oh, baby, don't stop/Bury me and fade to black" (hang 'em high)

"when you go, just know that I will remember you/if living was the hardest part/we'll then one day be together/and in the end we'll fall apart/just like the leaves change in colors" (it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking deathwish)

"And we'll love again, we'll laugh again, we'll cry again, and we'll dance again!/and it's better off this way, so much better off this way/I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed!/and never again, and never again/they gave us two shots to the back of the head/and we're all dead now" (i never told you what i do for a living)

from the black parade:

"you might wake up and notice you're someone you're not/if you look in the mirror and don't like what you see/you can find out first hand what it's like to be me" (the end.)

"and would you even turn to say i don't love you like i did yesterday" (i don't love you)

"tell me i'm an angel/take this to my grave/tell me i'm a bad man/kick me like a stray" (house of wolves)

"You should have raised a babygirl/I should have been a better son" (mama)

"and if you would call me your sweetheart/i'd maybe then sing you a song/but there's shit that i've done with this fuck of a gun/you would cry out your eyes all along" (mama)

"so shut your eyes/kiss me goodbye/and sleep/just sleep/the hardest part's the awful things that i've seen" (sleep)

"na, na, na, na, na, na, na (let's blow an artery) /na, na, na, na, na, na, na (get plastic surgery) /na, na, na, na, na, na, na /keep your apology, give us more detonation" (na na na)

"coming out of this place in a bullet's embrace" (bulletproof heart)

"are we still having fun?/are you holding the gun?" (planetary (GO!))

"they laugh, we don't think it's funny/if what you are is just what you own/what have you become when they take from you/almost everything?" (DESTROYA)

there's probably more but it's late and ive been writing this for like an hour LMAOOO im sorry 4 not answering before

[travelelrartemis]

what's your favorite type of starship and what are you currently flying around in?

Hi! Favourite type has a bit of a complicated answer! My all-time favourite dream ships are solar ships, but specifically I've been nonstop thinking about this absolutely gorgeous white one with a gold trim and crescent sail and double blade wings I caught a glimpse of flying out of a space station a while ago. I wasn't even looking to buy a ship, I just saw it for a split second flying out of the space station and shouted in pure shock so loud a group of Korvax ran up to me and tried to do some kind of emergency repair on my exosuit because they thought I was screamimg because my life support was failing. And I was dying. So if that means anything to you... well, it came back several hours later, and I got a better look at it. She was definitely a higher end class, good storage for a solar ship, even looked like the launch thrusters had recently been repaired and upgraded (though with what, I don't know). And the pulse engine looked damn close to brand new, but you could tell this wasn't a brand new ship! Just a very well maintained one!! And it's not just that they're stylish. They're just SO fuel efficient. It's almost scary seeing how big a difference a vesper sail makes on a ship's pulse drive compared to, quite literally, every single other ship you will ever pilot. Now I'm imagining how rarely I'd have to stock up on Tritium to get anywhere if only I had that ship. I can't. I have to stop. I'll be talking about it forever. I'll make myself sick talking about it. Does it sound like I'm being paid by a ship manufacturer? I promise you, I'm not!! I just really like this ship ok!!

And of course I was the most short on units I've ever been when I examined it a second time. Might not ever be able to buy it. Unless I can rope one of my friends into paying for it? I don't know! I have exactly one friend who makes a lot of money, or at least more than I currently do. And I don't think I'll be able to convince them to buy an entire solar ship for me, especially not one in such great condition, meaning it will be that much more expensive. sigh

(I would send a picture but I think I might've lost the pictures I took of it?? All I have are my written notes. sigh x2)

I guess my second favourite, more realistically obtained ship would be an explorer- I'm a traveller, after all! It would make sense that I should look for a ship specifically suited for better travelling. Perhaps one day I'll really start looking for one. Maybe I'll try and repair an old crashed one- I've helped others repair their ships, I think I'm quite skilled at it, ha. Ooh, maybe I could try and find a solar to repair?

As for what ship I currently have, I've had this beast of a hauler for a while now, which I'm more than happy with.

She looks a bit compact, but she's got excellent storage space, actually a bit better than some other certain haulers I've seen in and out of stations since I added a bit more available storage. Which, I definitely need that storage. Call it hoarding if you want, I like to call it sudden emergency collecting. My point is I keep a lot of miscellaneous things in my ship that I probably wouldn't be able to keep in any other ship. I suppose that's my only other legitimate reason for not buying a solar outside of money, I really do just need al that space. And physically, I could clear it out pretty easily, but not emotionally. Most of the old stuff in there are things that remind me of people I know. And, since I don't tend to keep to one base for very long, my ship is the best place for it! Also sometimes I sleep back there

Aaaah sorry for talking so long!! It's just a topic I care a lot about... I hope you understand, and also that I answered your question somewhere in that tangent? I also apologize if anything is misspelled. I'm very tired. Maybe I can go sleep in the back of my ship with all my stuff, like I was talking about

[ridetherain]

Courage at the Front Part 2/2

Second part of my WWII Zelda fic!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Zelda

Zelda woke stiff and uncomfortably warm. Sweat had dripped down her back leaving a damp spot where shirt met waistband. She had slumped down overnight from her place against the wall to a crumpled position on the floor. Her head was pillowed gently in Link's lap with his hand resting heavily on her shoulder. He was still asleep above her and she took the opportunity to really look at the soldier. With his uniform in disarray and missing his helmet, Zelda found herself really seeing him for the first time. He was young, probably twenty or so. His features were delicate and feminine. Not quite what you expect from a tank man - though his slim build was likely an asset. He had long lashes and pouty lips and soft blond hair that wasn't regulation length. He was the prettiest man she'd ever seen. 

"If you keep staring like I'm an animal in a zoo, I'm going to charge you five rupees."

White stars erupted in Zelda's vision when she startled and thrust her head out of Link's lap. The tight quarters ensured that her violent movement bashed her head into the nearest steel wall. She groaned in pain and humiliation before setting her head right back where it started. Link gave her an awkward pat on the head which only made the shame worse.

"Come on, Lieutenant. Let's see what's out there today." He said bracingly.

They awkwardly disentangled their limbs and Zelda spent a moment adjusting her clothing and Link's bandana back into something resembling respectable. It was obvious that she had spent the night on the floor with a man.

Link had immediately began peering out the repaired periscope and nodded to himself in satisfaction. He cautiously opened the hatch just enough to allow his head to pass and gave a full circle survey of the landscape.

"Seems quiet, ma'am. We should be able to step out for a bit safely. Inspect the exterior and try to get this thing going."

"Ok, the gas gauge is nearly empty so we'll need a refill before we head out."

Link nodded again and grabbed his rifle before pulling himself out the hatch. Zelda heard a few scuffling noises before "Clear!"

She pulled out after Link and began sifting through the supplies strapped to the M4A2. No extra fuel.

"Damn Zora. Can't they keep supplies on hand? Sargent, any ideas?"

She glanced at Link who was gazing at a tank about a half kilometer away. Dammit. He was probably right that it was the only option.

"Ok, I see it, Sargent. You go for that one and I'll head to the one in the east. One of us will probably get lucky and find something. Meet back here in twenty minutes."

They both took one last look around for the enemy before heading out. Zelda breathed a small sigh of relief that her direction was slightly less trampled and there were fewer red stains on the ground. She was still careful with unfamiliar bits of shrapnel though. Her heart pounded with every cracked branch and every shuffle of leaves under her feet. It was terrifyingly silent without her small noises. Her target was getting steadily bigger as she crept closer and closer.

Link

The gas was easy to find on the decimated hunk of garbage that remained of the Lanayru machine. He was halfway through cutting the jugs loose when he realised he had a bit of a problem. The problem was the voices of at least two men that Link could hear speaking on the other side of the tank. Enemy.

He held his breath and tried to cut through the mesh as silently as possible. They didn't know he was there based on the level of noise they were making. They seemed comfortable. Secure. Arguing in dull voices about bananas. His knife dragged through the netting another time and the jug slipped just a little. Just a tiny scrape. The voices stopped. Muffled footsteps began to creep closer. Link shoved his knife through another hunk of netting. The tension from the weight of the jug caused the breakage to snap. A boot scuffed. Link gripped the handle of his knife with one hand and the jug with the other and took a breath in preparation.

He ripped the jug free of the netting and swiped his knife to the side where a Yiga soldier jumped out at him. Knives swung between them and Link barely managed to drop the gas in time to catch a fist heading for his balls. It was too late to also catch the knife that slid forward and cut deeply into the back of his forearm. He cursed loudly into the man’s face and shoved him backwards onto the dropped jug. It clunked on the ground and Link used the obstruction to twist the soldier sideways so he was pinned against the fraying netting and supplies. A quick bit of footwork took the man to the ground and knocked his head with a sickening crunch. One down. One to-

Link froze. The unmistakable feeling of a muzzle pressed against his back. 

“Drop weapon.” 

Link immediately dropped his knife. His rifle was slung over his shoulder still and he carefully spread his hands to the side and shrugged until it slipped down his arm and bloodied on the hilt of the knife still sticking out of his skin. It felt like he lit his arm on fire. The knife had hit bone. The enemy pressed harder into his back for a tense moment while Link shook in pain before stepping back a tiny amount to grab at the rifle. 

It only took that space of a moment for Link to turn and bash the man’s face with the butt of his dangling rifle. A gunshot rang out in the still air. Link screamed in pain as the knife ripped from his arm. He didn’t stop though, and bashed again and again until the man was down and would never come up again. He wasn’t shot. He was pretty sure. He patted himself down with his good arm and confirmed there wasn’t extra blood coming from anywhere. 

Eager to get out of there, he slung his rifle over his back again. Picked up the gas and took off running back to as much safety as can be found behind enemy lines.

Zelda

Zelda began running back to their tank when she heard shouting coming from the direction Link went. When a gunshot rang out she hit the dirt and crawled the last distance to the tank. She cowered behind the treads for a moment fumbling with her pistol and squinted at the figure running full tilt towards her. Slowly the shape formed into a man carrying a box. It must be Link with the gas. He was struggling awkwardly with the canister, but she wasn’t about to run out and help while someone was firing at them. She averted her firearm and watched carefully for movement behind Link. He seemed to have won whatever fight he was in.

It felt like ages before Link was close enough to see. He was bleeding freely and slowing down. 

“All clear!” He shouted.

That was all it took for her to burst into action, running to him and grabbing the tank of gas off him. It was full and very heavy, maybe 20 liters which wouldn’t last, but should be enough.

“You’re wounded.” She was afraid of what that could mean. She didn’t know much about medicine. 

“Yes,” He grit out between clenched teeth. “The bastard jabbed his knife in my arm. It fell out. Don’t worry about it.”

She squinted at him for a moment, but turned to climb up the side of the machine to put her paltry offering into the fuel line. She kept an eye on Link as he shed his rifle and shirt to get at his arm. It didn’t look good, but that could have been all the blood. He poured out a measure of water onto the wound and it was looking a bit better. Thank god it was the back of his arm instead of the fleshy underside. It was deep though, and wide. 

Zelda tossed the empty jug to the side and climbed a little higher to grab the med kit she had hooked at the hatch. A bit of alcohol would clean it out and a pressure bandage would be as much as they could do for now. Luckily, the Zora had a bit of gauze she could use to help clean him off too. 

She offered him the bottle of alcohol, but Link just stretched his arm out to her and silently looked the other way. Zelda sighed, unstoppered the bottle and unceremoniously dumped a healthy measure onto the gash. Link grunted, but otherwise kept still and silent. She let the sting dissipate for a moment then swiped at the blood with the gauze. That got him to gasp and whip his head around at her.

“You could have warned me!” He bit out the words.

She shrugged and kept pouring and wiping until the wound and surrounding arm looked clean enough. The bandage was quickly shook out and pressed on carefully. She tried to be a little gentler with the ties and checked in on his face a few more times. He was a little pale, but seemed otherwise fine. 

“Come on, let’s get back in this hunk of metal and head home.” Zelda picked up his rifle and pulled it over her shoulder while he gathered his shirt and gloves. Now that he wasn’t in danger of bleeding out, she was able to look at the rest of him. He looked pretty good. Really good. Strong, too. 

She looked away before she noticed anything else and helped him climb up to the hatch.

“Put your shirt back on, Sargent.”

Link

"I think we're far enough."

Zelda slowed to a stop and Link gave a sigh and ducked back into the tank from where he was looking through the hatch.

"I don't recognize where we are, but we're on the edge of a copse with a decent sized field and a little creek. Should be enough landmarks to find us. Want to try the radio?" He asked.

Zelda nodded and motioned for him to swap places with her. He followed her direction and slid into the seat for the co-driver. His neck was aching after an hour of constantly surveying the horizon and tensing at every movement and glint of sun. His arm pulsed in pain in time with his heartbeat. Zelda fared better as the driver, but still seemed hesitant to start up the radio.

"Don't worry," He said, "We're about five kilometers from the last enemy troop we saw. We're definitely safe now."

She nodded absently at him and flipped the radio switch. It crackled to life and she silently waited for a moment listening to the static. She turned the tuner channel from the Zora setting to the one marked Hylian ally and let the static play for another minute. Finally, a voice came through reporting a supply convoy. Zelda met his eyes and they both released sighs together.

"Break, break," Zelda said, "Hotel Four-Zed, Hotel Four-Zed this is," she referenced the serial next to the radio, "Golf Tango One-Two."

The radio fell silent, and then...

"Proceed Golf Tango One-Two, this is Hotel Four-Zed." The crackled voice was the best thing Link had ever heard. They were going to live. He didn't really believe it until this moment.

"Hotel Four-Zed, this is Golf Tango One-Two. Code yellow, little bird returns. Unknown location. Traveled roughly 8 kilometers west from last known location. Over."

"Golf Tango One-Two, this is Hotel Four-Zed. Roger that. Stand by. Over."

Link waited quietly for an explanation of what Zelda had just done. What was "little bird”, what did that mean? She was a mechanic which wasn't exactly important enough to merit a code name. Something wasn't adding up. He did his best to let his displeasure known without directly questioning her. It was unlikely she would be intimidated by his glare, but it was worth a shot.

"Little Bird?" He repeated.

"Yes," She said crisply, "That's me."

The radio crackled to life again. A different voice was on the line this time.

"Golf Tango One-Two, this is Hotel Four-Zed. Come in, over."

"Hotel Four-Zed, this is Golf Tango One-Two," Zelda said into the machine, "Go ahead Urbosa, over."

The voice sounded furious, "Little Bird you stay where you are. I say again, stay where you are. Your location is confirmed. What is your status?"

"I'm fine, Urbosa. I'm not on my own. We're safe for now, but we've got wounded."

"Don't move an inch. We'll be at your location within four hours. Over and out."

Okay, he had four hours to get to the bottom of this. Zelda set down the radio and began pulling her uniform back into place where she had loosened it.

"Come on, Sargent. Let's get out of this heat."

He reluctantly followed her out and found himself breathing fresh air and taking in some sunlight.

"It'll be dark by the time they get here, ma'am. We should find something to eat while we can still see."

"What? No, they'll be here in less than ten minutes."

Link startled and said, somewhat stupidly, "But she said four hours?"

Zelda just waved him off and drank from his canteen. Ten minutes. She must be from intelligence and have actual information to pass on. He's been wandering around enemy territory with a spy. No way was he going to question her. She'd probably have it all twisted around in minutes and would be questioning him. Or she'd been doing it this whole time and he's accidentally spilled his guts. What had he told her? He couldn't remember.

They waited in a tense silence until suddenly eight people melted out of the shadows in the trees to surround them. All of their weapons pointed directly at Link. His frightened yelp was the only sound of the whole experience.

"Oh, stand down." Zelda said, annoyed. Guns were instantly moved to not technically be pointed at him, but still close enough that Link didn't put his hands back down from where he had them raised. Zelda must be a really important spy.

Zelda was about to speak again when the sound of a chopper overhead caused the commandos to shuffle closer and point their guns even more menacingly at places very close to where Link stood. It landed perfectly on the little stretch of open land available and an enormously tall and beautiful woman stepped out like a movie star. Every movement was sensual. Link glanced to the side to see Zelda's reaction and was surprised to see her looking rather penitent.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" The beautiful woman shouted at Zelda as soon as she was in earshot, "Nevermind. Get in the helicopter immediately. We are returning you to the rear where you belong."

The woman didn't touch Zelda, but made it clear she expected compliance. Zelda grabbed Link's good arm and dragged him behind her.

"What? No, he can return with the Ops. Do you have any idea how worried I've been? You disobeyed orders, left your command, terrified me, and I won't even get into what this has done to your father."

Despite the beautiful woman's words, Zelda didn't let him go and Link was dragged aboard the chopper. Beautiful woman gave him an annoyed look and he returned a bewildered one. He rattled his name and serial number off. Hopefully that would be enough to keep her from tossing him to the squad of people with guns pointed not-at-him. 

They sat stiffly in the helicopter during the fifteen minute ride. Link tried not to look at the beautiful woman, the beautiful woman alternated looking disappointed at Zelda and suspicious of him, and Zelda watched the countryside go by. They didn't speak.

Finally the chopper landed and the beautiful woman reached over and pulled him back from Zelda.

"You leave last. Let her get to the ground before you step out."

It was an odd order, but Link wasn't about to get in the way of orders surrounding a high-level spy.

The beautiful woman opened the door and stepped out.

"I'm sorry." Zelda whispered to him before following the beautiful woman.

He gave it a beat before making his way to the door and looking out. He froze before he could step out because not four feet away from the edge of the helicopter blades was the King.

Zelda

Father was waiting for her when they landed. Zelda wasn't sure if she was surprised or not. Since she was missing for a time it probably made sense that he was here. It would look horrible if he was already in the country and wasn't there to greet his daughter on her return from being MIA. Zelda stepped in front of him and gave the best curtsy she could in her grubby mechanic uniform and Link's bandana. She was not looking the part of Princess at all.

Behind her, Zelda heard a gasp and knew that Link had finally put it together. Or at least realized that he was in way over his head. The suspicion around the codename had raised some questions, no doubt. But lots of people had codenames in the grand scheme of a war. Fewer had a King waiting for their return.

Zelda waited until she could hear Link's footsteps shuffling as close as he dared before...

"Father," And Link gasped again. "I want this Sargent to be awarded a medal for bravery. I owe him my life."

Link's training held and he was silent by Zelda's side. She couldn't quite see him from this angle, but she was sure that he was just over her left shoulder.

"Hmm," The King said, "Personal service to the crown merits more than a simple military award. Urbosa. Have my daughter and this man discharged immediately. The Princess will return to the palace and begin working again. The man can come at a later date for his investiture."

With that, he turned and left for the car awaiting him.

Zelda let out a breath and looked at Urbosa to see if she was going to start yelling. She wasn't. Papers were already in front of her face. No doubt they were discharge papers that she had already prepared. She tended to be one step ahead of everyone else.

"Your... Highness?" Link spoke quietly, "What... just happened?"

He looked completely bewildered. It was fun to see him so off balance after his calm and focus during their tumultuous escape. He was still a little pale from his injury.

"Oh, Link. We are going to be seeing more of each other, I think. You're no longer in the army. Or you won't be in a minute. You're to come to the Palace soon and get Knighted. I imagine you'll be getting a few titles actually, my father will want to make a point. No doubt you'll be weighed down by medals and then made my personal knight attendant or something equally archaic."

"...Knight?"

"Oh yes, there's no way you're getting out of this without a knighthood."

He was silent for a few minutes, absorbing. "So you’re… the princess?"

Zelda laughed.

[waxwingsandheartstrings]

GAY CONTENT (I'm talking about my partners. long post)

starting with Denver because I'm thinking about him. unfortunately also the shortest section because I haven't been able to spend too much time with him as my boyfriend but we should change that. Denver call me (/hj. I wouldn't complain though....)

anyway. I already thought he was pretty before I even had a thing for him, but, I don't know, I guess I ended up feeling pretty fondly towards him. he's sweet when he wants to be (or when it's important) but also such a dumbass at other times and I love both. I want to spend more time with him so I can write more someday.. we should go on a silly little date somewhere. one of the main memories I have with him since getting together is rough sex, which I can DEFINITELY appreciate, but I want more domestic memories, too. maybe we can go do one of those fun fall activities... like a maze or something. I think that'd be nice.

Cassie time

not my boyfriend but still a significant partner. honestly, at first, I hated him. okay, maybe hate is too much. I was jealous. he's everything I used to be and everything I wish I could be.. and, when I came back, everyone was asking about him. "where's Ghostbur?" "I miss Ghostbur". it just felt like shit. but then he came back and as much as I wanted to still be mad at him for replacing me, I just couldn't. look at him. he's too kind and he even cared enough to make sure I was talking to people when I felt it was easier to let everyone replace me with him again. even without being my partner, he's an integral part of me. we're the two halves of a man that used to be, and in loving him and him loving me, I like to think we're loving ourselves more, too.

the longest paragraph, Q

I am honest to god obsessed with him. great start, I know, but I can’t help it. I think I was into him from day one. initially, I couldn't stop staring at him, but he proved to be a great debate partner and he made me look forward to something. during Pogtopia, I don't know how he never grew to resent me. he was up there in terms of people I wanted to hate me. I didn't want him to miss me, but, well, we all know how that went. post revival, though, I was sure he did. I convinced myself that anyone would hate me, especially him, but I never stopped feeling like I needed him to keep going. I'll never know what it is about him that fuels me. I'm glad I was a dumbass and that I acted out to get his attention because he's one of the best things in my life. I wish I knew we were actually dating sooner, but I don't mind too much. I still got to cherish him either way. he was the first person I went into detail about limbo with. he's kissed every stitch and scar so many times that I can still remember the feeling, and he never held the same resentment for my body that I felt. he's held me through so many episodes and attacks and I can only hope that everything I've done for him is even a fraction of the same. I probably never would've gotten this far into recovery if he didn't do half of the stuff he did, and I owe him my life, but I'd happily give it to him anyway. I've never been too incredibly fond of myself (just content at best) but there's been so many times where he made me feel actually special. I've been thinking about it so much lately and I really do hope I get to marry him someday, even if it takes a while. if I can't, then that's okay, too, as long as he's mine.

[celestialmancer]

...The stuff below is all very negative emotional bullshit, running on low emotional filters because I can't keep things contained today & reached my fuckin gbreaking point i fucking guess.

Disconnected.

I've felt nothing but disconnected these past days from everything. Nevermind the stress flareups that have eaten me alive & especially got to me today amidst everything.

...

There's nothing but hurt. Anger seems to just have fully subsided & all that's left is the hurt that was fueling it. & I have not been able to stop feeling this kind of hurt for hours on end to where it's made me physically ill

I hate feeling anything. I hate feeling anything. I hate feeling anything. I hate feeling things so intensely.

Especially because this entire time, I'm constantly ripping myself apart telling myself I have no right to these feelings, these emotions

...

Finally letting spill how I've felt this entire time has come with nothing bu t anger at myself & regret, this feeling I'm being manipulative somehow in speaking why this whole ordeal has fucked with my own mental state. I keep telling myself I should have kept repressing it, maybe I should erase it, shove it all back under the fucking rug.

because it's all nonsensical bs, right? it's all me being irrational, it's all emotions that make no sense for me to feel. I'm just someone who overreacts, everything i've felt is nothing but an overreaction, i hav eno right to be this hurt, right. i ahve no right to still feel this kind of hurt, right.

i have no right to how i feel. i'm manipulative for feeling the way i did then & for still feeling the way i do. right.

that's what this is, right.

...

i can't stop ripping myself to shreds for daring to speak on how i feel in a private space about a certain situation, i can't stop invalidating myself up &down & ripping myself emotionally over & over again for daring to say anything, it feels like i should've never spilled the things in there that i'd been repressing on this for so long, like i should have never revealed the things that i felt about this shit that i contained for about a year, yet recent events that's happened that made EVERYTHING come back to hurt me again... All forced it out of me, & now I feel nothing but shame for daring to say anything.

because its humiliating i get this emotional, & i also never had a right to these emotions in the first goddamn fucking place, right. All the things I felt are just things in my head, its all me being delusional, it sall my delusions, im hurt over fuckign delusions, right, right, right, right, right

the things i experienced from them in the past are just in my head, right, just all me making shit up right. just me having no right to the way i feel because its all me overreacting to them & its all me being too much & i never had a right to feel hurt over them right.

there's a reason i shoved what i was going through under a rug & focused on everything else that was going on that was also hurtful, because this shit i speciically myself experienced & felt & went through, i have no righ t to feel the way i do & its all me being a whiny bitch right.

...

& Then there's the fact that amidst spilling i just get too emotional, & i know my emotions drive people away, i know they do, i know they do, i know they do

& maybe this is jus tme caught in a really really really negative spiral lately because i have been trying so hard to repress everything & not feel & just disconnect myself even further to where if eel nothing but its been unsuccessful & just only led to my grief ramping up & getting worse to a degree where nothing could stay within anymore & i just.

don't know.

im. very tired. i really am. i'll probably just... erase t his later, im stil

[raynebowrayne]

The earth is dying.

We probably didn't do it.

We probably won't be able to stop it.

We can stop it.

But we probably won't.

Everything we associate with global climate change is due to only one thing. The hole in the ozone layer.

We discovered it in the 1970s we heard all about it in the 80s and 90s but we stopped hearing about it in the new millenia. It doesn't even get a passing mention these days.

I want you to think of a soap bubble - like the kind you blow through a wand as a kid, a really big one.

Bigger.

Bigger.

The size of our ozone layer.

See all those swirls of color on the surface of the giant soap bubble? See how they're constantly in motion? That's our atmosphere. Those swirls of color are winds carrying moisture and chemicals and particulates all over the globe. Storms form when two large and powerful winds that are both heavy with moisture slam into each other in the atmosphere.

We found a giant hole in the soap bubble. Imagine blowing a soap bubble on a bubble wand very carefully so it doesn't blow off. Imagine blowing it really big. Bigger. Bigger - you get the picture? Now Imagine you stop blowing. What happens? The bubble shrinks, right?

So, what I'm saying is, we're spewing atmosphere into space. We have been for a long time. Thankfully, we're creating atmosphere at a pace that almost matches the speed at which we're spewing it. Almost. But not quite.

10,000 years ago the Sahara desert was lush and green and bursting with life.

25,000 years ago the American southwest was green and lush, too - Las Vegas back then was a lot like the Amazon rainforest is now.

We have to close the hole.

But the hole is the only thing stopping us from suffocating in all the pollution we're producing.

We're venting water into space. A small amount, yes. But water isn't a renewable resource. Not at the rate we're losing it.

We need to thicken the ozone layer to keep the planet from drying up but if we do that we and a lot of other species might die from pollution... we don't know how thick the ozone layer was before the hole formed... but it had to be thicker than it is.

We can create ozone - we can close the hole.

We can end the climate crisis and stabilize both the climate and the weather(for the most part). Imagine a world with no tornados, no hurricanes, no droughts, no blizzards... it's possible.

We have to end fossil fuels as an energy source. If we don't we will literally destroy the entire eco system and kill ourselves and millions of other species. The world will recover. It'll take a few million years - but it will recover. Our species won't be here to see it. Because if we don't end fossil fuels we'll choke the surface of the planet to death on pollution. Land, water - too polluted to grow most plants or support much life in the form of a very few species from which many new species will evolve by the time the ecosystem recovers from fossil fuel damage.

We can do it. We can end fossil fuels and begin healing the ozone layer. We can do it in the next 10 years with enough money invested in it.

It'd cost a few billion dollars to get started. Maybe 50 people on the planet could afford to pay for it out of their pocket and not really miss the cost of saving us all. Don't hold your breath waiting for one to step up.

How can one rich person save the world? By replacing fossil fuels with free energy. It's not a myth. It's entirely workable.

First you need a powerful magnet. I recommend a N52 or higher neodymium magnet. Make it 2 inches thick 4 inches tall and 8 inches long. It should be magnetized so that one of the 2x4 ends is positively and the other is negatively charged.

Take a ring of pure iron that is 5 inches tall, 1 - 2" thick, and has an inside diameter of about 10 inches and coat it in gold. Inside the inner portion of the ring you're going to place blocks of copper with a wire attachments on the ends, in place of traditional coils(I'll call these "coils" from here on out but they aren't really traditional coils). There should be 8 of these coils, and they should be 4 inches tall about an inch thick and 2 inches wide... it's not a bad idea to coat them in gold for longevity... they should be positioned so that they line up perfectly with the top and bottom of the 2x4 ends of the magnet and are about 1/2" from the top and bottom of the inside of the ring. They should be attached to the ring using a method to ensure maximum conductivity.

The magnet should have slightly rounded ends so that it fits inside this ring of coils and comes within a hair's breadth of touching them. It should be attached via a brace in the center of an axel so that it can spin perfectly centered inside the coils while not quite touching them. I'll call this metal ring, coil, and magnet on an axel device the "core" from here on out.

This axel with the magnet atrached to it should be driven by a 1 or 2 Kw e-bike type brushless electric motor.

The motor should be driven by a controller box, like an e-bike controller which should be powered by a 48v or higher lifepo4 battery with at least 100 to 200 amp hours capacity and a fairly fast charging speed.

By elevating the core and using a large gear on the axel we can use a small gear on the motor to give more torque and make it easier to prevent overheating the core or the motor.

The coils should be attached to wires that connect them to a voltage regulator/transformer that can regulate the wild electricity produced by the core and transform it into a 50 or 60ghz 120 or 240v feed...whatever matches the local power feed for the region its intended to be used in.

If my calculations are correct that whole set up: the core, the motor, the battery, the transformer box( I call all of that in one device my "generator") should produce enough electricity to run at least 1 to 5 houses, depending on their size and what not, without ever having a brown out moment. If tied to the grid all excess power can be shunted down the line and used for things like traffic signals and street lights. If every house has this as it's energy source and we scale this up a bit to match the needs of any building... any car, any ship, any train, any jet even... we can end fossil fuels.

To keep the battery charged the charger should be able to charge it at its maximum safe charge speed, which will make it so the battery can keep powering the motor while it charges. Side note: program the charger to only kick on when the battery reaches 10 - 25% capacity and kicks off at 100% to extend the life of the battery.(the charger plugs right into any outlet and should be left plugged in at all times.)

So why would it take billions? To set up the manufacturing centers and start producing these on a massive scale.

Sell them for 3 - 5x overhead until the cost of setting everything up is recouped then drop it to 2x overhead, flat, and you'd be a trillionaire before you died of old age if you're under 60 now - even if you split the profits with me.

The problem is that replacing fossil fuels only solves the choking to death on pollution issue, it doesn't solve the ozone issue.

That's the expensive part.

You'd need to use this generator to power ozone generators. You'd need to build a network of steel towers across a huge swath of Antarctica, right in the center where noting lives or roams. Imagine the Eiffel Tower, but instead of that iconic rotunda thing at the top, imagine a giant steel toilet brush made of rebar. Now pack those towers together in such a way that when you add massive amounts of electricity to those rebar bristles they spark off of each other - basically creating an ocean of lightning a hundred or more feet off the ground. Of course, each tower would require its own generator or bank of generators and it/they would need to be inside a structure (built between the base feet of the tower) that's not easily damaged by cold - fireproof helps, too.

Ozone is formed by electrical discharge in air. The only way to make enough to patch up the hole in the ozone layer and rethicken the ozone layer in time to prevent catastrophe is to create this massive field of lightning generating towers.

If you want to save the world build the generators, build the towers, end fossil fuels, generate ozone.

I've worked on this problem since I was a kid - over 30 years now. I don't have the money to build my generator. I have no choice but to give it away like this because I'll never have the money to build it. But we need it.

Our planet IS dying. We didn't cause it, I don't think, but we can fix it.

My generator, one rich person, and a whole lot of steel can save the planet.

If you've got the money, build it.

Save us.

Get even filthy-rich-er.

I'll answer any questions you have about any part of the device, just message me.

I'm giving up my life's work and every dream I ever had, right here and right now, in this post - in hopes that somehow, someday, someone will build the generator and the lightning field and save the world.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twelve

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"Don't take another step."

Someone nudging my shoulder wakes me from my sleep. I lazily blink my eyes open and see Joel staring down at me with his chocolate brown eyes. He probably either found something, or it's time to keep walking. Either way, my time on this mattress is coming to a sad close, and I wish I could stay here forever. My limbs stretch out before I get up, soaking in one last moment on the soft bed.

Joel moves out of my way as I get up and put my bag on my back. He picks his up as well and opens the camper door for me. The day is hot, the air is sticky with humidity.

"Follow me." He says and walks ahead of me, leading me further into the campground. Joel has some unusual pep in his step, and it's getting my hopes up that he found something good.

The rest of the campground is desolate, it's probably been abandoned for a decade now. It's almost like a time capsule, everything is exactly where it was left ten years ago. There are children's bicycles left, tents that have been blown over, and remnants of happy memories everywhere I look. Once upon a time, this place would have been a lovely destination for a weekend getaway.

The campers become less densely packed as he keeps walking deeper into the woods.

"I thought you said you weren't going far." I call him on his lie. His shoulders shrug in front of me.

"I guess it's all a matter of perspective." He refutes and I let out a short laugh.

"I'll have to keep that in mind." I say as we pass a rusted out truck.

We walk a few more paces until I see a blue pickup truck sitting out by itself. It looks a little out of place, like it should be back towards the front where most of the campers are. Joel comes to a stop in front of it and lightly smacks his hand on the hood. I'll admit, it's one of the nicest looking cars I've seen in a while. The rust is at a minimum, it still has all the doors and windows. In my eyes, this truck is on par with a Rolls Royce.

"Does it work?" I ask before my hopes get too high. This truck could need parts before it runs. And if that's the case, who knows how long we'll be here searching for them.

"It runs, we just need some gas." He says and I nod. I knew we couldn't get lucky enough to find a car without any sort of issue to deal with.

"Okay, then let's find some gas." I say, hopeful that in this campground there's fuel stored somewhere. Sure, it's frustrating that our trip is being delayed, but the thought of finally having a car offsets any negativity about searching for gas.

The two of us split up, each taking one side of the campground to make the most of our time. I start at the front and decide to make my way back towards the truck. I search through the unlocked campers and cars left to rot, finding nothing of real use in the front. In the back half of the campground I find a gas container with a quarter tank, it's better than nothing. Other than that, I don't find anything.

Joel and I reconvene at the truck after thoroughly searching. It seems his search was more fruitful, he's got two full containers in his hands.

"Where'd you find all that?" I'm not sure how he got so lucky. He just shrugs,

"Was just layin' around." He opens the gas cap of the truck and pours the gas into it. Hopefully this gets us a few hundred miles at least.

I watch as he tosses the empty gas can aside and climbs into the driver's seat. He rubs his hands together excitedly before turning the key in the ignition. The truck makes a few clicking sounds before it finally roars to life with a deep growl. It's music to my ears and I can't keep the wide smile off my face.

"I can't believe it." My voice is awestruck as I climb into the passenger side. The seats are faux leather and the air in here is quite stale and stuffy. Joel begins navigating back to the road as I roll the windows down and let my arm hang out the window.

He drives us out of the campground and we're back en route. The wind whips my hair around in the truck and my eyes close as I take in the feeling. It's been so long since I can remember enjoying driving with the windows down. We drive for miles as I soak in the almost forgotten feeling.

Opening my eyes, I look over to Joel, who has a small smirk on his face. His eyes glance from the road over to me before flicking back to the road. I roll the window halfway up, the air becoming a little much.

"Thought you fell asleep over there." He says. I shake my head and try to tame my hair from the wind.

"No, I slept pretty well. I think we can count that as a five star hotel." I flip down the mirror attached to the visor on the ceiling and use it to part my hair the correct way before glancing over to Joel. He just shakes his head with the same smirk on his face, and then we fall back into our usual silence.

Deciding I can use this time for something other than looking out of the window, I grab my bag and unzip it, grabbing the map. It's torn around the edges from wear, but is still intact enough that it won't disintegrate if it gets folded the wrong way. My eyes find the spot where we just passed through, marked with the star. The stars must mean other groups, so we'll want to avoid those in the future.

I look ahead in our route to see what we'll be coming up on. The next group we should be crossing paths with are the Fireflies. It'll be interesting to see what happens when we get to that point. I know both Joel and I dislike them, but they're also involved in the slaughter of children in QZs. For that reason alone I want to seek them out, just to see if there's any information we can get from them.

But then again, if Joel was there when Marlene died, other people might know about that and it might complicate things. I heavily sigh as I weigh the pros and cons of finding them.

Then again, Joel doesn't have to go with me to seek them out. He's more than welcome to keep going and if he wants, we can meet back up after I'm done. One way or another I know I need to find them, and I need to see for myself the extent of their involvement with the T group. In my mind, there's more to lose from not finding them and not getting every ounce of information that I possibly can. From my estimate, if we keep driving for the rest of the day, we should reach them by tomorrow afternoon. That's assuming we don't run into any obstacles.

I fold the map back up and put it inside my bag and my fingers find the two scraps of paper I found in the fire back near Boston. The word "immune" strikes me, and my thumb runs over the ink. What could this mean? What context was it written in? Does it even have anything to do with this?

Surely it has to, it was among other vital pieces of information like the note and the map. But why would they burn this letter and not the rest?

Joel glances over to see what I'm holding and his eyebrows draw tightly together. He reads the word on the scorched paper and his eyes trail up to meet mine. His jaw sets and he swallows hard. It reminds me of the night we spent in the little suburban home, how he went over all the evidence.

"What is it?" My mouth blurts out before I can stop myself. I have to know why he's acting this way about the evidence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand grab the steering wheel more tightly and his knuckles turn white. But his face relaxes and he shakes his head,

"Nothin'." His subpar answer lingers in the air between us. I have a gut feeling he's not telling the entire truth, and it's really starting to get under my skin.

"It's not nothing. What do you know?" I ask him, my voice firm. My eyes scan over his face for any clues, but his demeanor is cool and collected, save for his death grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know anything." His voice is deep and has a tone of finality, urging me not to continue on. I bite my tongue before I begin accusing him of things I'm not even sure of and look back out the window.

An anxious feeling creeps up my spine as I try to rationalize why he would want to keep information away from me. It's plain as day now that he definitely knows something, and it has to be centered around this one scribbled word. He reacted to it back in the suburbs, and he reacted to it again just now.

If he's willing to go out of his way to save me not once, but twice, and is sincere enough to keep his word about tagging along until Omaha, then what could possibly be so classified that he won't tell me? It just doesn't make sense. And in that moment, the man who once made me feel safe, makes me feel uneasy. Maybe I wrongfully placed my trust in him too soon.

Quietly, I place the scrap of paper back in my bag and zip it up. The bag now rests in my lap and I crane my neck even more so that I can't even see him out of my peripheral vision. My heart thumps in my chest and I try to calm myself. Wild thoughts run rampant in my mind with theories about what's going on, but not one theory is able to check every box of the situation.

As the day goes on, the trip continues to pass in silence. After hours of mulling over my theories, I still can't settle on anything that makes total sense. Everything about his behavior is paradoxical to me. Until I can figure it out, I think it's best if I keep my distance and and keep my mouth shut. He already knows a fair bit about me, but I know practically nothing about him. There's a power imbalance here and that adds to my uneasiness.

Our silence is now filled with tension once more, and my nervously tapping foot is the only thing that fills the quiet cab of the truck. The sun has set and the headlights of this truck are very dim. Truthfully, it's probably dangerous to be driving with such dim lights but I don't care. I just want this truck to get us as far as possible.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep driving through the night. No, he finds a rest area off the highway and stops at it, pulling the truck over the curb and into the woods for cover. As soon as the truck is put into park I get out and sling my bag over one shoulder. My feet can't carry me fast enough as I make my way to one of the small buildings.

I duck behind one and revel in the feeling of being alone, being away from the suffocating silence and tension. My chest deflates with a sigh and I turn my attention towards the dark sky, dotted with bright stars. For a few moments my problems melt away, it's just me and the wide open sky. My fingers wrap around the gold chain around my neck as I gaze at the stars, hoping that somehow the right answer will come to me. Should I stay with Joel? Should I go on my own? I just don't know.

I don't have enough time to dwell on it as I hear Joel's footsteps crunching in the woods next to me. Fixing my posture, I bend over and make it look like I was tying the laces of my boot and not debating whether or not I should take off. As casually as I can, I look up through my eyelashes and see Joel coming out of the woods in front of me, logs tucked underneath one of his arms. He looks at me quizzically, and I think quick to excuse my hightailing.

"Sorry I um, I just had to go." I say, implying that I ran off for the bathroom. He nods his head once and then clears his throat.

"Was thinkin' we could build a fire out here." He gestures to the sidewalk that borders the woods. Like last night, there's a risk to it, but it's not a detrimental one, at least I don't think.

"Yeah, that's fine." I say and stand up from my kneeling position. He walks in front of me, his shoulders tight with tension and I'm not entirely sure it's from hauling firewood.

I stay a few feet back as Joel constructs the fire, much like he did last night. He does it with an expertise that shows how long he's been out here for. Leaning against a nearby tree I chew on my fingernails, my brain unable to let me be calm. Joel lights the fire and he takes a seat on the plush grass, stretching out.

"I can take watch tonight." He offers. While the offer is nice, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. There are several reasons why I should trust him by now, but there's also one major reason why I can't. I shake my head, turning down his offer.

"That's okay, I'm not even really tired. Plus you drove all day." My lie comes quick and smooth. He looks up at me, and I worry he's going to see through my facade. He shrugs his shoulders,

"Doesn't bother me." His voice sounds sincere and I wish I could accept his offer as easily as I did last night.

"I might stay up and plan a little." This isn't the entire truth, but it's not a complete lie either.

"Plan for what?" His brown eyes are illuminated by the fire. Nervousness crawls over my skin.

"Um, just, just for our next stop." I say, deciding that this conversation has to happen eventually.

"What stop is that?" He readjusts his position on the ground so he can look at me easier.

"The Fireflies. We're going to run into them next." I flatly state, waiting for his reaction. Joel's eyebrows shoot up,

"Thought you hated the Fireflies?" His voice is gruff and he sounds irritated. My head nods, agreeing with him.

"I do. And as much as I hate to admit it, I have to talk to them. You saw, their emblem was on that letter. They're involved in this and I can't just pass it up." I feel slightly more confident. He huffs with annoyance and I try to keep my facial expression under control, he can't know how apprehensive I am right now.

"Damn Fireflies." Is all he says, and I think I was hoping for more insight. I decide to leave the conversation there, not wanting to tread on rough waters with him again.

Eventually I take a seat on the grass across the way from Joel. The fire's smoke burns my lungs each time I inhale, but I don't mind it. My thoughts are too occupied with my own internal conflict.

Am I overreacting about what happened earlier? After all, this is the same man who helped me over the barricade, saved me from the perverted men in the town, and insisted he stay with me until Omaha. If his intentions with me were foul, he's had plenty of time to act and he hasn't. But there's something about how defensive he got that's concerning.

My repeating thoughts are interrupted as I hear twigs breaking in the woods behind me. My hand reaches for the curved blade and I'm on my feet in the blink of an eye. There's a shadow moving in the trees, I see it coming closer. Joel stands by my side and pushes me behind him slightly, a knife in his hand as well.

"Don't take another step." Joel's voice threatens. The footsteps stop. It's not an infected. My head turns from side to side to watch for anyone else that may be tagging along with his person.

"I'm just passing through." A manly voice calls back and the footsteps resume. My grip on my knife gets tighter, ready to use it if things go sideways.

"Walk towards me with your hands up." Joel demands. Through the darkness I see the man's hands fly up in surrender and he takes slow steps towards us. I back up so that the man can come to the light, so we can see his face.

He's a young kid, maybe early twenties. His hair is all disheveled, clothes tattered and torn. There's a fear in his eyes as he steps out towards us, like he's never been in this situation before. Raised high above his head, his hands tremble.

"Sit on the ground and cross your ankles." Joel instructs, knife still at the ready. Quickly, the young man nods his head and follows Joel's instructions. I put my knife away, seeing as how Joel has this covered apparently.

"Who are you?" Is Joel's next demand. The kid's eyes raise to meet his.

"Name's Tate." His voice cracks as he talks. From his perspective, Joel has to be terrifying. He's a large man with a knife, of course he's going to be scary. And I'll admit deep down he scares me too.

"What're you doin' out here?" Joel's form is rigid and tense.

"Like I said I'm just passing through." The kid's wide eyes turn to me and Joel snaps his fingers.

"Don't look at her, eyes stay right here." Joel points to his face. The boy nods his head and tears his gaze off of me. The kid's nervousness causes him to keep blabbering.

"I swear man. I'm headed to Pittsburgh. I've got family out that way." Joel shifts his weight, refusing to lower his weapon.

"Pittsburgh is full of raiders and hunters." The kid swallows hard at Joel's words and a look of exasperation comes over him.

"What? No, no that can't be right. How do you know?" Joel sighs and adjusts his knife in his hand.

"Went through there a while ago. Checkpoint's been abandoned. I can almost guarantee that your people aren't there anymore for one reason or another." The kid looks down from Joel's face and I think he might get sick.

I look over what the young man has on him and see that he's travelling suspiciously light. In fact, I don't even see a bag anywhere. If he's travelling all the way to Pittsburgh with nothing but the clothes on his back, he has to be trying to evade something, or someone. Finding my voice, I speak up.

"Where's your stuff at?" Both Joel and Tate look over to me. Joel looks angry and Tate looks confused. Tate's mouth hangs open for a few seconds as he digests the question.

"This is all I have." He confirms my thoughts, which makes me even more curious about why he's out here.

"You're travelling to Pittsburgh with no supplies?" My voice is obviously skeptical. This could be some sort of trap for all we know. Tate's head nods.

"I didn't have a choice. The Fireflies are losing their damn minds, everyone's trying to take charge and it's a mess." His voice seems to calm down as he speaks to me.

"How many are left?" I ask, hoping that there's enough there that someone is bound to know something. Tate shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't know, maybe thirty, maybe less by now." His voice trails off at the end of his sentence and he glances back to Joel, who has not stopped staring him down.

If Tate is fleeing from the Fireflies, he might be more likely to spill what he knows. After all, if he has no loyalty he doesn't have to worry about covering for anyone. Within seconds I'm fishing out the pieces of paper from my bag and I bring them over to Tate. The documents are fanned out in my hands and I sit beside him, letting him look over the materials. His eyes scan over them, reading the instruction note twice.

"What do you know about this?" My voice is low and somber. Tate's eyes meet mine,

"I don't know. This looks like serious shit though. I wasn't high ranking enough to know about stuff like that. No, I was the one who they sent out to kill infected and to be people's bodyguards. But if you get to their base, I'm willing to bet Trevor knows something." His words seem genuine, and I pack all the documents back into my bag.

"Trevor." I confirm and he nods his head. It seems like he's being honest, lies usually aren't that thorough. Standing from my spot beside Tate, I walk to Joel and meet his hard gaze.

"I think we should let him go." I whisper so Tate can't hear. Something tells me that Joel doesn't want him making it out of here alive, but I don't think Tate is going to be any sort of threat to us. Joel's eyes bounce between me and Tate, looking uncertain.

"What if he's lyin'?" Joel asks and I sigh.

"I don't think he is. Look at him, he's scared. Doesn't seem the type to hurt others." I glance over my shoulder at the skinny kid sitting with his ankles still crossed.

"Fine. You can let him go, but you're taking watch if you do." Joel grumbles and brushes past me. I roll my eyes at him before I turn around to meet Tate once more.

"Get out of here." I say, kicking the side of his shoe.

"Really? You're going to let me go?" He sounds shocked, and I nod my head and gesture for him to get going. Tate scrambles to his feet and takes off through the woods again without another word. I hope he finds whoever it is he's searching for, poor kid.

I watch him until I can't see or hear him anymore, and then take a seat across from Joel at the fire once more. He's obviously angry, but I don't care that much. In a passive-aggressive protest, he's turned his back to me to sleep, and I try to make myself comfortable on the sidewalk for another long night of keeping watch.

Part Thirteen