#IF ANY OF THESE LINKS REDIRECT TO THE WRONG THING TELL ME. ITS A LOT OF LINKS

[cacturne]

agreed!! although i think if i had to pick space would be a lot. less scary to me also thank you!! i've been having it so far racking up over 24 hrs in. a short amount of time LOL cleared out most of act 1 save for the mountain pass...

on a semi-related note, are there any mods you'd recommend? probably for my second playthrough and not this one but i think i saw you talk about hairstyle mods before

i 100% agree with you there!! i love the ocean ever so much but it is so, so scary <- guy who quit playing and uninstalled subnautica the second they heard a distant roar in the kelp forest. there is this very like, serene beauty to space. if i wasnt stressed out of my mind due to being constantly reminded of the fact that death is right behind me at all times i would really be able to just sit down and watch everything slowly float in the vast darkness. it seems very peaceful to me.

LMAOO no i feel you so bad when it gets its claws in you it does NOT let go. im glad its all going well!!! >:) mountain pass sounds way more intimidating than it actually is, that warning message is certainly true but dont sweat it too much at the same time, its like any other area!

as for modding, i can certainly hook you up!!!! i have kind of a vanilla+ mindset when it comes to modding any game, so i dont have a ton of cosmetic mods since not a lot of modders tend to hit my sweet spot of it not looking out of place in the game while still looking good. still though, i will give you all my favorites!

ESSENTIALS: the mod manager (this is where youll do everything, its very simple but if you have difficulties theres tutorials and the like)(there used to be another way of modding the game called vortex before the mod manager became a thing but its outdated and much more precarious for your game files and saves to use. mod manager basically replaced it wholesale) mod fixer (basically every mod requires this) script extender (not every mod needs this but a LOT of them do) native mod loader (this one is not essential like the others but quite a few quality of life mods require the native loader, it has a different way of installing so it wont conflict with the mod manager)(basically its like one modders mod loader) achievement enabler (enables steam achievements, this is a native mod)

now that youre set up!

QUALITY OF LIFE MODS:

party limit begone (exactly what it sounds like, the gangs all here) camp event notifications (a lifesaver mod for me, its a tiny bit janky but still really good. on my first few runs i managed to skip most act 1 camp scenes because i didnt long rest enough and didnt know scenes were waiting for me) teleport party to you (exactly what it says. are gale and wyll constantly getting stuck on gaps they can definitely jump with their pathfinding? now you can easily get them to come over by just teleporting them to you. this mod can also be used for cheesing things if you want) improvedui (gives various handy tweaks to the ui in the game, i honestly dont remember what anymore so be sure to read through everything and see if you like it. is often necessary for things like race or class mods since it allows them to add new actions and custom icons and the like) purchasable camp clothes and underwear (allows you to buy every kind of camp clothes and underwear at specific vendors through all 3 acts! great for if you want to give your character a little extra customization early on) show approval ratings in dialogue choices (this mod is of course up to preference but i personally like the transparency, i dont really use it for cheese since playing the game for me is always character first) native camera tweaks (move your camera around in any direction like most games. finally be allowed to look UP. this is another native mod) WASD character movement (exactly what it says. this is another native mod) deity tag activator (tired of clerics being the only bitches allowed to be religious in this game? with this mod any character you make can choose a deity regardless of class and can choose dialogue options related to their deity too!) bhaal deity (an add-on to deity tag activator, this restores the cut bhaal option with dialogue for if you want to be fucked up and evil) transmog enhanced (if you have played final fantasy 14 this is basically the glamour system, if you havent this mod allows you to make your gear look like any other gear as long as you have it while keeping all of the original gears properties, no more ugliness for the sake of stats!) appearance edit enhanced (allows you to use the magic mirror anywhere at any time, also gives you the character creation screen instead of the magic mirror screen allowing you to change race entirely) all items (adds every single item you can own in the game into a single barrel/chest. good for cheating, but i prefer to use it for dress-up after finishing the game with said character or to give new characters an item i think they would have on their person) tutorial chest summoning (the tutorial chest is the chest next to the dead mindflayer that has the item to unlock shadowhearts pod on the nautiloid, many modders that add cheat or meme items into the game put them into the tutorial chest. this is a good mod to have if youre going to install tutorial chest mods so youre not locked out of it after the opening of the game.) dye dye dye (this makes every dye available in the game purchasable at select vendors throughout the acts and if you wish it also adds them into the tutorial chest) no inspiration point cap (tired of only being allowed to reroll four times? dont you want to go apeshit? allows you to have up to 99 inspiration points, works well with unlimited party members mod because youll be racking up inspiration like theres no tomorrow) origin dialogue tags (if youre playing an origin like the origin characters or the dark urge you get unique dialogue for them throughout the game, this mod labels these dialogue options so that you can tell which ones are unique and which ones arent. very handy for me)

COSMETIC MODS

unique tav (allows you to edit things like texture files for unique tattoos or body hair and the like. i personally dont mess with it since im scared of messing with game files but i keep it around just in case) strong female heads (the only head mod i have found that looks decent to me. adds some more masculine heads for humans/elves/drow/half-elves/tieflings) horns of plenty (adds some rather crude but charming and vanilla looking horns for teiflings! i only downloaded it for one specific set tbh but the others are still nice to have around!) simple hairstyles (my one and only hairstyle mod. adds a few simple and very nice vanilla looking hairstyles to the game. the physics on them can be non-existent/weird but i personally can look past it because theyre just that nice) piercing improvements - physics (adds physics to most dangly earrings!!! also adds all the barbarian piercing options and 2 new piercing options for free how kind) karlachs glowing horns enables karlachs horns to glow again, since that was apparently something that was in the files but never turned on. up to preference really!) datamined karlach (adds a different datamined karlach head to her model, but also has an option for her vanilla head with the scarring of her datamined head which i use! i love it lots) karlach makeup remover (she should not be wearing eyeshadow. the mod author also has a makeup remover for almost every other major female character! im just listing only karlach here to keep it brief(er)) astralities glow eyes (allows non-tieflings to have glowy eyes if you select glowy tiefling eyes. also important and recommended to have for the next upcoming mods) feywild eyes (a metric fuckton of new, mystical and magical eyes to use. i love these man) demon eyes (EVEN MORE crazy eyes to use) astralities skintone expansion - natural skin tones (adds a lot more natural skin tones to the game! i specifically got this one for its albanism options astralities wondrous skintones (skin tones more on the fantastical side! really great range) astralities hair color supplements (adds more hair colors!) glitzy horns (some less vanilla looking but gorgeous horns!)

RACE/CLASS MODS

half demon/cambion (adds cambions as a playable tiefling subrace! i havent messed around with them a lot but i have seen people call it a bit buggy at times but it shouldnt mess with anything big) whispers of the divine - aasimar (THE AASIMAR MOD!!! this is the mod my main tav uses i love it so very much. the mod author strongly recommends you use the script extender version if youre on anything but macos (linked directly in the main page) i love this race mod a lot feels very balanced and is just cool as fuck) avariel elf race (adds avariel elves (elves with wings) as a subrace to elves! is also a bit buggy like the cambion mod but once again shouldnt mess with anything) phoenix soul - sorcerer subclass (this mod is super new so its still ironing out bugs and the like, but its a unique and very fun sounding new subclass for sorcerer! i havent given it a whirl yet but i love everything shown on the mod page)

DICE SKINS

dark urge dice amethyst dice underdark dice rosymorn dice morninglord dice

THAT SHOULD BE EVERYTHING!!!! keep in mind these are all my own personal favorites, theres WAAYYY more mods out there and i implore you to scour the nexus yourself for anything you might like!!! hopefully at least two of these pique your interest though!

[blinder-secrets]

False Employment

tommy shelby x maid!reader, 5,900 words

warnings: power play, dominance, nsfw

ao3 link

a/n: this is essentially the second piece in a maid series i’ve accidentally started, read michael’s here <3

When you were eight, you’d told your mother that you were going to be a dancer. Then a dressmaker, a poet, a horse-groomer. As a teen, you’d decided that you’d be a wife, just a wife, who’d raise the kids while your husband was away making fortunes, no doubt. Your mother had been happy enough with that idea, but it had soured on you. After all, you thought, why spend your time looking after others and not yourself?

In the end, though, you’d found work as a maid. A house-servant in black and white, cursed to parole the hallways of an estate that’d never feel homely, or private. The irony of it was not lost on you. Employed to look after people that weren’t even yours to look after, half the reasoning but triple the pay. At least this way, the work you did was profitable, and the money you made was saved in your own name. The catch, however, was that you hated it. And you hated it because you were frustratingly terrible at it. No matter how many times Frances taught you to fold the sheets, you got it wrong. Somehow. No matter how carefully you swept, or cleaned, or shined the child’s shoes, you missed a spot. You always missed a fucking spot. It’s like you were cursed, destined to be the worst possible maid in the Midlands, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The strangest part, of course, was that you hadn’t been fired yet. You’d hardly even been chastised. The most unbecoming maid in the history of housekeeping, and you still had your job. You were still paid more than the industry standard. Despite all you knew about him, it seemed Mr. Shelby, unlike most employers, was endlessly forgiving of his staff; it was only when you started to question why, that you realised that wasn’t entirely the case.

On the Friday, you’d been called to bring tea to the front sitting-room. You’d say it’s one of your least favourite tasks but, honestly, they all sit equally on the list of things that you hate to do. The dishes always clatter on the tray, rattling wildly as you take the stairs from the kitchen. The china is scolding to touch each time you go to pour it. The spout is short, the saucers fragile and ill-fitting. Really, there’s a lot less grace in serving tea, than there is in drinking it, and that day was no different.

‘Your tea, Mr. Shelby,’ you announced, once you’d wobbled through the doorway. The milk had spilt onto the metal, but the cups and teapot had stayed strong, thank God. ‘Where would you like it?’

He wasn’t alone, the aunt and his cousin were waiting with him, but only your cold-faced boss had acknowledged the arrival. He was stood by the window, picking a cigarette from his case, and had paused to give instruction that no-one else would offer. His gaze flicked to you briefly, then over to the low coffee table in the centre. ‘There.’

You obliged with a nod, before crossing the room to set the tray and its precarious contents down. ‘Should I pour you some, sir?’ you asked the cousin, hoping he’d say no, hoping he’d let you return to some other, more menial job. One that at least let you work without an audience. Instead, he nodded, and leant forward to hold one of the tea-cups up. Why he couldn’t just leave it there, on the flat surface, where no spills could do any damage, you didn’t know. He probably thought he was being helpful; tragically, he failed to take into account that you were the clumsiest tea-maid in the house.

The handle stung, as expected, the moment you took hold of it, but you were interrupted before you could even begin to pour.

‘Shouldn’t milk go first?’ he asked, continuing once you looked at him like he was wild. ‘In china, to stop it from cracking?’

‘Oh.’ You stuttered, straightening from your bend with the burning teapot in your hand still. ‘Of course,’ you answered. Of course there was some rule you had forgotten, some high-class superstition about breaking the bone china they could replace so easily. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you smiled, and set the tea down again. ‘Sorry, sir.’

When his cup was filled with an inch of the obviously critically important milk, you tried again to pour his tea. The aunt and Mr. Shelby were talking around you, but you were so focused on the act that their words fell away into rubble, just birds chattering between the trees. You lifted the pot again and poured as steadily as your arm would allow.

From the sudden hiss of breath between his teeth, it hadn’t been steady at all. You’d poured scolding tea onto the rim, the saucer, and finally, unfortunately, onto the pinstripe-stretch of his knee.

‘Fuck,’ you burst, ‘sorry.’ The pot went back to the tray quickly, your hands into the pocket of your apron. You hadn’t realised you’d sworn until it was too late to correct it. Another X against your name, surely. ‘Forgive me,’ you told him, pulling a cloth free to offer it, ‘it’s clean.’ At least, for your sake, you’d remembered that dabbing the stain yourself would be inexcusable.

He took it, sighing, and his mother rolled her eyes so plainly that you couldn’t have ignored it if you tried. ‘It’s alright,’ he said, though his scowl didn’t agree. ‘That’s enough anyway.’

You nodded, leaving him to pat awkwardly at the stain, balancing the cup and saucer in his free hand. What Mr. Shelby thought of the ordeal, you didn’t know. He was behind you, quiet, and impossible to see without turning entirely. The embarrassed heat that lingered in your ears was enough to keep you from trying. The last thing you needed, was another unimpressed look sent your way; you got enough of them from Frances.

When you shifted to face the aunt, she spoke before you could, insisting, ‘I can pour my own.’

You smiled before she’d even finished. ‘Course, ma’am,’ you offered with a shallow curtsey. Anything to get out sooner was welcome, even if it was a dig at your serving expertise.

Straightening fully, you smoothed the back of your dress and spun, facing the windows and the silhouette before them. ‘Will that be all, sir?’ you asked as you met his gaze —which had already been there, waiting. Taking account. He’d been watching you fuck up, yet again, probably wondering how you got the job in the first place. You chewed your lip as he deliberated.  

‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, speaking through the cloud of his cigarette, ‘that’ll be all.’

Why you got off so lightly, made no fucking sense, but you weren’t about to stand there and argue with him. Instead, you dipped your knees again and left. It had felt like he’d watched you until you’d gone out of sight, through the doorway, but that was more likely to be a symptom of your over-thinking. Just jumping to paranoid conclusions like you always did, assuming his eyes had clung to your back until the door had shut them away.

By the next week, you were starting to think you weren’t paranoid at all.

Frances had caught you in the hallway between your room and her own, just as you were heading down for something to eat. ‘Mr. Shelby will be home soon,’ she said, stopping in front of you with a sure knot between her brows.

You watched her undo the tie of her pinafore. ‘Okay?’

‘He’ll need his coat taking, and offer him a drink, not supper.’

You balked. Why was she telling you this? ‘Isn’t that your job?’ you asked, feeling dread settle into your stomach. She was top of the hierarchy, the one he trusted most, you were a scullery maid at best. It’d make more sense for his boy to greet him, over you.

She sighed like you were at fault, and folded the pinafore over her arm. ‘He’s asked for you.’

‘He has?’

‘And don’t speak more than you should,’ she continued, ignoring your obvious alarm. ‘Just, just do as I would.’

But you didn’t know what she did. You never paid attention to what she did. ‘Do you think he wants to speak to me?’ you asked, following as she started towards her room. ‘Am I in trouble?’ Was it finally the chopping block for you?

She turned sharply, causing you to stumble to a halt. ‘I think,’ she stressed, ‘that he wants his coat taking.’ Then her door opened and she shut herself inside, leaving you to stand aimlessly in the hallway.

With little else to do, you made your way downstairs to wait within hearing distance of the front door. It didn’t take Mr. Shelby long to require your services, but it did take just long enough for you to think yourself into a panic. No, not a panic, it was more of a steady confidence. A certainty that he had asked for you, specifically, so that he could tell you to work harder. Better. So that he could get you alone, and threaten a cut to your wages if you didn’t stop pouring tea onto his guest’s laps. It was the only plausible reasoning you could settle on.

When he stepped into the entry-way, your heart was beating hard enough to trick your mind into labelling it as excitement. A twisted bout of adrenaline at the thought of being fired. You’d have laughed if you weren’t trying so hard to be professional, instead, you kept your face serious. ‘Good evening, Mr. Shelby,’ you started, moving from your post to meet him. ‘Can I take your coat?’

You thought you saw his lip twitch upwards, but it was redirected into a short nod. ‘Frances changed the rota,’ he said, though it was obvious. He turned, showing you his back, and you pulled the collar from his shoulders before you could overthink the motion.

‘She did, sir,’ you agreed. Don’t talk too much. Don’t talk too much. ‘Have you had your hair cut?’ you asked, unable to stop once you’d noticed the close shave at the back of his head.

He faced you again, letting the coat peel from his arms until he was separate, and you were left to wrangle the heavy fabric alone. To no surprise, he didn’t answer your question. He didn’t even remove his cap. Instead, he stared, squinting slightly, then held the briefcase out for you to take.

You were running out of hands to be useful with. The folded coat was thick enough to render one arm useless, and now his case occupied the other. ‘Would you like something to eat, sir?’

‘No,’ he answered, too quick to have really considered it. Then he looked down, eyes on the leather gloves he was removing, and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘[Y/n], sir.’

He repeated it once. Rolled it over his tongue and out again like he was testing for its flavour. Analysing its worth, though he had surely heard it a hundred times before.

Your adrenaline had finally been replaced by fragile nerves. The silence felt like an open invite for critique, and you’d rather have it filled with the forbidden small talk than let it begin. ‘Would you like me to fetch Char—‘

‘Have you lit the fire in my office?’ he asked blankly, interrupting you as he lifted his eyes to yours. The blue alone was enough to quiet you. His stare was more intimidating than luxurious; if he had been watching you as you thought he had, you weren’t sure that was a good thing anymore.

‘No,’ you stammered. ‘Should I have?’ It was dark already, but you hadn’t noticed the cold yourself. ‘Should I do it now, Mr. Shelby?’ you corrected, playing catch up on your responsibilities. ‘I’ll put these down.’

He shook his head and put the gloves, together, on top of his coat. Piled it all on you like you were a walking hat-stand. ‘Make sure you have next time,’ he said. ‘It’s winter.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry.’

It didn’t look like the apology meant anything to him, probably because you had rushed it out nervously, rather than sincerely. You didn’t often know what you were apologising for after all, just that you should be, and that you were normally at fault in the first place. So you said sorry quickly, before he could leave. And then, once he had done, turning from you after a final clinging-look, you said sorry again into the absent space he had left behind. Sorry, Mr. Shelby, don’t fire me, Mr. Shelby. I know I’m a terrible fucking servant, Mr. Shelby. He didn’t look back, nor did he ask for you again that evening. From your perspective, that was a win. It meant he hadn’t planned to stage an intervention, or to tell you off like a scorned school master. He had simply wanted you to do your job, well, Frances’ job, and somehow, you hadn’t massively disappointed. A few mis-placed questions hadn’t caused your downfall, and you found yourself hanging his coat with an easy smile. Perhaps you were valuable to him then, or at least acceptable. Perhaps you were employed for a reason.

When he next went away, you made sure to light the fire before he returned. Clever, you thought, well remembered indeed. What you failed to do, however, was time it well enough that it would be lit, burning strong and heating the room, before you had to meet him at the door. You were still knelt by the hearth when he arrived.

He cleared his throat once, from the doorway, and the noise was loud enough to startle you over the snaps of the fire. You sprang from the floor in one panicked burst of energy, turning in almost the same motion, moving faster than you felt you ever had.

‘Oh, Mr. Shelby,’ you panted. ‘Sorry, sorry, I was just finishing the fire.’

He was fully dressed still. Obviously, because you hadn’t been there to pull the outer layers from him as you should have. It wasn’t even a difficult task and you’d seemingly failed on your second try.

‘Have you been there long?’ you asked, hoping that if you kept him talking, and kept his eyes on yours, he would fail to notice the ash on your knees. The grey powdering of your tights and the hem of your dress, dirtied from kneeling too close to the bricks. It could be brushed away easily, but you hardly wanted more attention drawn to it. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

He shrugged, not bothering with a real answer. The nonchalance made you nervous. He could’ve been standing there for seconds, or he could’ve been there for minutes, watching you bent in half, folded in front of the fire as you worked. Whether someone could even be judged on their fire-making skills, you didn’t know. But he seemed the type to be able to judge anyone for anything.

‘Sorry, I should take your coat,’ you started, crossing the room with your hands out.

‘It’s alright.’ He walked past you before you could even reach him, moulding into the study like he was a part of it. ‘I have to go out again, anyway.’

You nodded. He didn’t offer any other instruction, so you just stood there, dirty like a chimney-sweep, gormless like a fucking goose in the river. ‘Should I go, sir?’ you asked.

His case went on top of the desk, his body dropped into the seat behind it. He didn’t look at you, or answer you, he just pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it. You watched him inhale and exhale once before growing tired.

‘There are things I should be doing, sir,’ you said, hoping to sound more apologetic than rude. In truth, you were just bored. Uncomfortable. You couldn’t stop thinking about the ash on your knees.

It definitely wasn’t paranoia that time. His eyes finally found you, in the middle of the room, and drank you in like you were one of his racehorses. The flashy ones that he bought for the sake of money and money alone. You fidgeted under the weight of them, knowing the crystal irises were skimming every part of you that should’ve been ignored. Especially for a maid, for one of his house-servants. Your body should’ve been nothing beneath the rigidity of your uniform, and yet he scooped it out from between the seams, looked at the curves that you were sure had been hidden.

‘Do you live at the house,’ he started, voice low and catching, ‘or at home?’

‘The house, sir.’ You threaded your fingers together, kept them clutched over your pinafore. ‘I share the room next to Frances.’

The smoke pooled from his lips again, trailing after him as he leant back into his seat. He was looking at you down his nose, through his lashes, holding the silence just long enough for it become taut. Sharp enough to make your cheeks warm.

‘And when she hears the bell at night, do you hear it too?’

You frowned, but nodded. The service bells were mounted on the wall between the doors.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘next time it goes, I want you to see to it.’

His gaze was unmoving. Yours had been charmed into the same fate, unable to pull away from him. ‘Sir?’ you said, understanding his meaning, but not believing it in the slightest. There was no innocent reason for him to switch orders like that. The older woman had always covered the night work, as infrequent as it was.

He cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes in one quick pulse of intent. ‘Let Frances have her rest, eh?’

It was either a promotion, or a proposition. You had neither the gall or the desire to ask which. ‘Of course, Mr. Shelby.’

After that, your encounters with him had remained short and indifferent. You took his coat, brought him tea, whiskey, followed orders when he gave them. You’d watched him, watching you, every time, and thought nothing more of it. Or at least tried not to. You never saw him interact with other staff, so you couldn’t dispel the idea that he treated you any different from them; he could’ve held all of his employees under the same searing gaze and you wouldn’t have known. Frances had commented on his favouring of you, claiming ‘he’d ask for you over anyone else’, but she had seemed relieved all the same. She liked her work, but she liked free time just as much. His request to switch you to the night-calls, however, had been a dormant one, an almost pointless one, because he’d never rang. Never asked anything of you once he’d taken supper.

At least, he hadn’t before now, right now. This very moment. You’d been dragged from your sleep by the dull clanging of the service bell, and now you’re hot-footing down the stairs with your pinafore barely fastened. What the allowed time for dressing is, you have no idea. You’re trying to rush, but there’s no way of knowing how long it has been, or how presentable you are. The only comfort is that he’s yet to ring the bell again, so you obviously haven’t been long enough to make him impatient.

The door to his study is shut, but there’s nowhere else he’d be, so you knock once you’re stood in front of it. You hear him cough from the other side, before saying, ‘Come in.’

Right then. Here you go. You take a few steps into the room, just enough to be present, but not intrusive, and force a quiet breath before speaking. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Shelby?’ you ask, starting as he shows no sign of doing it on your behalf. He hasn’t even looked up to acknowledge you.

He’s leaning on the end of his desk, staring into the embers of the once lit fire, with a half-filled tumbler in his hand. His jacket’s off, shirt sleeves rolled and shoved to sit above the elbow. If it weren’t for the waistcoat, still fastened and adorned with the chain of his pocket-watch, he’d look almost scruffy. Off-guard. ‘So,’ he says, ‘you heard the bell, then.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you don’t mind the disturbance?’

‘No.’ Though, if he’d brought you down just to test the mechanism, you would hardly be happy about it. ‘Is that all, sir?’

He snorts, following it with a sip of whiskey. The motion causes the gold band around his bicep to catch in the lamplight, glinting at you. A lighthouse through the dark. ‘You don’t get bored of saying sir?’ he asks, finally flicking his eyes in your direction. ‘You say it more than the others.’

Your brows sink together, frowning before you can help it. You weren’t aware there was any other thing to call him, or that sir had a quota, one that you were seemingly well over. ‘Am I wrong to address you as that, Mr. Shelby?’

Quietly, he stands from his lean and tips his head back to finish the final portion of his drink. You watch his neck against the light, follow the whiskey as it travels down his throat. Once it’s empty, he turns to face you with his arm limp by his side, glass dangling in his palm. ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head half-way, ‘call me what you like.’

You catch a whim in the dim-setting, a spark of courage from the fireplace. It’s like the quiet of the house, the certainty of your solitude together, is daring you to test the bounds of your employee-boss relationship. His lingering pause gives the same effect, his blank stare waits to be challenged.

‘Not Tommy, though, sir?’ you ask, wanting to smirk with it, but missing the moment. Or rather, losing the courage as soon as the name’s left your lips.

His chin lifts a fraction. ‘No, not that.’

Tommy is too personal, too close to him. The faint hope you had, that he’d allow you to say it, is squashed into the rug beneath his feet. Without asking, he holds the glass up, arm straight and pointed toward you. You understand his meaning well enough and cross the room to take it from him.

‘Do you often wake a maid, just to pour your whiskey?’ you ask from beside the drinks cabinet. The decanter is there, ready, un-topped and waiting. You fill his glass a quarter, and then a quarter more after a pause of consideration. It doesn’t seem like an evening for single measures.

He doesn’t answer until you’re back in front of him. ‘No,’ he admits shamelessly, leaving you yet another silence to fill.

‘Just me then, sir?’

He nods. ‘Yep, just you.’

He takes the glass and lifts it for a drink. By the time he’s swallowed, and set it down again, you’re two steps back, waiting in the middle of the rug. Anxious for the next order. You’d hoped that the late hour would’ve made him more accessible, more willing to drop the formalities and pretence of your relationship. Instead, it’s made you all the more aware of them. All the more sensitive to the ladder of power between the two of you, and the way he manoeuvres it. He seems so easy, so comfortable, unapologetic of his status and the benefits that it gives him. He can walk the line without risk of misstepping, because he’s the one who sets it.

‘Do you like your job, [y/n]?’ he asks, sounding as if he knows the answer already.

You chew the reply over in your head. As lucky as you’ve been so far, the outright truth might finally throw you into the cold. ‘I like the company,’ you answer, ‘the people.’

He pushes a laugh through his nose, amused but barely smiling still. ‘Didn’t ask you that.’

No, but you won’t lie to him. ‘I’m terrible at my job, sir,’ you say. He surely knows that as well as you do, maybe that’s the reason for him calling on you. It’s time for the meeting you’ve been dreading. The conversation was here at last. ‘In all honesty,’ you tell him, ‘I don’t know why you’ve kept me on.’

Sighing, he half-sits on the desk again, arms folding across his chest. ‘You think you’re that bad?’

‘Awful, sir.’ The added responsibilities have done nothing to improve your prowess. His extra requests have just given you more things to misplace, more damages to cause. ‘Why have you never said anything?’ you ask, adding a ‘sir’ at the raise of his brow. ‘Most people would’ve docked my wages by now.’

He blinks once. ‘Do you want me to punish you?’

The heat it sends up your neck is scorching, embarrassing. For a moment, you forget that he could mean it plainly, that he could speak as an employer and an employer alone. If he had any other expression, you’d be able to validate that, but he’s stoney as ever, waiting for a response like he’d simply asked for the time. ‘No, sir,’ you manage. ‘I just wondered why.’

He takes a sip before answering, hissing the whiskey between the set of his teeth. ‘You know why,’ he says, watching his hands for once, giving you respite from his stare. ‘You look at me just the same.’

‘I do?’

You don’t know why you’re asking, because you’re already in agreement. The self-indulgent glances you’ve taken of him were for the exact same reason you had hoped he looked at you. It wasn’t judgement, but hunger. You had thought it silly to imagine he felt that way too. Maybe men were men after all, easy to read regardless of status, free to want as they liked, but not without the worry of consequence.

‘I don’t want to misunderstand you, Mr. Shelby,’ you say carefully, speaking slow enough to set your thoughts straight. ‘Why do you employ me still?’

You’d expected bravado in reply, but his eyes are on the glass and his voice is taut. ‘I can’t,’ he states. He knows the reasons as well as you do. The chains that bind him, the ones that keep both of your roles in place. There are rules in this house, things that can’t be changed for desire’s sake and he’s counting on you to respect them; the sheer fact that you’re here, alone with him in the middle of the night, proves that his willpower is faltering. He expects you to make up for what he lacks.

The irony, of course, is that you’ve never been any good at meeting expectations. You feel your heartbeat in your skull, right behind your ears, as you take a step forward. ‘Can’t say,’ you challenge, ‘or can’t act on it?’

Another step and you’re an arm’s length away from him.

He puts the glass down and faces you steadily, like he’s flicked the switch back into place, like he’s got cold, iced water in his veins again. ‘You’ll tempt me in my own house, eh?’ he chides, pushing it through a smirk. ‘So quick to be a whore.’

‘I’m not a whore,’ you answer, ‘I’m a maid.’ You chance it and put a hand to his waistcoat, pinching the edge of it between your fingers. He doesn’t stop you. You’re invincible then, you could do anything in the world, and he still wouldn’t think it reason enough to fire you. ‘You don’t seem like a man to ignore his wants, Mr. Shelby.’ Indulge while you can, taste what you’ve been thinking about for so long. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help,’ you purr, ‘then it’s surely my job to do it.’

He doesn’t say anything, but maybe he’s ran out of words. Maybe they’d just take him further from what it is that he wants. Now that you both know it, there’s no reason to discuss. You may be terrible at housework, but men have never been a challenge, you could never fail at something you enjoyed so thoroughly.

Standing, he takes you by the wrist and pulls your fingers free of the waistcoat. He holds your hand in front of your face like you’re a caught criminal. ‘Go back to bed,’ he says, bluntly enough that you almost turn and run. But you were so close to the impossible, so close to tipping over the line, that adrenaline catches you instead.

‘Why?’ Your brows pinch, your manners forget themselves in the disappointment. ‘You suddenly have morals?’ you ask, teetering on laughter. ‘Shame?’ He could kill a man, but fucking his maid is where his ethics hardened. Where they steeled to a stop.  

His jaw sets. For someone so familiar with staff, and giving orders, he’s struggling to put you in your place. You know it’s coming though, you can see the threat behind his eyes.

‘Are you scared, Tommy?’ you taunt. ‘Worried we’ll be found out?’

It was a risk, but it paid off, and he switches the play so easily into his favour, that the wind is knocked out of you before you can piece together what’s happened. He’d pulled you forward, then past him, so that your thighs are against the edge of the desk and his chest is pressed along the length of your back. His arms are either side of you, palms flat on the wooden top. ‘Is that how you want it?’ he bites, putting the question to your neck. Down the collar of your uniform. ‘Ay? Against the boss’s desk?’

‘If that’s what suits you.’

He puts a knee between yours, pushing your legs just far enough apart to feel like he’s predator and you’re prey. Like your body is his to bend, to set in place and enjoy. ‘What?’ he asks, breath hot and liquored by your ear. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

You clear your throat, willing your voice to strengthen. This was what you’d initiated, after all. This is the side you’d asked to see. ‘If that’s what suits, sir,’ you say again, stressing the ‘sir’ like it’s the key to it all, the fuel under the fire. By the way his breath shudders against you, you’re starting to think it is.

He exhales again. ‘We shouldn’t.’ He’s quiet with it, like the thought had escaped without him realising.

‘I want to,’ you insist. You lean forwards slightly, curving your lower back upwards and into him. ‘You want to, sir.’ It was obvious enough. The extra work, the lingering stares, the hardness growing against the back of your thigh —it all lead to one thing, to wanting, lusting. To favouring desire over anything else.

His hands lift from the desk-top to your waist. Taking the bait, then, making it his.

You turn between them, not caring that the motion has skewed your uniform, twisting the skirt beneath his hands until it’s sat, bunched, at your hips. It would have to be moved eventually, taken off entirely if he had the time. ‘If you take any longer,’ you say, ‘the house’ll wake up, Mr. Shelby.’

‘Yeah?’ He lifts you as he answers, putting you onto the desk, and himself between the spread of your legs. ‘And you’ll have duties to attend,’ he says, looking over you, rather than at you. His gaze is foggy from the need. You hum in agreement, playing the game, following his lead as you’re paid to. When his nose finds the space beneath your earlobe, his lips ghosting the edge of your jaw, you melt. You pour into him like scorching gold. ‘I’ll have to have you now,’ he decides, ‘while you’re off the clock.’ The words rumble out of him, low and careless, shouldered by a kiss.

You close your eyes, holding his biceps to keep you upright. ‘If I’m off duty, should I call you sir, or Tommy?’ you ask, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

His mouth opens against your neck, hot and possessive. His lips drag down to the base of your throat before he replies. ‘Are you a maid,’ he asks, panting into the skin, ‘or a whore?’

A whore, you think. He’d never kiss his wife this way, would never have relations like this with any other member of staff. You purl against him as his hand goes between your thighs. ‘Whatever, sir,’ you breathe, ‘I’m whatever you want.’ Right now, you’re a torched flame, you’re a white hot coal, split apart by the heat. His fingers move like he’s known you before. ‘There,’ you tell him, sighing as he finds that tight bundle of nerves through the cotton. ‘There, sir.’

When he kisses you on the mouth, you’re almost surprised enough to reject it. You had wrongly assumed he would avoid kissing you like a lover, but his tongue swept between your lips, pushing in to find yours, and then the thought had gone entirely. You kiss back like you’ve been starved of it, your arms around his neck to ensure that he’ll stay.

‘I imagined it like this,’ he pants, pulling back to say it into your cheek. ‘From the start.’

Really, you want to ask, right from the beginning? But instead, you moan and curl into him, spine mirroring the path his thumb had taken across your clit. ‘I didn’t,’ you breathe, humming as he repeats the motion. ‘I imagined more fucking.’

His hand pulls away fast enough that you regret saying it, but he speaks so urgently that you don’t have time to mourn the loss. ‘Take them off,’ he says, already starting on the fastening of his trousers. ‘Now.’

You do as you’re told, unclipping the garters from your tights, so that you can push your underwear down and over your knees. He’s back against you before you can shake them from your ankles.

‘It’s just a fuck,’ he says, with one hand on himself, and the other on the bare bone of your hip. ‘Alright?’

You nod, meeting his gaze with the same rushed sincerity. ‘I know.’ You hadn’t doubted that for a second. You’re after the same thing he is: relief. A purge of the tension that he had been building between you, a break from the questioning of ‘what if?’.

‘Just a fuck,’ you repeat, desperate now the heartbeat pulses from your head to your toes. Now it thumps from you, to him. You’re sure he can feel it as he presses into you.

He groans, savouring the sensation, and lets his hands stray to grip your thighs. ‘That’s what you wanted?’ he pants, rocking his hips forward again. ‘That answer your question?’

You lie back, over the newspapers and the letters. Let him fuck you like you’re just another object on the desk. ‘Yes,’ you sigh. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, Mr. Shelby.’ It not only answered your question, but clarified another that you had yet to consider. You knew now, why he employed you still, but you’d discovered why you worked for him, too. Why you kept the job you hated, why you hadn’t quit after failing so many times. ‘It’s this,’ you tell him, ‘it’s for this.’

[suometar]

Indeed, we all have faced the issue of non-functional links. It's inconvenient in daily life, but it has more significant concequences than we ever thought of.

This article made me really understand for the first time how valuable printed information actually is and WHY we should get back into printing books as soon as possible.

Because as a ton of information is stored only online and no more in printed format, it is easy to get rid of it just by breaking the link that used to work. This happens in most cases simply by accident. But not always.

Views on this post are based on my experience as a professional web designer since early 2000's.

HOW THIS HAPPENS

URL structures are renewed (and thus broken) usually when a website is renewed or updated to meet modern standards. It is very destructive especially when the whole content management system (CMS) is changed. Usually it means that the whole way the system handles the content changes and with it the url structure.

For example that the old url domain.com/articles might after the update be domain.com/blog instead. When this happens - poof - all your old urls are all gone - even though the content might still exist.

WHY IT IS BAD

What makes url changes bad is that the old urls are still linked to from other websites. Thus all references from outside the website get broken and the information is no longer accessible from outside the website itself. This is unless the website owner makes sure the old urls are redirected to the new ones (when you type domain.com/articles to your browser you're redirected automatically to domain.com/blog)

In most cases the url change is an uninteted consequence the organisation doesn't recognise during the renewal process.

It can also be deliberate. This however isn't always just url changes but something far more malicious.

ONLINE CONTENT AND REMOVAL REQUESTS

The most vunerable content of all is the information that keeps our societies together, allows its development and last but not least allows freedom of thought and speech. These would be for example legal documentation and scientific research and access to information that you can use to educate you and allows you to make educated conclusions of the world.

All of this is mostly influenced by the way we nowadays find it. Come in Google.

Google is deliberately using algorithms that chooses the content you find. In most cases it actually offers you the information that is current and fits your search terms.

Unless the search terms are somehow controversial. Suddenly the given results on the first pages at least are no longer impartial but instead the kind of content Google WANTS you to see. This is directly affected by Google being a business instead of impartial search engine devoted to sharing and finding the information you in fact are looking for.

That is one thing.

But another is that Google is deliberately removing information from its search index (the database they use to crawl and quickly retrieve online content to respond to the search terms). Yes, in most cases this is information that is right to be removed, such as child porn. Unfortunately they also remove content, such as legal and controversial scientific content, based on court orders.

WHY REMOVING INFORMATION BASED ON ANY ORDERS IS BAD

And as we all know, everything that is online can be very easily forged. This opinion post on Washington Post tells about a case where court ordered an online service (Yelp) to remove a business review by a client. Unfortunately the lawsuit was apparently made by someone else than the business itself (though in their name).

While that case is not directly related to Google the Lumen project (which is dedicated in listing of online removal requests) lists several similar requests made directly to Google and to other online services. In 2016 a researcher found out that in fact a large number of the requests were outright Photoshop forgeries.

The online services have a hard time in knowing what is in fact real order and what is not. And THIS is what makes the removal based on requests problematic.

It gives the opportunity to forge a removal order to basically anyone who thinks some information should be removed for ANY reason. Google or Bing don't ask the court directly if the documentation is correct but instead they trust the filer of the request to be honest in their request.

WHY WE SHOULDN'T TRUST SEARCH ENGINES BLINDLY ANYMORE

We trust search engines to give us the correct information. That is basic trust people have developed towards search engines - because they USED TO BE trustworthy. They weren't maximazing profits but instead actually interested in helping information sharing.

Free and unlimited information sharing is the core on which the whole internet was built on.

If anyone can say that this or that content is solely in my opinion bad or unwanted and I want it removed from search engine, this severely disrupts information being freely available to those who seek it.

Thus it crumbles the whole basis of the internet.

WHAT CAN YOU DO TO FIND THE INFORMATION YOU ACTUALLY ARE LOOKING FOR

With outdated and broken links:

Most likely the place where the broken link is covers a certain topic. Use the topic and any references you have on that place to the broken link source and search it with a search engine. Most likely the information IS still online - the old links to it just aren't working anymore.

Yes, it takes time and effort. But nothing worth doing is EASY. We just have unfortunately forgotten that.

To find the information you need a trustworthy search engine:

To do the research the most effective thing you can do is to either

Change your primary search engine to an independent and open sourced one - such as DuckDuckGo.com that doesn't decide for you what information you should find, OR

Start comparing the results of both Google AND of an independed search engine, - such as before mentioned - then read the results, and make up your mind about the subject.

As mentioned, none of this ia EASY to do. But we need to take responsibility on how we view the world AND that we stay educated.

WHY WE SHOULD GET BACK TO PRINTING BOOKS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

Printed books have been the way to preserve and relay information throughout generations for thousands of years. The format is superior: as long as it's stored in a dry and cool place and printed/written on proper paper it is usable even after a very long time. To use it doesn't require anything else but the ablity to read the characters and some light to be able to see the text - or images.

But the books aren't valuable as itself unless you find the ones you're seeking for. You need a library system and caretakers for the information - librarians.

Both of these combined you have an equivalent to a search engine - but in physical format. In the format that information has been stored and shared until this day.

When the information is solely online it is constantly vulnerable to significant threats:

losing electricity

losing the links to the content

curation of information flow based on profit calculations

the whims of someone who thinks it's wrong information and shouldn't be available.

Simply a worldwide electricity disruption - caused for example by a powerful emp or a solar flare - can make finding information online impossible and at worst, destroy it.

Yes, printed books can be burned. But when enough books are distributed worldwide the information remains physically somewhere.

And that is where printed books are far superior to anything that is stored online.

The search for the information might be far more difficult with printed books but at least it's always somewhere and at least some of it remains. It is not undestructable but you can always copy them.

Saving the information and stories in physical format has been done since humans developed the skill to relay information by drawing and later by writing. A lot of it all is still available today.

If online sources are destroyed or made impossible to find we have nothing.

[artificialqueens]

Better Than Revenge, Chapter 1 (Multi) - Joley

ao3 link

Jan put her hands on the back of Jackie’s chair, trying to read over her shoulder as if it would help one way or another. “Still looking into the Sarah Jones case?” she asked, resting her chin on the top of Jackie’s head.

If it were anyone else, Jackie would’ve shooed them away, but she didn’t have it in her to deny Jan’s presence. “Just about finished,” she assured. “It seems pretty cut and dry, the court case is well-documented. It’s yet another instance of a straight, white boy getting off with a slap on the wrist. Did ninety days in jail and another month of community service. Sarah came to the right people.”

“She getting any restitution?”

“Not a dime,” she shook her head and clicked her tongue in disapproval, then turned to face her. “Are you taking on this one?”

Jan looked over her shoulder into the other room. “Nah, Gigi’s on this one, I have a few cases to follow up on.”

There was a beat of silence where Jan was unaware of Jackie’s internal debating before finally asking, “so, you think you’ll be free tonight?”

She bit her lip, a smirk twitching at the corner. “You missing me in your bed already?”

Jackie turned around in her chair, looking up at Jan. “You’re a cocky little brat, aren’t you?” she teased.

Jan braced her hands on either arm of Jackie’s chair. “But am I wrong?”

“I can’t really argue when I’m eye-level with your tits.”

“Well, I–” her retort was cut off by an alarm on her phone going off. “Ah, fuck, my three o’clock case is gonna be here any minute now. I’ll be in my office if you need me, gorge,” she winked before turning on her heel and making her way down the hall.

Jackie turned back to her desk, exhaling deeply as she allowed her heart a chance to return to its normal rate. But it wasn’t long before she sensed that once again, she wasn’t alone, and groaned. “Don’t say it.”

“She has you whipped,” Nicky observed matter-of-factly. “It would be cute if you weren’t such a stubborn bitch about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m an Aries. Stubborn bitch is my default setting. Ask Denali, she can vouch for that.”

Nicky furrowed her brows. “Where is Denali anyway? She left before noon to meet with a new client, she’s usually back by now.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Jackie assured, “she knows how to take care of herself.” Before they could question her whereabouts any further, her office phone began to ring. “Let me take this,�� she said before answering in her ‘business voice’, “Karma Inc, Jackie speaking. How may I help you?”

——

It wasn’t uncommon for Denali or the others to make house calls for consultations. Oftentimes, someone’s privacy or safety could be at stake. So, she didn’t bat an eye as she made her way to the address listed in the email. But when she saw that she was at a scarcely used office building, her suspicions grew.

With her hand on her taser, Denali cautiously entered the building and looked around. The email said to wait in the lobby – not that she planned to wander around.

“Denali?”

The voice startled her from her thoughts and she turned to see where it was coming from. She then saw a tall woman with auburn hair and pale skin approach her. “You’re Rosé?”

“That’s me,” she confirmed before leading Denali into an empty office. “Listen, this is going to sound like bullshit, but I have a case for your organization. It’s of critical importance and could be huge for you guys as well.”

Denali’s brows furrowed as she eyed her suspiciously. “Who are you, exactly?”

Rosé strummed her fingers against the desk. “I’m a former detective and–”

“Hey, what we’re doing is completely legal!” she cut in, eyes narrowing in a glare. This wasn’t the first time she felt inclined to defend what her group did. What she considered their group was an ethical version of mercenaries (which may seem like an oxymoron, but that was beside the point).

They pick up where law enforcement, the justice system, or even society itself failed. When someone came to them seeking revenge on someone that wronged them, they took it seriously. The vetting process that Jackie would put each case through could take days depending on the circumstance. Bottom line, their goal was to help people who had exhausted their options and she would be damned if she let some cop get in the way of that. “If this is some sort of sting, I’ll have you know I have an attorney and I won’t–”

“This isn’t a sting,” she replied calmly. “I’ve seen the justice system fail far too many people to stay within it. That was why I left, but I have unfinished business. There are people out there that have hurt others that’ll never see justice and could cause even more harm. That’s where you and your associates come in.”

Denali went from defensive to intrigued in a second flat. “So, you want us to give the victims some closure by hunting down criminals? And do what, specifically? Because a lot of what we do doesn’t cause long-term damage… physical damage, anyway.”

Rosé grinned. “That’s where I team up with you guys. I can arrange for Karma Inc. to have the proper training you would need to be at the level of effectiveness we would need here.”

“We?”

“I have been working closely with some of the victims of the people we’re after. This isn’t going to be easy, but from what I understand, I’ve come to the right place.”

Denali strummed her fingers against the desk as she mulled it over. She would need to run it by the rest of the group, but she couldn’t fathom them not being on board. That’s why they had come together – to right wrongs in ways only they were able to. “You certainly have.”

——

“This is exciting!” Jan chirped, bouncing a bit in her seat. “We’re gonna be like actual crime fighters now. Think of all the things we’ll be able to do once we have all the skills for it! Maybe we should get matching leather jackets or something.”

“Take a breath, Bubbles,” Mik chuckled, then turned his attention back to Denali. “So, tell us about this detective.”

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Denali’s lips and she began absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger as she spoke. “She’s like six foot, auburn hair, beautiful blue-green eyes, big ti-”

“That is not what he meant, you horny dumbass,” Symone cut in. “Also, I’m pretty sure you just described Jolene, like, from the song.”

“Hey!” Denali pouted, then tilted her head in thought. “Actually, now that you mention it…”

Gigi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Focus, Denali. Please just tell me you handled yourself professionally and weren’t staring at her ‘eyes’.”

“Give me some credit here, Jesus,” she rolled her eyes. “I was fine, I wouldn’t volunteer for something just to appease a pretty face. I take this shit just as seriously as the rest of you.” Once she’d taken a breath to refocus herself, she continued. “She’ll be coming over tomorrow to meet with us, then once we work out the details, we’re gonna get started on combat training. Well, you guys will,” she smirked at the last part.

“Lest we ever forget your black belt,” Nicky chimed in. “Did you brag to her about that?”

Denali scoffed. “I prefer the element of surprise, thank you very much.”

Nicky shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

As much as the group liked to joke around with each other, the seriousness of their new mission never left their minds. They enjoyed their work, but they took everything seriously. It was people’s lives, their mental and physical health. It was their safety and their future and they knew how much power and responsibility came with their mercenary work. But it fulfilled each of them in their own way - they didn’t end up doing this by accident, after all.

And they all made their feelings clear when they spoke to Rosé. Denali had texted her the address of their headquarters and led her inside to their main meeting room. “Everyone, this is Rosé. Rosé, this is Nicky, Symone, Mik, Jan, Gigi, we’re the mercenaries. And this is Jackie; she does all of the research, tech, paperwork… basically, the glue that holds us together.”

“I’m very excited to meet you all,” Rosé replied in greeting, clasping her hands together. “I know this may seem like a heavy task, I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“I’ve got a question,” Symone chimed in. “I saw the numbers you sent us. Who, exactly, is funding this endeavor?”

“It was somewhat of a crowdfunding endeavor,” Rosé explained. “But it turned into something much bigger. The community of people affected by the people we’re tracking down is dedicated and pulled in resources almost in excess. Rest assured, we can live up to those numbers.”

The answer satisfied Symone, who nodded in acceptance. “Alright,” she cracked her knuckles, “what’s the next step from here?”

Rosé’s face cracked into a grin. “From here, we get you guys into training. I have a combat specialist and range master on standby to help you guys prepare for as many possible scenarios as we could think of. This will take some time, so we’ll work with your schedules.”

“I’ll email you that,” Jackie nodded. “The rest of the day is open if you guys want an introductory session or something.”

They all looked at each other, slowly nodding before Jan, speaking for the group, said “we’re in, let’s at least get a taste of what’s to come.”

“We don’t need to know what you and Jackie are doing tonight, babe,” Gigi teased, earning a glare in response.

After that, the group took the twenty-minute drive to the private gym they would be training in. It was spacious and clean, not having an overabundance of exercise equipment. Most noticeably, there was a boxing ring towards the back of the space. “Any of you guys ever box before?” Mik asked casually.

Most of them shook their heads, save for Symone who shrugged, “a little bit in college.” She looked over at Denali, “what, you aren’t secretly a heavyweight champion on top of your blackbelt?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner,” Denali retorted, brushing her hair off her shoulder.

“Mercenaries,” Rosé redirected everyone’s attention. “This is Jaida, military trained in hand-to-hand combat. There’s no one I’d trust more to whip you all into shape.”

While most of the group had reactions ranging from neutral to excited, Nicky looked like she had just seen a ghost. Her eyes went wide, her face paled, the beating of her heart drowned out anything else Rosé was saying. There was no way, she thought. It had to be a coincidence – the universe doesn’t just align like that in real life.

But if Jaida shared those sentiments, she didn’t let them show – something that went hand-in-hand with military training, no doubt. Though it seemed that she was actively not looking at Nicky, her unwaveringly stoic expression seemed focused to her left, where Jan, Mik, and Denali were. “Alright,” she said once Rosé had finished her introductory speech, “I’m gonna work with each of y’all one-on-one to get a read on your skill level,” she looked the line-up over and tilted her head. “I’ll take the ginger one first, the rest of you start warming up.”

While Gigi left with Jaida, Jan turned to Nicky with a concerned expression. “You okay? You look kinda… sick. Do you want some water or something?”

“I’m not sick,” she assured, but let Jan lead her off to the side anyway. “I just think I might be going a bit crazy.” There was hesitation as she worked herself up to being honest – this was Jan, if there was anyone she could confide in, it would be her. “The instructor. She looked familiar… like the girl. You know, the girl.”

Jan’s expression went from confusion to wide-eyed realization over the course of the next few seconds. “Oh my gosh, her? Are you sure?”

Nicky shook her head. “I do not think I can be… she didn’t react at all. But she might just have a hard façade. I am sure the military helped with that.”

“What’re you gonna say when it’s your turn?”

“What can I say?”

Jan pressed her lips together as she wracked her brain, only to come up empty. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I get it, this is a lot to process at once, especially if she is who you think she is. Maybe don’t even bring it up yet if you’re not ready.”

Nicky sighed, resting her head against the wall. “I guess that’s the best option,” she agreed halfheartedly.

By the time it was Nicky’s turn, her nerves had subsided. Whatever Jaida’s reaction to her was, she was sure she could handle it. “Hi. Um, I’m Nicky and–”

Jaida cut her off by firmly cupping her face and kissing her hard and for as long as her lungs would allow. “You fuckin’ think I wouldn’t recognize you? Come on, Nicky.”

It took a moment for Nicky’s brain and mouth to reconnect, for her head to stop spinning. “It’s been fifteen years,” she whispered in her weak defense. “I didn’t think… I never thought…”

“Neither did I,” she assured gently. “But here we are. We can talk later, we gotta get this assessment done before Rosé bitches at me.”

——

It had taken another few days for the details surrounding the first case to come together, and it would take longer than that for it to be put into action. But as it progressed, they all became more and more invested, and Rosé was thrilled to see her ideas, her seemingly far-fetched concepts, starting to take form.

“I’ve been working with one of the victims for this case very closely, I think it’s important to have someone like her on board,” she was explaining. “Mik,” she prompted, “I want your job in this to be working with her, I think you’ll handle that best.”

Mik tilted his head. “Sure, but based on what?”

Rosé shrugged. “Being a detective, you pick up on the ability to read people, you know, get a sense of their personalities. I think yours will balance with hers, and that’s going to be a necessity.”

“Believe it or not, one thing we’ve learned doing this is empathy. Not that we weren’t before, but this shit like, really bonds you with people,” Mik remarked.

“Definitely,” Jan agreed, “I’ve made connections with people through the process of getting them their revenge that I’ll have forever.”

Denali nodded, “I got invited to a client’s wedding. Honestly, I forgot she even hired us, I just see her as my friend now.”

Rosé beamed broadly as she listened to their anecdotes. This was what she had hoped to find in her previous career, to help people that needed it and solve problems. She wanted to connect to her community even when she was rather high-ranking. But it ended in frustration and hurt time and time again. Part of her almost envied the gang, how they had managed to achieve this all on their own. More than anything, however, she was happy to see it happening. “Can I ask you guys something? How did this happen? Like, what inspired you guys to come together to create this enterprise?”

“We’ve all got our backstories, gorge,” Mik chuckled dryly. “Took a while for us to all find each other, but we all had that in common.”

“What, that you all took revenge in your own lives?”

All of them nodded in confirmation. “You gotta start somewhere, right?” Jan hummed.

Rosé leaned forward in interest. “So… Can I hear them? Your stories?”

The group exchanged glances with each other, then nodded. “Buckle up, Detective,” Gigi warned, “this is going to be one hell of a history lesson.”

[sign-from-god-complex]

Self-Control

Summary: The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and though Virgil has come all this way he’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other—so much can change in 15 years; so much has changed in 15 years.

Though, maybe things haven’t changed quite as much as Virgil thinks.

(AKA, a past-punk moxiety AU)

Pairing: Moxiety!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, homophobia and nondescript injury. Vague allusions to past abuse (or at least mentions of terrible parental figures). Brief discussion of a parental figure having died.

AO3 Link

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It isn’t at all the place Virgil imagined for him. The flower pots all sit in a row on the steps, red ivy climbing up the fence like spider webs and a garden hose curled up on a perfectly manicured front lawn. Everything about it is picturesque—almost to the point of insanity—and as a butterfly floats by and lands delicately on a ladder leaning onto the fence from the backyard, Virgil wonders what in the world could have changed Patton so drastically to have led to this.

There’s an image, in his head, of teenage rebellion—of 2 am milkshakes and stolen bicycles, of broken glass and laughter, so much laughter, as they took advantage of what time they had left to live. It doesn’t fit in with this pastel blue sky in this pastel blue neighbourhood full of pastel blue people but he knew that it wouldn’t. He knew things would be different.

Though, that doesn’t make it all that much easier to comprehend.

Vaguely, Virgil hears the sound of excited squeals coming from the yard and he ducks his head over the fence just a bit, catching sight of a young girl flying off of a trampoline at a hundred miles an hour—hair a mess and grin bright.

The kid must be Patton’s—it’s unmistakable, that dark skin and reckless look, like she’s ready to take the world on at any moment—and Virgil can’t help but remember the nights the two of them spent drinking and talking and vowing to never tie themselves down to anyone or anything. 

He supposes no one really does know what they want when they’re young.

It takes Virgil a while to gather up the courage to knock—he’s all too aware of his leather jacket and patches, his dyed hair and piercings. He couldn’t feel more out of place in this suburban neighbourhood and he hadn’t thought that around Patton he could ever feel out of place.

In the end, though, the choice is taken out of his hands. The young girl throws open the door, clearly looking to haul ass across the street to the park—the kind of place he and Pat would have smoked, once upon a time—but is stopped short as she notices Virgil standing in her way. There’s a moment where he’s afraid she’s going to scream or cry or something else he would have no clue how to deal with but instead, she just grins cheekily.

“Dad!” she yells, barely turning her head to face the soft white interior of the house, “There’s a man here for you!”

The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and for a moment Virgil is so afraid that he’s gotten the wrong house or that Patton won’t want to see him and though he’s come all this way he’s struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other; so much can change in 15 years.

“Riley, what do you mean? What ma-”

And then, there he is.

His face is void of any of the makeup he used to wear, his hair faded from turquoise to its natural black and left curly in a way he wouldn’t have been caught dead with once. And, over the top of a graphic t-shirt displaying some characters Virgil doesn’t recognise and unripped light-wash jeans, Patton had thrown a familiar blue flannel.

Virgil remembers that flannel, worn under heavy coats to help fight the evening windchill, tied around Patton’s waist as they scaled fences just to see if they could and left in a pile on the floor in his room as they finally escaped back to comfort and warmth. Honestly, he’s just surprised it still fits.

Patton does nothing but stare at him for a moment, his lips parted in shock and his eyes big and wide and god, looking at him now is like falling in love all over again.

“Virge?” he breathes, a melody of disbelief in his voice. Virgil can’t exactly blame him—it isn’t as if he’s someone Patton was expecting to see.

Virgil rubs over the fabric of his jacket, a nervous tick he’d had even back then. “Hey, uh… surprise?”

And in an instant, has Patton pitched forward right into his arms. Virgil catches him—of course, he catches him, he’ll always catch him—and Patton laughs, displaying some level of joy Virgil hadn’t known he’d needed to hear until now. He can feel Patton breathing against his neck as they hold each other and, distantly, the sound of light footsteps echoes away and up the stairs.

They pull apart, eventually, the separation like trying to peel a sticker off of a concrete wall—the easiest kind of graffiti to enact while still being tricky to remove. The distance Patton puts between them seems almost reluctant and Virgil wishes he had the courage to tell him to stay.

“What are you doing here?” Patton asks. It’s soft, like the white fuzzy carpet of his new home and Virgil realises suddenly he’d been so caught up in him that he’d forgotten that this him wasn’t the same.

Patton had always been soft but not soft like this. He’d been soft in redirected conversation and distractions, in Virgil’s favourite TV show on in the background and stolen chocolate bars in his pocket, guiding hands mimicking steady breathing. This Patton seems soft around the edges—worn down, almost—and Virgil feels those 15 years as more of a lifetime.

He doesn’t answer the question—truthfully because he’s not sure how, not sure where to start with the mess of events and near-misses and regrets that finally brought him here to Patton’s doorstep—and instead replies with one of his own. 

“My mom died. Did you know that?” It’s a stupid thing to ask, they hadn’t spoken to each other in 15 years, there was no way he could have known. Virgil asks it all the same though. “I have her money now. Didn’t write me out of the will even after everything we went through. Guess she didn’t want how much she hated me and my “lifestyle” to come out even after she’d kicked it.”

Patton just looks at him. There’s something sad in his eyes, maybe, something regretful or sympathetic, something holding years worth of apologies and love confessions in not so many words that every night they'd pretended they hadn’t said.

Maybe not, he isn’t sure. He’s never been very good with stuff like that. 

“You owe me a party,” Virgil continues impulsively. Patton grins and shakes his head and the urge to kiss him is so strong for a moment Virgil can’t breathe. “You promised me when she was dead and I didn’t have to worry about her anymore we’d have a party. With cheerio sausages and expensive liquor and-”

“Sparkling juice and bad karaoke,” Patton interrupts, “I remember.”

Nobody speaks. Patton doesn’t invite him in and Virgil doesn’t ask for fear of being turned away. 

He knows there’s an element of worship in the way he looks at Patton. It’s worship like the way farmers pray for rain in a drought, worship like how sailors are drawn to the rough turn of the sea and worship like teens relishing in the night when they’re bored and alone and angry, yearning for freedom that only comes in years they feel they don’t have left.

But now, dark eyes gazing at him and breath catching in his throat, Virgil thinks maybe he isn’t the only one who feels it.

“I have a kid now, you know?” Patton asks and Virgil knows instantly that question isn’t about the party but everything that comes after it—all of the hundreds of possibilities that stem from this decision that neither of them can quite voice out loud, “Single parent. I made a lot of bad choices in those 15 years—gave myself away to a few people who didn’t deserve it, maybe—but she’s… helped. I want to be better for her.”

Virgil nods. It’s a little hard to reconcile teenage Patton with this one but he tries anyway. He has to; he owes him that much.

(In truth, he owes him so, so much more than that but right now this is all he feels he can give.)

“Yeah, uh, Riley, right? Seems like a sweet kid, if not a bit mischievous.” Virgil smirks slightly, somewhere between teasing and nostalgic. “Kind of like you were.” 

At that, Patton grins and he laughs and it feels right—feels like early morning rainfall and crackling log fires, like the burning in your lungs as you run and the way your eyes slowly drift shut against your will when you’re up too late, like every ending and beginning in just a moment. 

He shakes his head again, almost affectionately chastising and there’s a stuttering of Virgil’s hand as he goes to reach out, to brush a strand of hair away from Patton’s face but stops himself halfway through.

Patton doesn’t seem to notice. Virgil once thought Patton never noticed—never saw the longing in his eyes and the flushed red of his cheeks as they sat side-by-side on a park bench in the middle of winter, running from the heat of harsh words and high expectations.

He wonders if maybe that was naive. 

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure to raise her right,” Patton jokes and his smile is amused—fond and familiar like the worn leather of Virgil’s jacket between his fingers, “If she’s not questioning authority and getting me called down to the office at least once a term then I’m doing something wrong.”

With that, there’s a flash—just a moment—of principal visits and angry rants, of cutting class to sit with the other in the silence of the school office and knowing, that outside of the two of them, there was no one else to come. And he thinks of Patton—this Patton, not his Patton—taking up the empty space of that office with kind reassurances and defensive words, protecting and protecting and protecting, fighting for Riley the way he had Virgil.

Parenthood suits Patton more than he’d first thought, perhaps.

“Ah, office visits.” Virgil nods sagely and can’t resist the quirk of his lips as Patton giggles. “A hallmark of a punk child. Next thing you know she’ll be dyeing her hair, running off to the park in the middle of the night to meet up with boys.”

It’s obviously a joke but still, Patton quietens, taking on a more contemplative look. It seems as if he’s remembering something and Virgil needs, all at once, to make sure he’s more to Patton than simply that expression on his face in the midst of just another day.

“Yeah,” Patton finally says, “Yeah, she was thinking purple actually.”

Virgil doesn’t reach up and drag a hand through his own purple hair but it’s a near thing. He hums—soft and low. “Good taste.”

A heavy silence rings in his ears—an echo of all the memories they share and all the memories they don’t, a collision of black and pastel blue on a canvas already painted with teenage angst and first love—and Virgil can't stand the way it feels like it may be too much to overcome. It isn't; he won't let it be.

He takes a step closer and Patton doesn’t move away, just lets Virgil crowd him against the doorframe till their chests are pressed together and each shuddering breath is a joint effort.

“I’d like to get to know her. If you’ll let me,” he murmurs and he’s so close that he can hear Patton’s heartbeat pick up as he slides a hand up to brush at the strands of hair against Virgil’s neck.

The air between them is tense and pulled tight—gazes tracing over freckles and foundation, their skin warm with each point of contact and the rushing of blood in Virgil’s ears drowning out the pounding of his heart. Each second that goes by without comment feels to Virgil like sinking into quicksand, like fingers losing their grip on the edge of a building and threatening to let him fall.

But, before he can draw away, throw up his walls and stumble his way through apologies like they’re nothing more than kids again, Patton tugs him forward and, softly, he brings their lips together.

The kiss is a teenage fantasy come true, the culmination of every moment—under streetlights or under blankets or under nothing more than the cover of night itself—where Virgil longed to reach out and tell Patton that he wanted to kiss him until the world faded away and all that he could focus on was the taste of cherry red lipstick and the joy and love pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat.

It's the comfort in late-night knocking, Patton taking Virgil in and patching him up and holding him as he cries because he has a mother that doesn’t love him and a father that’s always absent and a world that doesn’t care, muttered reassurances a quiet backdrop to his sobs.

It's the warmth in drinking their way through meagre retail paychecks, Patton’s soft touches like fire against his skin and the thread of restraint holding Virgil back from blurting out a love confession worn down to something as thin as a spiderweb and just as delicate.

It's the exhilaration in grocery store runs with no money and bags filled with spray paint cans, their gloved hands clasped tight as they race against the biting evening wind, giving in to the urge to let out a cry of victory that bounces off the empty alley walls.

So, yes, it’s the culmination of years of pining but it’s more than that too. It’s an apology, it’s acceptance and it’s an offer of a future, to stay here with them. 

“I think I’d like that,” Patton gasps as he pulls away and Virgil’s so enamoured even after all these years that he barely knows what to say, “For you to know her, I mean. She’d like you. She’s like you, or at least the way you used to be—always a bit loose with self-control.”

Virgil doesn’t tell Patton that all his self-control had been going towards keeping himself from telling him he loved him. He doesn’t think he’d know how.

Slowly, Virgil blinks and he nods and it’s all he can do to keep himself standing as Patton beams up at him with a smile reminiscent of stars colliding—bright and beautiful enough to take his breath away. And suddenly Virgil feels like maybe he can fit in here, that maybe he can fit in anywhere he needs to if Patton keeps looking at him like that.

He smiles back, smaller than the one he’d received but the way Patton’s eyes light up makes Virgil feel like maybe that doesn’t really matter. “Okay, yeah. I want that; I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Patton parrots and he’s barely holding back giggles, Virgil can tell. It’s okay though because he feels it too—that sense of happiness and disbelief that has almost no other way to present itself—and giving in feels more like an inevitability.

So, laughing and hands joined together, Patton pulls Virgil inside to the soft white of his suburban home. And he closes the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @welpweregonnadie @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @harleyquinnamiright @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree @tired-and-probably-crying .

[sims2packrat]

File Hunting Tutorial

In this tutorial I’ll be going through some file searching methods I’ve been using to find lost/hard to find files. I’m sharing this so you too can get good at using your google-fu and expand the list of useful sites and sources to help.

I started writing this already last year and had it saved in the drafts and then forgot all about it until vegan-kaktus noted that it’s still in the drafts. So I gave it one last poke and it’s finally ready to be posted. Consider it a parting gift from me (digi) It’s really long so the rest is under read  more which, hopefully, should show up right after this row, happy reading! :)

1. File uploaded to Dropbox:

Oh no, the link is dead! What to do? Well there are two things you can do:

Slap that link to archive.org - sometimes if you’re lucky it has it archived and you can download through that. (not often but it’s always worth a try)

Look at the url and find the filename, for example:

highlighted above is the filename, now copy that part and slap it to google and if you have any luck somebody already has reuploaded it somewhere. If not then you still at least have the file name to help with the search.

2. I have picture of the thing, can I use that?

If it’s from the original upload that can be useful, now open google’s image search and hit this:

paste/upload your picture and if you have any luck you’ll get hits with the same picture, those are occasionally reuploads of the file or maybe even the original source. Sometimes this is useless though, google might just give you its best guess at what the picture shows and it’s pretty much always wrong. 

Additionally, you can try other search engines since they give different kinds of results, Yandex has positively surprised me few times when google failed.

3. The thing was posted behind multiupload (or similar now dead service), what to do?

Okay so first, go to the page where the link was posted, right click on the download address and copy that with “copy link” or whatever it happens to be in your browser since those differ between them.

Open web.archive.org, paste the address you copied there:

With some luck you’ll receive some hits like this:

Click on any of the blue dots, if one doesn’t work, try another. Also note: if dots are green it means the link redirects somewhere, usually to random ad sites, but it could also just mean the address of the site has changed so be careful. If you have any luck the page has been archived and you’ll get something like this:

A lot of those files hosts no longer work so there’s no point in trying Megaupload, Depositfiles, hotfile, zshare or 2shared links but mediafire still exists so click on its “Download file” button. On first glance it looks like it doesn’t work:

You should copy the mediafire address (or if it was another file host then that address) and paste it to your browser’s address bar anyway to test it.

It doesn’t always work but usually, as long as the file hasn’t been deleted it should work.

Additionally about Mediafire: Sometimes some older mediafire links will tell you that they don’t work, you can sometimes fix them like this:

mediafire.com/c4txzwdlumxg/uy0nqwnjz0z/(fileName) (original link) mediafire.com/c4txzwdlumxg/uy0nqwnjz0z/(fileName) (delete the overlined bit) mediafire.com/file/uy0nqwnjz0z/(fileName) (= working link, it seems to add the /file/ part automatically to the link)

(fileName) above is stand in for “Janita-scott+male+clothing+-+07+-+Mar+-+2010.rar“ since it was too long. This is actual link that was coming up with page not found error but it’s actually not missing, Mediafire just changed something about their links that made it break at some point.

4. Check chomikuj.pl!

(http://chomikuj.pl) This is some sort of Polish file sharing site that has plenty of Sims files uploaded there. It has some caveats, for example if you don’t have account you can only download files smaller than 2 MB, if you create an account you can download worth of 50 MB every week for free. It’s sounds like a lot more than it really is so if you find good loot better bookmark that page since you’ll be spending weeks getting all those files. To use the site just type whatever you’re searching to search box (I’ve found that simply using the creator name tends to have the best results)

We’re gonna search for ripplesims, the following page has some ads first so scroll down until you see the results:

Then I recommend just opening those in new tabs since there usually are plenty of results. Then to download, click on the file title:

and this kind of window will pop up:

“Pobierz” means download, you’ll want to use the top one, the other one is some kind of ad or something again. Then your browser should give you the normal download prompt and you can save the file. Here’s few users who post Sims 2  content to get you started:

rakuyou

Thumbelina 21

Justyna211

aleksandra.przybylka

mgs1991

5. Check GameVN!

(http://forum.gamevn.com/forums/downtown.281/) this is Vietnamese file sharing forum, that gets updated occasionally. A lot of newer files are just stuff from tumblr (possibly your stuff if you upload custom content, don’t be upset, that’s just how internet works, you post it, you no longer have control over it.), but they also have some older files and for example some files from gamesir. 

6. Check Game.ali213!

(https://game.ali213.net/forum-295-1.html) okay so this board is pain in the ass to browse since it’s in Chinese but these two are the section you’re most likely interested in:

First one is for sharing content made by others, second for sharing original works. There’s for example: daum content, stuff from ReflexSims, some stuff from Yuri and Gameski, more daum content....

Note that some files are posted to hosts that don’t work anymore such as namipan, pan.baidu, rayfile, 91files.com.... there’s a lot of dead hosts really and you’re gonna get disappointed many times when you click on the links. But the files hosted on the forum itself usually are available, they just tend to be in multiple pieces so you need to download all of them and then choose them all at once to extract correctly.

7. Check VK.com Albums!

There probably are others but the one I most often check is: https://vk.com/albums-52214 (hit on show all albums and then start browsing, the first albums are pictures, wcifs and member uploads but then there are reuploads. Not every link works but quite few do so it’s worth checking through.)

8. Check other sites that reupload files!

I’m of course talking about Booty, Simscave, TheSimsGraveyard and Liquid Sims. Sometimes the most obvious place is exactly where you’ll find it. :)

[howtosingit]

Fic: you keep burning through to my soul 

“Your lips look a little cold there, Officer Reyes.” * TK learns a lot about Texas during his first year of living in Austin.

1.5K | Also on AO3

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TK learns a lot about Texas during his first year of living in Austin.

Being a city boy from New York, he realizes that much of what he thought he knew about the “Lone Star State” is just plain wrong. 

He remembers when his dad first told him that they were leaving New York for Austin. He may have still been a little out of it, but TK can vividly recall the look of utter confusion he had planted on his father, along with his sharp tone of disbelief when he said, “You want me, a gay firefighter, to move to Texas? Are you insane?”

He knows now that Austin, Texas is a pretty liberal city. Sure, it’s no New York City or San Francisco, but it would be unfair of him to expect it to be. Besides, it’s not like he never ran into homophobia living in Brooklyn. No city is completely free of bigots, but TK soon realizes he doesn’t have to live in fear in Austin; he can go out to gay clubs and bars, he can hold hands with another guy when he walks down the street. He can be out and proud and live his life -- and he can do all of that away from the dark memory of New York. It’s a good place for him to be.

Another interesting thing he discovers is that Austin is not a warm southern paradise all year round. It’s definitely warmer than New York, and apparently it hardly ever snows - something about the warm air from the Gulf making it highly unlikely for snow to accumulate, he doesn’t really know or care about the why of it. But, while it may not snow, it does get cold enough for freezing rain and ice, and that is its own kind of Texas hell.  

For one, TK never really had to worry about the state of the roads in New York City, considering he didn’t drive there. Now, after a few months in Austin, he’s got his own car and he’s adjusted to being behind the wheel more frequently. He was feeling pretty confident about it too, for a while at least, until winter hit and he experienced the joy of driving through sleet on black ice for the first time; it made him feel like he had to learn a completely new skill just to keep his car on the road.

Freezing rain and ice also means their crew has to work overtime responding to weather-related incidents, including uprooted oak trees weighed down by ice, which often causes structural damage to nearby homes, and pile-ups on the roads when Texas drivers inevitably lose control and cause serious accidents.

They’re responding to one of those incidents now, and TK could not be more thankful for his heavy turnout gear. He’s also taken to wearing at least one thick layer underneath as well, which helps, especially when it’s still sleeting, like it is tonight. Years of experience running into blazing fires and other extreme conditions make this cold, wet January night feel almost routine, if not also completely different. 

It doesn’t stop him from noticing a familiar figure standing a few cars away from him, though, who looks less-insulated from the weather. Carlos is decked out head-to-toe in his winter gear, including his boots, gloves, APD coat, and stocking cap. The added layers make his hulking body even larger, and TK can’t help but to appreciate how he pulls focus just by taking up so much space on the scene. He’s speaking with a woman from a car at the perimeter of the pile-up, taking notes on the pad of paper in his hand. Before Marjan pulls his attention away, TK sees the officer’s breath in the cold night air. 

It’s a long night, made even longer by the uninterrupted rain falling down on them. By the time they’re finished, only a few people sent off to the hospital for minor injuries, TK and his team are soaked to the bone, and though they’re all used to the extremes, he notices some teeth-chattering that wasn’t happening an hour ago when they were all working the scene. Marjan is passing out hand warmers while they wait for his dad to give them the all-clear to head out. TK accepts his with a quiet thank you, noticing Carlos standing off to the side, moving around more than usual to keep warm. TK knows he typically runs hot, but standing around for hours in the rain seems to have finally gotten the better of him.

Guided by a sudden thought, TK approaches him, careful where he steps to avoid any patches of ice. Carlos glances his way while still pacing back and forth and rubbing his hands together, a grimace on his face that TK thinks was meant to be a smile. TK gives him a smile of his own, realizing as he does so that he can’t really feel his face anymore. 

“Your lips look a little cold there, Officer Reyes,” he says, glancing down at the facial feature in question. Carlos grinds to a halt, his eyebrows shooting up towards the lower edge of the stocking cap pressed over his dark curls as his jaw drops just a fraction, a sure sign of his surprise.

“TK…,” Carlos begins to respond, the word coming out slowly along with a visible huff of air, but TK cuts him off before he can continue.

“You sticking around here much longer?” he asks.

Carlos blinks a few times, obviously thrown by the redirect, before nodding. “Yeah, I’m waiting on the tow trucks to clear the road. They’re taking a little longer than usual.”

TK nods, gesturing to the officer’s hands. “How’re your fingers?”

“I’ll be okay,” Carlos says immediately, rubbing them together to warm them a bit.

“Here, tough guy,” TK says, handing over his hand warmer before Carlos can pretend like he doesn’t need it. They end up holding it between their gloved hands, gripping each other tightly. “We’re just waiting for the all-clear, so you could use this more than me.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says, his brown eyes twinkling in the red and blue lights from his cruiser. “I appreciate it.”

TK leans in, a smirk forming on his face as he whispers in Carlos’s ear. “I meant what I said about the lips, too, but Marjan didn’t give me any lip warmers, unfortunately.”

Carlos huffs out a laugh, taking a step closer into TK’s space so that their front sides press together, hands still linked. “I hate you.”

TK smiles, turning his face to press a quick kiss to Carlos’s cold cheek. “No, you don’t.”

He looks up slightly, drawn to his favorite pair of warm, loving eyes. Carlos closes them as he laughs, a bright smile rearranging his face into a look of absolute joy. TK feels his heart stutter way down in his chest, underneath all of his layers. Before he can tell Carlos for the millionth time how much he loves him, his boyfriend ducks down slightly to press their frozen lips together. 

The effect is instantaneous. Before, all TK could think about was how cold he was, how he was slowly losing feeling in his toes, how he couldn’t wait to get back to the station and strip off his wet clothes before stepping into a warm shower. Now, with Carlos pressed against him, those thoughts are extinguished entirely, the fire that is his boyfriend having doused them with its own intense heat. 

He grips Carlos’s shoulder with his free hand, holding him close. The kiss isn’t indecent, and he knows they don’t have an audience, hidden from his entire team on the other side of the police cruiser, but there’s a part of TK’s brain that is telling him not to deepen the embrace; he knows he won’t want to stop if they really get started, and neither of them can afford that while on the clock.

They’re saved by his radio going off, his dad’s voice breaking them apart as they’re given the all clear to pack up and go. TK takes in Carlos’s flushed face and his bright, red lips, and a surge of victory flares through him. Mission accomplished.

“You’re welcome,” TK says, darting back in for a quick kiss before he steps away.

Carlos blinks through a daze, his tongue darting out to lick his full lips before letting out a bright giggle. TK can’t help but to answer with one of his own. Sometimes they’re both really ridiculous.

“I’ll be home around 11,” Carlos reminds him, rubbing his hands together again now that TK has stepped away.

“I’ll have a bath ready for us,” TK promises, giving him a wink, “to show you what other things these lips can keep warm.” 

Carlos’s jaw drops completely this time, and TK doubles over with laughter as he hurries around the cruiser to head towards the truck. 

“I love you!” he shouts over his shoulder, turning away. “Don’t be late, I’ll get all pruney!”

He just barely catches Carlos shouting “I love you, too!” as he steps into the truck, letting out a sigh at the sudden warmth, his mind already focused on how hot this evening is going to be. 

A Texas winter is certainly no match for the two of them.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 62 – After the Battle

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The cadence from the machine was as steady as it could be. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Frankenstein’s heart was just as steady, its beat placid like the surface of water.

In reality, at least from Frankenstein’s standing point, for each pulse his blood was being drained away by a droplet. 

He felt as if the entire room, beyond the spot he was marking with his legs, was already flooded with the red from his body. 

Which he should have expected since his entrance to Lunark’s room. 

The day after the destructive arrival of his body occupied by the Dark Spear to Lukedonia, Lunark was hospitalized in the Lukedonian ward, having yet to wake up. 

It had been merely hours since the battle was officially closed, so it was too soon to see her waking up. 

Frankenstein knew that; after all, she was against none other than the Dark Spear that had unchained itself from his command. 

The Dark Spear that had absorbed Crombel and pieces of Crombel’s Blood Stone. 

No one would deny that it was a life-threatening opponent, even for Lunark. 

Not to mention she suffered a wound from Dark Spear, deliberately meant to kill her. 

A wound that sent Frankenstein’s sanity to the nether world when he finally regained his senses. 

A wound that was more critical than it should have been, for Lunark did not care about anything other than getting Frankenstein back, paying no attention to her own survival. 

Lunark may be top-tiered among the current werewolf warriors, but it is not time yet for her to wake up. 

Frankenstein knew and understood and accepted it in his head. 

However, his heart refused to comply. 

The cardiac monitor that was linked to her was signaling how she was at least stabilized, but Frankenstein felt he would die unless she provides a hint herself that she will be fine. 

Which is why he could not leave her, when she was not the only patient in the chamber. 

He had been receiving multiple suggestions and offers for breaks, if not treatment, from the hospital’s doctors and medical staff, Central Knights, and even few of the heads of clans. 

And of course, he would not heed them at all. 

Or he would answer he will not be staying long, to go ahead and stay transfixed as soon as he was left alone.

‘Looks like the story about me has spread to all corners of Lukedonia.’

Thought Frankenstein as he reckoned the next visitor. 

“I anticipated you to be here. I am glad I did not waste my time walking into your own room.” 

“...Please forgive me. I was supposed to keep better vigilance upon myself. The damage I caused upon your land is of no small...” 

Though what happened was as far as it could be from his intention, knowing that he had caused lot of trouble – in fact, heaps of trouble – Frankenstein willingly bowed to Lascrea. 

In the meantime, he was plotting whatever excuse he could yield to thwart yet another trial to send him to bed. 

Alas, this time he was told incorrect. 

“This is for you.” 

Frankenstein blinked in puzzlement upon locking his eyes on the phone Lascrea handed. 

‘Oh. Right. Tao said he prepared a phone and a couple applications for her in extension of the QuadraNet project.’ 

He was questioning the timing of Lascrea’s presentation of her phone when something caught his eyes. 

The screen was not the sort he identified, but the interface told him it was an application with a vocal chat activated, ongoing.

And there is only one soul that is connected to Lascrea’s phone. 

That moment Frankenstein could feel his throat strangling itself. 

However, he knew who was waiting on the other side of the phone; not even the end of the world can serve as a reason for him to turn it down. 

Thus he took Lascrea’s phone, his heart heavy like never before in the most recent times. 

“...Yes, master?” 

<Frankenstein. You do not sound well.> 

“...Forgive me, master.” 

<Forgive you...? For what?> 

Frankenstein’s eardrums shriveled. 

He could list in his mind more than a handful of things he should be begging forgiveness for, but for some reason he could not name any of them. 

Raizel changed the topic, his previous question obviously meant to be rhetoric. 

<Lascrea relayed the news. You were brought to Lukedonia, your body lost to Dark Spear, until Lunark arrived for your redemption following a blood-spilling battle. Because of which Lunark has met another battle, this time her conscious as a captive.> 

Frankenstein could tell Raizel was being gracious to him on the smallest scale he could afford. 

He may have put the cause behind Lunark’s blackout as an aftermath from her battle, but he would know the truth. 

After all, Lascrea was one of the witnesses for Lunark’s wound, and she would have had enough knowledge to testify for Raizel how she ended up suffering the wound. 

He would know that what forced her into blackout is not the aftermath of the battle; it is the one who was engaged in the battle. 

<Are you all right?> 

<...I’m fine, sir. Lukedonia boasts medical skills good enough to...> 

<My question was posed for more than your body.> 

And he knew how Frankenstein’s vessels and heart were being pulled apart every second with guilt. 

He knew how Frankenstein’s nightmare came true – his hand lost the reins he had placed upon Dark Spear, waiting for a chance to prevail from within. 

He knew because of which he is feeling for himself hatred like never before. 

Frankenstein could still remember the moment when the dam finally started to break down. And when he woke up once it was all over. 

Upon his return from the werewolf realm – rather, not long after he had finally recharged himself with wolfsbane tonic, the substance that should have kept him insomniac, he felt how a venom called sleep yanked his head with an invisible lasso towards the thick, unbreakable swamp of slumber. 

He panicked, a rare occasion for him, realizing something had gone horribly wrong, but he was already swept away by the rapid current of sleep.

Without any rope or boat to save him, he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. 

After who-knows-for-how-long, he was beckoned by a thin sensation from somewhere beyond his conscious as if something had shattered. 

Now that he had thought about it, he was surely fast asleep back then, but he could swear he felt something shatter. 

Promptly, his eyelids shot open as if under electrocution, exactly in the manner of a person miraculously dragged back by the AED from the brink of embarking on Charon’s boat. 

Furiously panting from the bottommost of his lungs, he waved his head in circumspection of his surroundings. 

He knew all too well what he would unleash once he is asleep, and as he feared his perimeter was nothing short from the definition of cataclysm. 

And he needed not to check how he was doing. 

He noticed how the soil and dirt he was thrown upon was of Lukedonian origin, and he wondered how he ended up here until his face grew cold, for he got aware a tad late of an unfamiliar weight upon his body. 

He could not see the face of the one lying upside down upon his torso, but he could make out a flock of hair scattered about where his hugger’s head should be. 

And he did not need to try at all to recognize the color, length, and curves of the hair. 

Immediately his heart froze up, turned much colder than his face. 

Soon enough he discovered a black hole rooted deep into her back, partially hidden by her hair, which filled him from head to toes with ice. 

He could not recall what befell right after. 

He ripped her off his body and ran with no direction or sense to coordinate him, to shriek dozen times and plead as twice as much, to ultimately reach here. 

<Know I it was not your will to hurt her. She would not blame you.> 

“...No. She wouldn’t.” 

<But you would.> 

Frankenstein’s throat grew strained at Raizel’s remark. 

Just as he said, Frankenstein felt highly inclined to wrench off his own head if he could. 

He wanted to drive his nails into his chest to pry out his heart. 

He could not remember the last time when his heart was jeopardized every minute by miserable, violent impulse concerning what did not happen to be Raizel. 

He could not stop thinking that he might make his impulse come to reality if Lunark is to never again open her eyes. 

Lascrea tightened her lips, having never seen such a slick, flawless man speechless for once. 

That was when she was reminded that she did not have much history with Lunark. 

She did have a light clash against her and the 3rd Elder, on the day she visited Raizel to fill his life with the half of her Ragnarok. 

After that, she ran into Lunark when she made her way to the werewolf realm with Kei and Rosaria, when Lunark brought Frankenstein, Muzaka, and Raizel, for them to ultimately reap away Maduke’s life. 

Apart from those occasions, she could not even get to hear Lunark’s name. 

So Lascrea was clueless why Frankenstein would have such a conversation with Raizel with Lunark unconscious before him. 

After all, she was looking at none other than Frankenstein, which made it more challenging for her to determine the exact relation that he and Lunark would share. 

With everything pushed to the side, however, she equally prayed that this werewolf warrior who was making THE Frankenstein spill out his guilt to open her eyes. 

Partially because she had something she had to check with Lunark.

And she could see she was not the only one. 

<It seems your heart as of now is not available for an uninterrupted, untainted reflection. For now best would it be for us to wait for Lunark to rise again. Wish I to hear that she awakens.> 

“...Of course. I believe we have a discussion ahead of us.”

That was when Frankenstein and Lascrea sharpened their eyes with pregnant glare. 

But the latter soon redirected the spotlight to something more important than the business they had with Lunark. 

“Have no concern, Frankenstein. Cadis Etrama di Raizel. I shall help our guest and savior to rise again with body as good as new, even if it takes all of Lukedonia’s art in medicine.” 

<...My gratitude, Lascrea.> 

Lascrea’s phone chimed with a brief word of appreciation. 

Poised were Raizel’s words, but Lascrea could detect softness as light but certain as moonlight, and her cheeks flushed like ripe tomatoes for a second. 

Thankfully for her, Frankenstein was too caught in his own complicated mind to notice her blush and failed to print it in his head with his eyes. 

He thereby unintentionally kept the noble lord’s dignity safe and asked, “Speaking of which, how is everything going at Korea?” 

(next chapter)

Now it’s time to wrap up things that follow the battle one by one, including the relationship between Frankenstein and Lunark. Also, I’ll be highlighting all the events that have yet to be explored in this fic (especially the events mentioned in the early chapters). Which means even though the highlight of this fic is over, I still have lots of work to do. Nevertheless, I shall do my best! :D 

[uncloseted]

i related to effy an unhealthy amount when i was only 13 when i first watched it, but at the time i wasnt doing drugs, homewrecking, doing anything that young lol. however i was extremely mentally ill but undiagnosed, and so confused but i found solace in effys character because of how similar i felt to her. flashforward to being 20 now and im a nic addict/borderline drug and alcohol addict that forgets to take my prescribed antidepressants and antipsychotics. i cant tell you how many events of effys life have mirrored mine now 7 years later, both the pretty but mostly the ugly. it all feels like a joke to me, and the thing is of course it wasnt effy the fictional character that did this to me, it was the fact that i was genetically and epically set up to do this to me for as long as i existed and i saw myself in her too young. everyone ive ever met and started to befriend has fallen in love with me, has found me beautiful, and then seen my flaws and hated me even if they didnt tell me to my face. ive been a horrible friend and partner and im flighty and unreliable and destructive. i never saw effy, or a person like effy, find a happy ending and im afraid even when im at my manic highs i will never find a lasting happiness and will always accidentally self sabotage until i die. what im trying to ask is, how can i save me? i know its dumb to ask a random tumblr user but ive been following this blog since i was 13-14 and since you know effy through and through, you might know a little about me. its a long shot. (i’d also like to say this isnt a cry for help and im safe/not actively suicidal so i dont want you to feel like theres any pressure like that, but i did use this ask box as a free therapy session.)

I'm a bit biased, but I don't think there's anything wrong with asking a random Tumblr user at all. I'm happy to be a free therapy session when you need one, and I'm really touched that you've trusted me with your thoughts and feelings for so long. Hopefully I've been some help over the years 😆

Coping with mental illness can be really, really hard, but the good news is that with the right tools and support system, you can absolutely recover. It sounds like you already have a psychiatrist in your life, which is a great start. If you've having trouble remembering to take your medication, it might help to set calendar reminders on your phone, set up text prompts to remind you to take your pills, to link taking your pills with something else you do every day (like brushing your teeth or eating breakfast), or to reward yourself for taking your medication (for example, putting a piece of candy in your pill box that you can eat after taking your pill).

If you don't have one already, a therapist might also be a good idea. It can take a while to find the right therapist for you, so schedule a few appointments and see which therapist you "click" with. A therapist can help you work through any reluctance you might have towards taking you medications, as well as helping you come up with day to day strategies that help you achieve your goals and helping you work through the beliefs that you hold about yourself and the world that may be holding you back.

Moving on to talking about addiction for a bit. I strongly believe that addiction doesn't come from some type of inherent lack of willpower or moral failing, or even really the drug itself. It's the need to escape reality. And that's actually supported by scientific literature; most famously, the Rat Park experiment by Bruce K Alexander. Practically, we've seen that same thing in the aftermath of Portugal's decision to decriminalize all drugs. They took the money they were using to keep drug users in prison, and instead invested that money into reconnecting people who struggle with addiction to society. Their goal was to make sure that every person who struggles with addiction has a reason to get up in the morning and has a support system within the wider society. And it actually worked- injection drug use is down 50%, overdoses and HIV infections have massively decreased, and rates of addiction decreased as well. It's much easier to quit when you have something motivating you to keep going.

Why am I telling you all of this? I guess what I'm trying to get at is in order to recover from addiction, I think first people need to understand what the reality is that they're trying to escape. What can be done about those issues? Who's in your corner trying to support you, even if they're not doing the best job at it? Where else can you get the social support you might need? What are you passionate about? What would make it feel worth it to get up in the morning? I think instead of focusing on the drugs, or the alcohol, or the cigarettes, maybe we should focus on solving the root problems that make those attractive options. That's one of the reasons a therapist is a really good idea; they can help you figure out what those root problems are, and provide resources and tools to help you fix those problems.

In terms of practical, do it yourself advice for dealing with addiction, there are a couple things you might try. I did a whole post on evidence-based ways to set goals and follow through on them here, so I won't rehash it in this post, but basically:

Try to set goals that are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time bound. For you, this might be something like "My goal is to have only one drink a day (measurable and achievable) for week (time bound) so that I can be more reliable for my friends (relevant)".

Instead of trying to quit something, replace it with something else. For example, "when I feel like smoking, I'm going to do ten minutes of learning Korean instead". Learning something new is easier and more exciting, and so new habits are easier to maintain that breaking old ones. Find a new hobby that you've always wanted to do or that's exciting to you, and try to focus your energies on that to distract yourself.

Identify any obstacles (such as environmental triggers) that you might run into, and develop contingency plans for working around them. This might be something like, "when I drink coffee in the morning, I want to smoke, so I'm going to switch to tea instead." If you can, get rid of all environmental triggers that might remind you of your addiction or trigger a craving.

Get someone else involved. Tell a friend about your goal and have them check up on you. Your fear of disappointing them will help you stay on track.

Put money on the line. Give money to a friend with the understanding that you'll get it back at a set date if you've achieved the goal you set. Tell your friend that if you fail, they should donate the money to a group or cause you really hate.

Write down the reasons you want to quit, and put them somewhere you know you'll see them. Whenever you want to engage in an addiction behavior, read through that list first.

For bonus points, add to that list your contingency plan for when you want to engage in an addiction behavior. These may include ways to redirect your attention or distract yourself until the craving passes.

76% of people who wrote down their goals, actions and provided weekly progress to a friend successfully achieved their goals.

You might also try an addiction recovery app, such as these, or doing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy worksheets on your own if you can't access a therapist right now.

There are also some things you can try in order to improve your mood. As much as I hate that this is true, consistent exercise has a huge impact on mood. If you can, try taking a 20 minute walk outside, 3 times a week. Other (boring) things, like making sure you're getting 7-9 hours of sleep a night and eating regularly, can also make a big difference in mood. Some of you might know that I'm a little bit obsessed with the free Coursera class "The Science of Well-Being". It has a lot of great evidence-based tips and tricks for how to build happiness, and I highly recommend it if you're trying to live a happier life. These include things like journaling, meditating, noting things that you're grateful for, helping other people, and having regular social interactions.

Finally, a few philosophical thoughts. One of the Four Noble Truths in Buddhism is dukkha. Basically, this is the idea that suffering is an innate characteristic of existence in our world. When I was younger, I never liked this concept, but I think now I kind of get it. It's impossible to be happy 100% of the time, and that shouldn't be our goal. Suffering is the comparison by which our lives gain meaning. But we can do our best to minimize our suffering and the suffering of others, and ride the wave of suffering when it does come. And each time we ride that wave, we can learn techniques to manage it a little bit better, and to make it easier the next time. We will sometimes sabotage ourselves out of fear, but we can learn how to do it less frequently and for the consequences to be less dire. We can learn how to forgive ourselves for our flaws and what we've done in the past, and learn from those mistakes so we don't do them again in the future. It's also okay to backslide, to struggle even after you've made progress. You're never back where you started, because you've always learned more and experienced more.

I know I've thrown kind of a lot at you in this post, and I don't expect you to try all of it or for all of it to work, but hopefully something in there is helpful to you. You can get through this. You can save yourself, but please, also remember to let others help save you. You don't need to do this on your own. And just like I have been since you were 13, I'm always here to give a free therapy session and to lend my support ❤️❤️❤️

[mybrothershands]

spoon 2

if tumblr dies just know it was by mine own hand but I think i got the paragraphs to post in order this time bngfhuriepiio

link to the part one: 

https://mybrothershands.tumblr.com/post/617963341198016512/would-be-very-interested-to-read-about-the-spoon

The boy sat vigil outside of the doctor's home, legs long since gone numb. The worst came to mind. What if his friend's lungs collapsed? Was he bleeding on the inside? Or his heart- was it safe? No one had come out to tell him otherwise, so all he could do was sit there and worry.

Dew had settled on the boy's neck and shoulders as he stared down at the hands in his lap and listened to the dogs bark in the distance. His stomach growled, and he found himself wishing he had eaten the apples and oats that had been put in front of him earlier instead of throwing a fit. He was not sure he could eat anything now. The growling sound came again, louder this time, and he clenched his jaw. Maybe he should go back and at least try, if only it would shut up this horrible noise.

Just as he was about to get up, he heard a door creak open, and firelight spilled out onto the street in front of him. At first he worried it was the doctor, and all of his fears flooded past his eyes. Yet it was not Dr. Baker and instead there was a young girl holding the doorknob. Her eyes travelled up, up, up, until she met his face with wide eyes, her mouth agape.

If the boy had not been near tears before, he certainly was now. Surely this child would scream and run back into the house any moment now. He closed his eyes and waited, frozen in place. Yet as the time ticked on, no such cry was raised. Instead, she clutched a pillow in her arm, the end of it dragged the ground, and took a step out onto the stoop. "You are very big," she observed.

The young giant squeezed his eyes shut tight. Yes, he was painfully aware of this. It was not until she started to approach that he drew in a breath. "Uh, uhm… maybe you should return to the barn- er, house. I mean house."

She seemed to ignore him, dragging her pillow in the dirt as she came closer still, eyes full of wonder. "Are you Caw?"

He took both his hands and clamped them under his armpits. To keep her safe. "It's Ka," he softly corrected. Though the difference was subtle, "caw" always sounded stupid to him. "Why don't you return to the house?"

He cleared his throat when she persisted, "It's late. Dr. Baker will be upset."

"He's busy," she shrugged, drawing closer to his left leg. "You look a lot different than I thought."

He narrowed his eyes. How had she known his name? Then an image came to mind- one of her and Dr. Baker and his wife around the table, telling stories of the town menace. Ka closed his eyes and sighed softly. "What did you expect?" He said, more because he felt obligated to ask than out of true curiosity.

The girl shrugged, stopping short of touching him. "I dunno. You just look more… real. More human than I thought."

Silence grew between them. "I am not human," Ka said decisively. He clamped hands firmly to his sides. "And I am not safe. Return inside."

She cocked her head. "You talk funny," she said, ignoring him again.

"Leave," he ordered.

"This is my house," she countered, looking him straight in the eye. The girl opened her mouth as if about to say more, but left it at that. She reached out to touch his knee, despite how nervous this made the giant.

It took Ka several seconds to recover from her words, but was quickly brought back into reality when she started trying to climb onto his folded knee. "I- uh, erm. Well, this is my... self-area."

She peered up at him. "What?"

"Self-area. I don't want... you are too close."

"I don't give a crap," she spat, proud to say the word. Just as she did, there came another horrible noise. The girl stilled for a moment, an arm and a leg hooked over his knee, and made a face. "What was that?"

"That was your tummy?" She said, eyes wide. "It sounded like a monster."

Ka grimaced. "I'm… well, today I haven't eaten anything. I should leave."

At this, the giant grew still, and his face sombered. He shoved his hands deeper into his armpits, hugging himself. "I think you should return to the house," Ka said quietly. His eyes began to sting. "Now?"

For once, the girl paused. She slid off his knee, though not completely on purpose. "Will you come back?"

"Yes," he lied.

In the dim moonslight, she could not quite see the shadow of his face way up there. Yet the way his eyes would not meet hers- well, that much she could see. "Promise?" She asked.

Ka studied her for a moment. If he said no, she would not back away enough for him to get up. Moving her himself was out of the question. Not after what he had done. "Maybe," he decided.

This seemed to satisfy her well enough, and she dragged her pillow back to the house. Ka's eyes followed her, and was surprised to find her mother standing at the door, watching. How long had she been there for? She did not give him a chance to ask, however. With the child safely under her wing, she glared him square in the eye, face blank. The only thing that broke her gaze was the door as it closed between them.

The boy drew in a deep breath which turned into a stifled, nervous yawn, and sighed. He uncurled his arms and leaned forward. Finding his legs had gone to sleep, he stayed there on his hands and knees for a moment, allowing the blood to return to his feet. That was when he noticed it. A little human footprint in the dirt, right next to the crook of his thumb. How small it looked, like a mere bird's track, and as he removed his hand he found more of the same.

He did not belong among them.

When Ka at last could stand again, he left for his barn. Thankfully, he met no one on the road. Yet the dogs did hush as he lumbered past. Tails tucked, he imagined.

There was not much to pack up. Only a few spare clothes. He looked at his plate, untouched, and the utensils beside it. Though he finished off the apples and oatmeal, he did not touch the spoon. He wanted to bend that one up, to destroy it, yet it felt wrong. Cairo had bought it for him, after all, so it was not his to break.

The boy's eyes drooped. His muscles still ached from the previous day's work, and having gotten little to no sleep the night before was wearing on him. He could sleep once he reached the outskirts, the young giant decided. That way no one would have to gawk or cower from him if he left during the day. So, with the little bundle under an arm, Ka ducked out the barn, headed south.

He would miss Cairo. Very much so, he realized, but it would be safer this way.

---

The morning came with the patter of hooves on grass. At first he thought it was Lempkins, come to fetch him for work again. Yet the beats sounded different, not like the buckskin he usually rode. Ka lifted his head to find a pony coming up the road towards the trees under which he lay. The little beast's trot looked rougher than river rock, with its head reared to spot any opportunity to turn back towards the barn. The rider: a young boy.

Ka decided he would get out of his way. He knew how spookish horses got around him. Slowly, he got to his feet and turned away, quickly putting ground between himself and the rider. Yet even as he did so, the hoof-fells did not seem to fade. Rather, they picked up at the tick of a whip. Maybe he should hurry more to get out of the pony's way.

Then came a voice. Unsure at first, not knowing how to call. "Hey! Uhm," the human struggled with the pony a moment before redirecting his attention. "H- hey, giant! Wait up," he called.

Ka slowed, not sure if he had heard correctly. At last he paused and glanced back. The boy was staring straight at him, half pleading and half angry at his mount. The pony stopped as soon as her rider stopped kicking, and took instead to fidgeting, trying to turn around. "Your brother- he asked me to fetch you."

The young giant's brow traced with worry, and fear grew in his eyes. "My...?" He noticed the equine looked fairly fresh. Surely his brother was not so closeby? Mouth dry, Ka swallowed a lump in his throat. "What… did he hurt you?"

The rider looked a bit confused, but too distracted by his mount to voice it. "No. I mean he was grouchy, but that's normal."

Ka blinked. That description did not fit. "Wait, who? My brother, you said."

The boy nodded, a bit indignant at this stupid giant. "He's back at Baker's. He can't ride with his ribs broken, so he sent me."

"Wh-" the pieces began to fall into place. "C- Cairo?"

"Yeah, him!"

Ka was still a moment, lips parted and jaw slack. Cairo had called him that? Even after what he had done...? He looked away. "Tell him you could not find me."

"He's not going to pay me if I come back without you," said the boy. He glared up at him, a question in his eye. Why did he balk?

Pausing, the giant considered this, studying the little human. He remembered the tracks in the dirt from the previous night and how tiny they had looked beside his hand. How effortlessly he had struck Cairo and yet still broken him. Even the pony the boy rode could easily be picked up in one hand. It was just a simple sum of money for the boy, but for him? Ka sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Could you make up your mind?" Said the human, pulling heavily on his chubby steed's mouth. The pony was getting back to the barn, even if she had to back-pace the whole way there.

"No," Ka decided, turning away. Cairo would get by just fine without him. They all would.

"Please?"

Ka glanced over his shoulder and firmed his brow. "What of your parents? Wouldn't they be happy I'm gone? This would be a giant-free place again." He grumbled.

The boy did not hear, busy fighting the pony. As the crop whacked her rump just a touch too hard, she sat down, and the boy slid off. Free, she got up and galloped off with a trail of dust rising behind her. Hearing the boy curse Ka paused, turning around to find him in the mud. He took a step towards him, but stepped right back.

"Are you hurt?" Ka said from a distance.

The boy glared in response. He pushed himself up and wiped the mud from his pants. "Just get your sorry butt back to Baker's so I can get my pay," shouted the messenger.

The young giant sighed, then pursed his lips. Maybe just to say goodbye. He owed him that much. Ka nodded, but did not move until the boy forcefully pointed back towards the town. Making sure to skirt well around the little human, the giant headed into town.

---

Ka did make it back to Baker's, but was quickly turned away. Cairo had left hours ago, and not before raising cain. The girl from the night before waved at him from the window, but the curtain was curtly drawn before she could open it. Well, he had tried, anyway.

Lost in thought and out of habit, his feet carried him back to the barn. There he found a curious sight. Cairo was sitting in the massive open doorway, staring up at nothing. Ka padded softly over, and the man's head turned ever so slightly before returning to stare into the dark. They were silent for a moment, neither sure what to say. When they did, it was both at once.

"Cairo, I-" he sighed. "Tha mi duilich."

The human did not answer for a long time. The wind rushed past them in the quiet. Birds began to chatter, and even distant conversation of farmers reached them. Still, not a word. Quietly, Ka sat down beside him, crossed his legs, and stared into the barn. At nothing.

"You were just going to leave?" The human said at last, his voice quiet.

"You would be safer without-"

"What! Safer without you?" Cairo snapped, instantly regretting it. He turned to face him, eyes red and cheeks wet. "Come down here so I don't have to yell," he grumbled, wincing as he gripped his side.

The giant obeyed, pulling his feet out from under himself until he lay flat on his belly in the dirt, his face propped up on his arms. Even as he did so, he had moved further away. Enough so that the motion barely served its purpose. "Tha mi-"

Cairo held up a hand. "No, me. I'm sorry."

"Sorry," Ka mouthed the new word, and the human nearly scowled at him for it.

"I-" He cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have thrown that lamp at you. That was cruel of me. Even if you can take it."

Ka was silent, not meeting his eye. As if there was something on his tongue, he opened his mouth but thought better, and clamped it shut again.

Cairo continued. "This wasn't your fault," he said, indicating his broken side. "Do you understand?" His voice was stern.

Silence came again as the giant stared at Cairo's ribs. It was covered in some kind of bandage, and a shirt over that. In the back of the boy's mind he could still feel the bones crinkling in his grip, and felt his face heat up. Words flowed out, but in that language, Cairo could barely understand what the young giant was saying. At the end of his little rant, Ka buried his face in his arms and began to shudder and cry.

There came a grunt, a growl, and a curse which was presumably Cairo getting to his feet. In a moment, there was a small but firm hand on his shoulder. "Hey now, you quit that crying," he said, though his tone was soft. They sat there for a while like that, the human still awkwardly patting the shoulder he had ridden on so many times.

It took awhile for Ka's breathing to slow, though not as long as it had last night. Wiping his nose on his shirt collar, he picked his head up and sniffed. "I'm sorry, Cairo," he said, the words awkward on his tongue.

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault, remember?" He lightly punched the giant's arm. Some of his normal gruff tone began to return. "And don't run off like that, fool. Now I have to pay that kid."

"I'm s-"

He punched him again, harder this time. "Stop saying that," he growled.

Ka nodded, but kept his gaze down at his hands. Cairo's feet rested within the crook of his right thumb, and though his boots were bigger than the little girl's bare feet, they still looked tiny next to his own fingers. "He told me… that my brother was looking for me," he said quietly. "Why did you tell him that? That I was…."

Cairo reached out and grabbed the bridge of Ka's nose and tried to shove his head back and forth. "Because you are, idiot." he said.

Although Ka's eyes followed him, he was too close to focus on. Even so, he could still hear the smile in his voice.

Brother. He mulled the word over in his mind. How strange it was, because if this were true, and Cairo were older…. A smile cracked on his face. "A bit silly."

"No it isn't," Cairo said, and backhanded Ka's cheek.

The giant flinched, more out of surprise than anything. "No, I meant. You would be the 'big' brother," he said. Sitting up on his elbows, Ka reached out and nearly poked the man before freezing up. He curled his fingers back and tucked his hand away.

Cairo glared at the retreating hand. "You can still touch me," he growled. "I'm not made of glass." He then reached up and whacked Ka's jaw as if to demonstrate, but winced and came away gripping his side.

He then noticed the bundle of clothes Ka had been carrying, then to the barn, and sighed. "Look, I know it's rough, but you can't just up and leave like that." He looked away, voice quiet, "Lempkins may let us keep the wood you've collected, maybe we could…" he rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "Would you rather be around your own kin?" He said at last, almost as if defeated.

"Yes," Ka said at once. Then paused, bringing his hand up hesitantly. "But, I would miss you," he said. Slowly, he reached out again. This time he softly poked Cairo's belly, which awarded him a curt smack and an angry glare.

"I won't run away again," he said, hiding a smile. "Not like that… not without saying goodbye."

"Hmm, better not." Cairo grumbled, then quickly changed the subject. "Lempkins won't bother you today, but I did talk to him about your pay."

As if in response, Ka's stomach growled. The boy grimaced as he remembered the girl's words. About how he sounded like a monster.

Cairo, however, laughed at the sound as he patted Ka's arm. "I told him a growing boy needs three squares a day. He didn't like that much but," he winked, "I think he needs you too much to let you quit."

At this, Ka felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he sighed.

"Mmh," he grumbled. "Well, come on, then. We'd best tell him you're back or else he won't feed you. Get up, come on. I've walked out there once and I'm not doing it again."

At this, Ka paused. Poking him was one thing, but the idea of picking him up brought back nightmares. "I'm…" he began.

"Safe," Cairo finished. "And I'm going to carry my ruggedly handsome big brother so he doesn't have to walk with this ghastly war wound."

Ka almost smiled before sitting up. Safe? The idea seemed almost foreign now. Yet he found himself offering a weak hand for Cairo, who readily took to it.

"Alright, already," The human urged, waving him up with his hands. "Get your lazy bones off the ground and let's get going. If we hurry back, I can still get drunk before noon."

Ka raised an eyebrow as he slowly got to his feet, still taking extra caution. "Or not," he said.

Cairo clawed his hands and scrubbed the palm beneath him. This tickled a bit, causing a smile to finally poke through again. "Oh, come on, now," the man teased. "Little liquor never hurt anyone, did it?"

"Uhhhh."

"Forget I said that," Cairo said as they started walking.

It would be awhile before Ka would be comfortable touching or handling humans again. Maybe it was best to take something like this as a learning experience and move on, but it was certainly easier said than done. It took a while, even longer than it took for Cairo's bones to knit (which was much to Cairo's frustration) but move on they did. Still, the human made it a point not to throw any lamps at his brother from then on.

[wildlydeliciouspainter]

VI - the nighttrain part I

Hi! Been a bit busy lately but here is the next chapter of my stardew fanfic :D This time I added a bit more drama and tension for our adventurers. Hope you’ll like it!

Only a few mornings back Daya stood on the perron with Elliott. Now, she was leaving the valley with Sebastian on her side. It being well into autumn the days were short and nights long. So they waited for their train to arrive under the stars. To Daya it felt so fitting. The autumn sun that made her husbands hair glow fiery red, and now the moons soft light on Sebastians dark hair. The men and their characters could not have been more different from each other, and still each had been important parts of her life in their own way. While Sebastian leaned against a pillar and texted with Sam, Daya texted Elliott. “I miss you.” Almost immediately she gets a heart emoji back. “And I you dear. Can’t wait to come home, this hotelroom feels empty without you.” Daya smiles but her heart sinks when she thinks about the task ahead. She didn’t want to worry Elliott so just never mentioned her plans to help Sebastian in saving Abigail. And with keeping him in the dark, it felt like she was doing something wrong. It would have been so much different if he were home... “The train is here, Dy.” 

And indeed, as she looks up a modern looking train silently glides over the tracks towards them. Its colors are peculiar, turquoise windows and a purple body, the exact combination of a piece of iridium. When it stops, a low hissing sound from its engine make it sound like a living breathing creature. “So this monster is going to take us where we need to be?” Sebastian looks at the vehicle with apprehension. He mentioned his preference for his motorcycle multiple times, even though they where both set on following Rasmodius instructions to the letter. When the purple doors open to show a cozy coupé, Sebastian gently pushes Daya inside and follows her closely. The interior of the train is completely different from the exterior. Retro cubicles with gold and wood finish, dark red velvet chairs and blood red wallpaper give the train a classical look. Wall sconces and ornaments on every wall add to the mysterious atmosphere as does the faint smell of cinnamon. “Madam, Sir.” An employee in a spotless purple uniform with golden trimming takes them to their places. When they are seated the man gives Sebastian a golden key with a tag. “This is for the sleep cabin, we are here if you need anything. We hope you’ll have a pleasant journey!” After that the man disappears into another coupe. Sebastian whistles between his teeth. “Rasmodius didn’t spare any expense.” “Its important to him we succeed.” “True, and the rest of our journey will probably be less comfortable.” Daya nodds and picks up her phone again to text with Elliott. When Sebastian notices he scoffs. Daya tenses immediately and looks him straight in the eye. “What is it?” “I don’t suppose you told your husband about this adventure of ours?” “No.” Daya admits, blushing. Sebastian scoffs harder now. “Do you think he wouldn’t approve?” “I can make my own choices, its not that. Though you made sure it would be hard for him to trust you, didn’t you Sebastian?” “What is that supposed to mean?” Sebastian mumbles, his face pointed towards the window instead of her. “I meant what happened in the bar..” thinking back on what happened in the bar the night before the wedding still makes Sebastian cringe. It was a beautiful autumn night, and a lot of the villagers gathered in the saloon to cheer to the engaged couple. Sebastian happened to be in town to hang out with Sam and visit his mother. At first he was set on staying inside, moping and playing videogames with Sam and a couple of beers . It sounded like the perfect way to forget. But he didn’t forget, and the more hours past the more angry he got at everything that happened between him and Daya. And that anger redirected itself towards Elliott as always. He still though if the handsome poet hadn’t shown up he would be in her life. They would be getting married. “Hey, if you feel that way. Why don’t you tell her? Maybe she feels the same?” Sam said. Sam was sweet and supportive as always, and slightly slurring after three beers. Sebastian decided he would do just that. Tell her. Which he did, in front of everyone in the saloon. In the middle of Elliotts ode to his love he walked up to her and started to tell her everything he didn’t say before. The alcohol gave him the courage but the words where his. How sorry he was, and how much he loved her. All she did was sit there, frozen. Elliott stopped talking, everybody did. And then, well, he picked a fight. It wasn’t pretty, and it ended fairly quick. Elliott trew him off and when sebastian tried to lunge at him again Daya smashed a beerglass on the counter so hard that it made the whole of the valley shudder. 

 “You already up your mind that night.” He said, when his mind moved back to the train and the present, and turned to look at her. How furious she was that night. But now a sadness showed in her eyes. “I did.” She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “Then why are you crying?” “Because I loved you. I did, so so much. But you didn’t open up to me, and I couldn’t deal with your silence anymore... I was just never really sure how you felt about me.” Sebastian stayed silent but nodded. He wanted to touch her hand, but wasn’t sure that was appropriate. So he just listened. “And I waited for you to do the right thing for so long. Even after we broke up and you left for Zuzu. I was sad for weeks... But eventually I picked up the pieces, and focused on the farm. I healed for a year and that was when I connected with Elliott.” A smile glistened through her tears. “He was very passionate about his writing, and as soon as we became closer he started showing that same passion for me. We connected in a way you and I never did Sebastian, I can say that even though I missed your company.” 

Daya stares past Sebastian, at the scenery thats moving past the window. Afraid to look him in the eyes. “And right now, I just don’t want him to worry, thats all...Elliott’s bookdeal is important to him, and I want this tour to go well instead of him worrying over me wrestling shadowbrutes.” “I get that.” When Daya refuses to look at him Sebastian decides to stare out the window as well. They sit in silence for another hour when Daya asks for the keys. “I want to go to bed.” “Sure.” He puts the key in her hands but holds on to them. “Am I allowed to join you later? Or do you want me to sleep here?” Daya looks at the small bench and prays the cabin is spacious. “Sure, I won’t force you to sleep on the floor or this uncomfortably small bench.” “Thanks, I appreciate that. I won’t be late, just need to process this day a bit.” Daya nodds. “Take your time, I’ll leave the door open.” 

The corridor with the sleeping cabins is long and small. On Daya’s left the rooms and her right windows that now show the vague outlines of the mountains, shrouded by the night. “Found it.” She turns the key of the cabin and then texted Sebastian the location before she closed the door behind her, leaving the lock off. She takes in the room and curses. Its as she feared. The room is as cozy and romantic as the rest of the train, and one big matras stuffed in between two wall closets. There even is a fairy rose positioned on the bedspread. Her favorite flower. There is a little space between bed and door to walk and on both sides of the door a small rack for shoes. Above the door the luggage space, and thats it. Daya quickly stores her bag and takes of her shoes and clothes to get into her sleeping t shirt and leggings. 

After that she seats herself on the bed, leaving the curtains open and a bedlight on. She picks up the fairy rose and smiles. The blue variation is her favorite, and even in de dim lamplight its extraordinary aray of blue tintes shine through. It takes her back to the time she would visit her Grandpa’s farm in autumn. There would be fields filled with them, and she was allowed to pick one to keep in a vase in her bedroom during her stay. She always picked a blue one. Gently Daya puts the flower in the open closet space behind her head. Her phone is lying besides it, and shows a new message. Its from Elliott “Traveling gave me new inspiration. I’m thinking of a story inspired by a train. There is an idea for a chapter in the link under this message. I can’t wait to talk through concepts again from the comfort of our home. Missing you, mind and body.” Daya smiles softly, and let’s her feelings for Elliott wash over her as she reads the chapter he send. She falls asleep with the memory of his face and the low rumbling sound of the train engine, dreaming of the day of their reunion.

Meanwhile, a few coupes back, Sebastians night is less peaceful. He’s a nightowl, used to writing and programming till deep in the night, fueled by caffeine and sushi. It pushed his sleeping schedule to an, as his mother would call it, ungodly 3 am. That combined with the excitement of this journey made him sit on the train bench with a restless mind. His eyes wander off to the mountains outside. It started to snow, and ice crystals would get pressed onto the glass before melting and forming tears on the window. Sebastians mind is wavering between rescuing Abigail and a deeply uncomfortable set of feelings towards Daya. He knows she is the most skilled swordswoman in the whole valley, and if anyone could help him succeed its her. But he felt frustration when he saw her again after years apart. Living in Elliott’s cabin, content with harvesting snails and living in the shadow of the writer. He knew her as a fierce warrior that would stay in the mine till late and defeat monster after monster, gaining the respect of the adventurers guild and the rest of the valley. She used to approach Sebastian with a similar attitude, passionate about their relationship and doing whatever it took to remove the obstacles in their path. It still feels like a stab to the heart to realize he couldn’t keep that flame awake. All she needed was for him to open up, and let go of that shroud of anger he used to shield him. But he couldn’t see it, and it drifted them apart. He moved to Zuzu city and only kept contact with Abigail and Sam, while Daya got closer to Elliott every day. Elliott wasn’t particularly brave or outspoken, but his love for Daya was unquestionable and it made her bloom in ways Sebastian could not achieve. Staring at the pattern of melting snow he clenches his wrist and pushes it against the cold glass. As it hits him harder than ever before he mutters “I’m still in love with her.” “Sir?” The employee with the purple costume is back, a notebook in hand. Sebastians bewildered look doesnt scare him off in the least, and set on giving travelers the best experience possible he repeats his question. “Would you like something to drink sir?” Sebastian eyes the cart behind him, filled with bottles and glasses. It would be nice to turn of his thoughts for a bit.. but he shakes his head “No thank you.” Alcohol wouldn’t help him, he learned that the hard way. He just had to be brave. Brave in rescuing Abigail, and brave in allowing himself to have feelings for both her and Daya. He had to allow them to exist untill they faded. His feelings for Daya where eventually going to fade he reassured himself. Sebastian sights and checks his phone for the time. 1.30 pm. 

As his eyes move from the window to his phone he notices a glimpse of a shadow by the door but when he looks again its gone. It could have been the shadow of the man with the cart, but he wasn’t sure. “Yes, time for bed. I’m starting to hallucinate.” He mutters, and gets up to find the sleep cabin.

All the coupes Sebastian passes on his way are empty. The other passengers retired to their sleeping cabins, and he tries to find his own with Daya’s text as his guide. “Number 230, okay, that should be the next corridor.” As he moves into the corridor something immediately feels off. He notices movement in the back of the wagon, but can’t make up if there is someone standing in the shadows or if it looks like that because of the movement of the train itself. Cabin 230 is in the middle of the wagon and the door is slightly opened. “Daya?” Silence. He pushes the door open and feels something crush beneath his boot. As he bents over to pick it up and hold it to the light it seems to be a fairy rose, only its petals aren’t any of the usual colors. Instead of its vibrant blue or purple the flowers are black as coal. A sense of dread fills him when he touches the rosebuds. Its a feeling he remembers from some of Rasmodius relics, magic.. He walks back into the corridor, all the way to the end. There is no one there... when he returns to the cabin he locks the door behind him. Then he notices Daya’s, lying still on one side of the matras. “Daya, are you okay?”

He moves onto the matras and turns her around, positioning her head on his lap. When she stays silent he slides one hand into her neck to support her head and holds the other in front of her mouth. The soft pulsating motion of her heart is noticeable in the veins in her neck and her breath is warm on his fingertips. “Yes, dear.” She murmurs in a sleepy voice and wraps her arms around his body, burrowing her face into his lap. “Oh thank Yoba.” Sebastian whispers with shaking breath. He strokes her head gently. She tightens her grip around him in her sleep, unaware of the tenderness in Sebastians voice. Unaware she his touching him instead of her husband. “Well, your grip is still firm as ever.” He jokes, looking down on the sleeping woman. Its tempting to let her sleep like this, but apart from all the moral reasons not to, he also realizes he can’t get any sleep this way. Especially with all his clothes still on. So he softly wriggles her arms loose to take of his jacket and his shoes. His jeans he quickly switches for his sweatpants and climbs back into the bed. In the meantime Daya is still talking in her sleep. When he lays next to her she is murmuring about shadows. She reaches out to him with her hand and touches his chest right above the neckline of his t-shirt, resting her fingers there. “Saw one on the station today. A friend from the shadows. Linus...” That didn’t make any sense, why would Linus follow them? “Don’t worry about him now.” He whispered, as much to Daya as to himself, because the dark rose is still on his mind. “I think he is in the cabin with the blue ones, Elliott.” She then continued her riddle. In the back of his mind Sebastian had hoped she knew it was him when she held him close, and would have wispered his name but he pushes back that though and tries to go to sleep instead.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 15

After the Akuma battle, Max calls everyone who participated in the battle to talk about what happened. Felix and Marinette agreed to meet later when they settled at the hotel, only Kagami excused herself because she had business to attend to.

An hour passes before everyone is gathered in the boardroom, where all meetings are held. Max stays on the computer, Luka has served snacks for the Kwami and tea for the others, everyone needs to relax to give their opinion, that will help them a bit to wait for Hugo to announce that the food is ready and they can eat, the good thing is that they finished the attack in good time.

Damian feels uncomfortable, perhaps a little irritable at feeling that he has failed at something. It was not his performance in battle, he did what was expected of him exceptionally, even Paris has had good opinions about him, even though he's a child. It bothers him not to identify what caused that feeling.

Everyone notices how introspective the child looks, but says nothing. It's best to let him meditate on what torments him, in the end, only Marinette is able to reach him effectively without receiving an angry look or offensive comment. The child can touch the angelic with his mother close (but sometimes even the worst of his character comes out).

"We're ready." Felix enters the boardroom wearing only the most basic suit, the sleeves of his white shirt roll up to his elbow, and instead of his black shoes, he wears gray, fluffy slippers. Only Felix would present himself like this with the dignity of a king.

By that time, Chloe has also arrived, taking advantage of the lunch hour to meet them, even Nathaniel has taken a break and has arrived, his expression is that of someone who has not slept in three days and is not very wrong, really not he's slept in three days (at that point, Marc is tempted to knock him out with a spatula to get him to sleep).

"We can start." Marinette sits next to Damian after giving him a kiss on the head, he just erases his annoyed expression as a sign of appreciation, calming himself by having her close. "What have they discovered?"

Marc sighs and waits for Max to put on screen the videos of the surroundings of the previous Akuma, it remains to be seen if this last Akuma Purple Dolphin had a similar origin, but with two that are the same, he's sure that this is also the case. When the images appear on the screen behind the engineer, everyone pays special attention to what is displayed.

"Those are images from before Abraham Bélanger was Akumatized, the butterfly suddenly appeared in front of a single camera, so we can assume that our villain moves close to the victims." Marc explains what he had already spoken to Max and Luka, but now they will add the additional information and debate theories. "We didn't discover anyone suspicious, so we also decided to check each owner's vehicles and background. Only one caught our attention."

"A vehicle by the name of Leonard Daract, which is a false name. Although there are several with that name, none of them reside in France and they are not the owners of a car of the registered model. "Max shows the records it found on the screen, since the only real connection is an affiliation with a ghost organization that, due to its investigation, it's a cover for money laundering, but they cannot identify the beneficiary of said scheme. Nicely covered with lots of fake names and dead ends. "Also the name of Jean Laperriére, owner of a vehicle captured away from the origin of the first Akuma, is among the members of B.K. Company. "

"So our villain is good at hiding." Felix analyzes the screen, thinking about which way to go from there. They must be smart and stop walking behind the villain to start taking steps forward.

"That also makes it easy for him to activate organized crime in the city, he already has a way to finance criminal groups without being tracked." Nathaniel comments and then just mutters a few random ideas, plus a couple of curses for the extra work.

"And if he has one, he must have more." Alix gives her little opinion, leaning back in her chair. "That brings me to what I discovered with Detective Fontaine, take. “She pulls out a USB stick and hands it to Max.

In a short time the case files are projected on the screen, the pieces of the bomb found, the witness reports and the names of the victims. Everyone observes a particular name: Nora Bélanger, twenty-two, died on the way to the hospital, the daughter of Abraham Bélanger, the Akumatized victim that day.

"What was the name of today's victim?" Damian asks, feeling that everything has been in motion since long before.

"Let's see. "Max starts reviewing the files on the second computer he has, it's easier that way and he doesn't overload the laptops with so much open file. A couple of minutes later, he has it. "Victoria Jouvet, last night reported a robbery at her house, but it was dismissed and this morning she received a message about it, minutes later, well, we already know what happened..."

"Since when did the police dismiss cases? Alix, did you know about that?"Marinette frowns, she doesn't like how Paris's safety is being affected. Since Mayor Bourgeois was no longer elected and a new mayor took over the city, many corruption cases were disappearing and a dismissal of cases, especially with the return of the butterfly, is not the best practice to keep healthy emotions.

"No, I had no idea." She almost growled about it, maybe she should talk more closely with Detective Fontaine about what's going on inside the police. Too good that she discovered that MT has that kind of jurisdiction, Chloe excelled in supporting the cause, she deserves a reward.

Max continues to collect information and decides to place an alert for registered crimes in the databases, to classify them and be able to monitor the victims. Perhaps there is a way to handle the most violent crimes that Paris has not seen in several years. Yes, there are still murders, robberies and rapes, but it is not something that happens every day and now with emotions as a vulnerable point, they need a way to redirect the negative effect in some way.

"Then the police are falling into old ways, we must clean it up. Kudbel, do you trust that detective?" She nods, resigned to having Felix continue calling her by her last name, sometimes someone's name escapes him, but he corrects him immediately, although she knows that he's fond of everyone, even if he denies it. "So I need you to start a joint investigation, we will make a file of every police in Paris to find out who are the corrupt, we will clean the place to avoid Akuma for police negligence. Any inappropriate behavior will be suspicious, we will remove all the dirty laundry, we have long ignored the police issue. If we only keep two assets in the entire city, it doesn't matter, there is a selection of recruits in the academy that can begin to be sent to the field from the moment we take out the vermin."

"Agree. It's fortunate that Detective Fontaine enjoys being hated by everyone."

"Our guy, tell him we send greetings." Marc says to lighten the mood a bit, although everyone is in work mode now.

"We must create a support project for families, if these police officers have children they must be protected and not left adrift by the mistakes of their parents. "Marinette takes out her phone to write down a reminder to consult Hugo about the possibilities of creating a project about it.

Nathaniel nods in support, also pulling out his phone to check his bank accounts and see if he can support, he doesn't have the exaggerated amounts of money Marinette has accumulated over the past few years at absurd speed, but he's in the same situation that she just He accumulates because neither he nor Marc spend too much, the most expensive thing they have is the apartment and they don't even have a car. They don’t spend beyond what is necessary.

Alix doesn't comment, she, if it were not for living with Chloe, would have a slightly less stable life. Having her own art school doesn't give her millions, but it's something that she really enjoys, just like being an Art History consultant at the Louvre, she doesn't complain, but sometimes she0s surprised at the gap that exists between her and  others. Felix with his millionaire family, Chloe with his exorbitant salary (and the Hotel, which remained in her hands when André was imprisoned for fraud, Chloe didn't touch her heart when she reformed it completely and changed its name, leaving not even the shadow than it was), Nathaniel and Marc have a very stable base of money for their comic book editorial and recently accepted two new writers and three cartoonists for the publication of new works, expanding the franchise, Max has an annual profit that rivals With Luka and his record label, Kagami and the Tsurugi company double Chloe's annual salary (and that's a lot of money)... And Marinette, she has managed to accumulate so much money in just five years that she's close to surpassing Felix's fortune, if her earnings continue to grow at the rate  it's going (and having two Wayne as her clients, she is sure it will happen) she really will go on those lists of the world's richest people. Yes, she is the one who earns the least because even Kim has more stable earnings. And almost all of them have made their salary base in the last four years, working even before starting university.

The MT is full of crazies with money, definitely, but aren't all vigilantes like that? She can bet her kidneys that Batman and Green Arrow are also crazy with money.

"Then with the police business going on. I think it is time to research every company in Paris, find any links with shell companies and list them. That includes ours. ”No one complains, knowing they are not going to be sidelined just because they could end up showing that in court and it is better to avoid suspicion. "All employees must also be investigated. It would be good to speak to Borealis to find out if his informants have any suspicious information. "

"I'll tell him to give us all the information he gets at the meeting." Now it's Chloe's turn to get her phone out and start sending messages.

"Going back to the bomb, do you have suspects?" Marc asks, redirecting the conversation.

"Only one. His name is Felipe Lombard, he was released from prison two years ago. He was arrested for exploiting an apartment building killing seventeen people in Marseille, he was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison and... I really think it should have been longer, but he came out because he made a deal with the prosecution to help dismantle a group of smuggling of weapons that the police had been following for years, but had no conclusive evidence. It seems they found the connection with him and it was one of two, or cooperating or adding another twenty years to the sentence. ”Alix explains with little interest. "He was found dead this morning, according to the detective's call... So we don't know if someone paid him or if he relapsed. "

"Ridiculous, completely ridiculous."

"I think we need to expand our allies..." Luka murmurs, weighing their options, they may have the equipment, but they need more people to give them information and, although Aurore's informants are useful, they are not enough to have more precise control than it happens on the streets. And its allies outside the country seldom have information that relates to Paris in any way.

"Yeah, but we will discuss that when it is the first meeting of the Order." Says Marinette. "By the way, our trip will be short, the jewel is in Istanbul, so after the small obligations that Felix committed to, we'll return. "

"Right, we'd better be going." Felix nods at her words.

Everything is saved and sent to the central database, all are removed and most go to the dining room where Hugo has just arrived thanks to Kaalki. Only Damian doesn't follow the others and instead hugs his mother.

"Sorry. "

"Oh? Why?" She immediately returns the hug and strokes his head lovingly.

"I'm just sorry... maybe I did something wrong."

"You don't have to apologize if you make a mistake, I don't expect you to be perfect or someone you're not for wanting to please me." She smiles and cradles her son's face, she can see the conflict in his green eyes. "I love you as you're."

"Me too, mother." He hides his face in her chest and clings to her as much as he can, feeling really loved and at home. And he decides it's best to ignore the information about soul mates, Constantine's sour gaze upon mentioning it is proof that it's not pleasant for his mother either.

-------

R. Grayson: I have a question regarding the design you submitted

Marie Lenoir: Yes?

R. Grayson: Why is the lining of my suit violet?

Marie Lenoir: Combines with the tie and with your eyes, your shade of blue is very vivid and beautiful

R. Grayson: Thanks, although my eyes are nothing compared to yours

Marie Lenoir: Thank you, I'm flattered.

--------

Lila Agreste is not a bad person, at least, she's not anymore. Being forced to marry Adrien taught her a few things, as well as being a reality hit on the course she was taking in her life. By the time the marriage contract was released, she no longer wanted to have anything to do with the Agreste and marrying the blonde was out of her plans, but she did.

How it happened?

Well, Adrien invested a great deal of money in cleaning up the family name and pleasing her in any way she wanted, that was what persuaded her. But as the years went by, she felt less comfortable with the situation, but she came to sympathize with Adrien's stance and stayed for it, despite the fact that she fell in love with another man. If only the heroes were less useless and found a way to wake Emilie from the coma, she would be free to return to Italy and plan her life with her lover.

She doesn't love Adrien, but she's fond of him. Seven years married in a friendly relationship generates that, he never questioned her and respected her space, in addition to taking her on many trips and including her in various jobs. Yes, she knows that she takes advantage sometimes, but she also feels quite bitter. She doesn't even find herself to lie about anything, she just wants to get out of that horrible life and for that she must play her cards well or the last years would have been a waste of time.

With the only person who keeps in touch during school days is Alya (who doesn't know anything about the contract), the others made their lives far away or their relationships with them fractured, but she knows what has become of all of them because her beloved husband he mentions from time to time, in addition to maintaining a close friendship with several of them. He has even gone to some dinners with him, although she was always uncomfortable.

The only one relevant to her record is Marinette, she was surprised by the turn she gave to her life after that discussion with her parents. She stopped being the annoying girl from school and became a force to be reckoned, the Lady Black brand emerged strongly and remains lifted with the same toughness as the beginning, even expanding to other areas besides fashion.

She's jealous, yes she's, but she learned to recognize that all of that was her effort. She didn't marry anyone to help her, she doesn't even have a partner nor does she need her to have a child. She still doesn't know the famous boy, but Damian Lenoir is not a name that is foreign to her, Alya complained about how that boy seemed about to stab her boyfriend with a table knife... Lila still doesn't understand that possessed her to date that nefarious guy, neither all the money in the world is worth to support such a disgusting man.

"Lila, here!" She smiles as best she can and approaches the table. Alya invited her and, being the girlfriend of the mayor's son, it's a very luxurious place. She has gone there, of course, Adrien sometimes invites her to places like this to give the appearance of a happy couple.

"Hi. "She still doesn't like how effusive the reporter is.

"How was your trip to Kazan? Russia must be beautiful. "She begins, it's been a month since they last saw each other and then just a few calls, Adrien always takes a long time in the cities. Not that she cares, but that gives her time to have a good time at her destinations.

"Wonderful. Adrien paid a tour guide to take us to know the secrets of the city, of course, two weeks is a long time, but we found ways to have a good time while balancing work. "A little lie, she spent most of the time alone, but she's not telling anyone that. Perhaps the only ones who know are Adrien's friends and, again, she returns to that overly successful group. It would have seemed unreal if she hadn't seen their growth firsthand.

"That's great, Lila! I would like to travel more, but Michel is always busy, at least we have the opportunity to have dinner every night. ”She nods as if she was really interested in knowing something about her boyfriend, Nino was a thousand times better and also more pleasant. She still remembers with disgust when Michel tried to seduce her, if he did the same with Marinette, it doesn't surprise her that his son was ready to riddle him with silverware.

"It must be difficult being a surgeon's girlfriend, they can call him randomly at some point."

"Yes, but it's worth it."

Lila wonders if Alya knows or plays stupid, her boyfriend is no better than excrement, however handsome or wealthy he's. Although the reporter has a hard time accepting when she's wrong and after three years of relationship, it would be disappointing, yes, maybe that's it.

-------

­­Alya Cessaire @Alya.Blogs.Out

Reunion! @ LilaA.Rossi

[Attached photo]

Tim Drake @TimDrakeW_

My brother just can't contain himself from flirting, his survival instincts are on the underground

Jason @IAm_YisusXD

@TimDrakeW_ Now what did he do?

Tim Drake @TimDrakeW_

@IAm_YisusXD the normal... only now he forgot that her son has dogs capable of devouring him.

[heyitsn1kk1]

Nameless Pt. 2

Nameless

Part 2: Not a bounty hunter

Synopsis: our nameless assassin and her Mandalorian companion had tracked down their bounty, things don’t go exactly as planned.

*The plan is to finish this series before school starts back up again

*enjoy

—————————————————————

I’ll admit it, this it’s the exactly one of my brightest ideas.

Here I was, caged inside a rickety old ship with a complete stranger who happened to be a Mandalorian armed to the teeth.

Not to mention I couldn’t get a read on him because of that stupid helmet and his perpetual silence(aside form the insane amount of sighing that man did).

It didn’t set well with me how immensely vulnerable I was, nothing was really on my terms anymore. One wrong move and I piss the man off, then I’m royally screwed.

I’m no stranger to dangerous men, hell I make them my business. Yet I’m not conceded enough to not recognize when I’m in way over my head.

A Mandalorian, one of the most feared warriors in the galaxy, that is who yours truly decided to team up with.

Oh fuck I’m such an idiot.

My hand hadn’t left my dagger since I stepped onto the Mando’s ship and I gripped it even tighter now.

Suddenly I heard metallic clanking as my partner clambered down the ladder into the lower level of the ship from the cockpit.

I nearly drew my dagger but forced myself to look as nonchalant as possible.

“We’re here.” That’s the first thing he’s said to me since the cantina.

I hadn’t even noticed we landed, that’s how nervous I was. I needed to get a grip, nervousness on a job just leads to missteps.

The Mandalorian pressed a button located on the hull of the ship that lowered a ramp. He was about to step out before I interrupted him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He stopped and slowly turned towards me, titling his head. It almost looked like he was saying “ExCuse mE”. Perhaps he wasn’t that hard to read after all.

“Like I said back at the cantina, you are too noticeable in that gear of yours. You practically scream I’m a bounty hunter. Once word that a Mandalorian is here Krath will hightail it.”

I got off the crate I was sitting on and walked past him.

“Let me do some reconnaissance, I’ll be back before sundown.”

As a sauntered off the ship I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

Since when was it this hard to play pretend?

—

After asking around I found the resort that our Krath Wilgi was staying at. It was quaint compared to the resorts I’m used to in the inner rim. Less high strung and in your face, meaning it was much easier to snoop around.

I had managed to find a locker room where resort employees changed in and out of their work clothes.

I ‘borrowed’ a set and made my way around the property.

As I perused for the next few hours a plan was formulating in my head as I gathered all the information I needed.

—

“I’ve got a plan!” I say as I walked onto the Mandalorian’s ship.

He was presently cleaning his weapons when he looked up at me. I swear it looked like he was thinking something along the lines of “Is that so?”. I’d imagine it being in a condescending tone.

“His room number is 214, he has 20 personal guards which in my opinion is a waste of good money. Who needs 20 people following you around? Oh also there’s a bar on the lower level he is at right now. My guess is that he’s only there for a meal so let’s hurry up!”

I made for my bag and started pulling out different outfits, trying to find one that best suit the occasion.

“It’d be suicide to try and break into his room. What I’m going to try and do is get him alone. I’m assuming that fancy rifle of yours has infrared abilities correct?”

“Yes.”

Really the man does not say much.

“I need you then to get someplace high and monitor what is going on. We both need com links so you are able to tell me the location of all the hired guns for when I start moving the target.”

The red dress is too flashy...

“There’s an alley I’m going to lure Krath into. By that time the guards might be catching onto what is going on so I’m going to need to you snipe them if they get too close.”

I filled the Mandalorian on the specifics as I searched and finally found the outfit I was looking for.

It was an elegant but simple dress, one that alluded to money but not necessarily power. It was perfect for the occasion.

“Any questions?” I finally say sorta winded.

“...how many times have you’ve done something like this?”

“I thought my throughly thought out plan would speak for my experience itself.” I softly chuckled.

“But if you must know its more times than I can count.” I gave him a warm, hopefully trustworthy, smile

He just reached into a pocket a handed me the com link I asked for before.

“Thanks... now if you don’t mind I’m going to close the ramp and ask you to go back to the cockpit so I can change.”

I swear I’ve never seen someone climb up a ladder so quickly. I nearly laughed out loud. There’s something comedic about a big fearless Mandalorian shying away from a women getting changed.

My mind began to wander but I quickly reeled it in, now was not the time to speculate things about my partner. I had a job to do.

—

It took longer than expected but I finally piqued the undivided interest of the young nobleman. He really was a shy one.

As expected he was immediately intimidated by any sort of forwardness. So I opted for a persona that was primarily sweetness and cuteness over something sultry and seductive.

Luckily for me this whole cutesy act also convinced most of the guards around him that I was no threat, in fact they probably thought I was an airhead to be quite frank.

“Any day now.” Mando said over the com.

Shut the fuck up and let me do my job was what I wanted to say but for the sake of not getting on my intimidating partners bad side I opted instead for a softly whispered “I’m working on it”.

I’m quite the conversationalist, my entire career depended on it. So in no time I had the nobleman’s son waving off his guards as I led him upstairs to my ‘room’.

Unfortunately for him my room was a dusty back alley where I pressed a concealed blaster between his shoulder blades.

“Make this easy for me will you and keep quiet and walk forward.”

“B-but I thought—“

“You thought wrong now walk.”

I nudged him with the blaster and he moved forward.

“Okay Mando what’s the clearest path?”

“Incoming, you’ve got two guards on your tail.”

Shit.

“Okay don’t shoot just yet you’ll alert the rest of them.”

Mando was about to say something else but was cut off by shouting.

“Hey unhand him!”

Just my luck.

“Take one step forward and your client gets his heart blown out of his chest!” I snarled spinning around yanking the Mon Calamari in front of me.

“Listen to her!!!” He hoarsely cried out.

For a few breathless seconds we stood there staring each other down.

“A little help” I softly whispered into the com.

“I’m working on it.” I heard a grunt over the com over the sound of blaster fire.

Shit shit shit.

Suddenly there was rustling near one of the hired guns.

Something poked its head out from behind a trash can... a kid?

One of the hired guns noticed as well and I saw a spark light up in their eyes.

They wouldn’t dare.

Quicker then the kid could react the man snatched the him up pressing a blaster against the child’s temple.

“Let the Mon Calamari go or the kid gets it.”

“You wouldn’t—“

“I’m fucking serious bitch!”

The kid let out a cry of pain as the man shoved the blaster even harder against his skull.

“Okay okay! I’ll let him go.”

I was a lot of bad things, but I wasn’t the kind of bad that let an innocent child get killed.

“Drop your blaster too!” He spat.

I lowered my blaster and dropped it to the ground, kicking it away from me.

Krath made a mad dash and as soon as he left my side the hired gun turned his blaster on me and fired.

I anticipated the action and dove behind a broken crate. Yet despite my invasive action I still felt a sharp pain over the top of my hip as a blaster bolt grazed past.

Backup had come for the hired guns and they were shooting from all sides.

All I could do was huddle up behind the meager cover I had and pray that today wasn’t the day.

Then all the sudden the blaster fire was redirected, I risked a glance over the crate and saw mercenary after mercenary disintegrated before my eyes.

Now was my chance.

I leapt for my blaster and dashed after Krath who had a small posey surrounding him as they ran presumably to their escape craft.

I exchanged multiple shots, I even managed to take one of the guards down. But in the end they had a head start and easily made it to their ship in time.

I let out a frustrated cry as I shot multiple times at the ship, blaster bolts ricocheting everywhere.

“Fuck!” I screamed as the ship roared skywards.

Apparently I was causing quite the commotion as everyone in the entire shipyard was staring at me.

“The fuck are you looking at!” I glowered at those around me who swiftly resumed what they were doing.

Then the thought suddenly occurred to me.

My partner was back in the alley dealing with the rest of the hired guns.

I sure hope he isn’t dead I thought as I sprinted back to the alley.

As I rounded the the corner all I saw was sheer carnage. The alley was littered with bodies and ragged clothes(presumably the remains of the disintegrated). I was half expecting to find the Mandalorian among them when I head a voice behind him.

“I’m guessing he got away.”

I spun around pointing my blaster in the direction of the voice.

“Whoa whoa! It’s me!” The Mandalorian said with his hands up, a slight tone of panic in his modulated voice.

“Oh sorry.” I say as I lowered my blaster.

He did all this?

All the sudden my fear of the Mandalorian increased.

“And as much as it pains me to say it... yes he got away.”

I couldn’t meet his gaze and I mentally prepared myself for some sort of barrage of insults, maybe even death, but none came.

“You’re bleeding.” That smooth rich voice said.

In another circumstance, where I wasn’t completely humiliated, it would have been nice to hear that soothing voice concerned in a round about way.

I looked down at my hip and sure enough the fabric there was soaked with blood.

I signed deeply, I really did not need another scar.

“Let’s head back to the ship, you can patch yourself up there while I track where the bounty is going.”

He walked past me, not checking to see if I followed.

I stood there for a few moments collecting myself, it seems like bad luck is following me.

On the way back to the ship the Mandalorian surprised me with a question, or in this case it was really more of a statement.

“You’re not a bounty hunter are you.”

My heart skipped a beat.

I could flat out deny it, I’m a very good lier. I could say nothing... or I could come clean.

I was surprised by my own decision.

“No. I’m not.”

A heavy sigh was the response I got.

I suddenly felt the urge to justify myself.

“I’m an assassin, close enough to a bounty hunter...”

“But not the same thing” we both said at once.

I looked up at him but he was just staring straight ahead.

“Killing is easy enough, I never imagined keeping a bounty alive would be hard.” I admitted.

“Next time I’m wrangling the bounty.” He said and I could of sworn there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

For some reason I was determined to prove that won’t be necessary.

[theadventurek9]

Hello, I was wondering if I could pick your brain a little bit since you are basically doing everything I want to do with my dog. If all goes well, I will hopefully be picking up my Australian cattle dog puppy around Christmas. I know the early puppy stage is super important, but honestly all the information out there is a bit overwhelming. So... What should I focus on for a good foundation? links and resource appreciated.

Of course! I’d love to help! First though, I hope all goes well and you have a nice round fluffball for christmas!

There is so much information out there. I know I was incredibly overwhelmed when I was preparing to get Aayla. I wanted her to be a model citizen and my adventure companion. So I’ll list the things that I did with her I think that shaped her into a stable dog, and some things I wish I would have done differently. Okay so I wrote a lot more than I expected, I’m sorry!

In short, do a lot of socializing your dog to all different people, animals and environments. Crate train, do puppy group classes, use puzzle feeders, and reward your dog for being good! Find groups that train in events you might want to do. Volunteer, attend trials and so on. Even better if you can crate and walk around your dog way before they trial at other practices and trials. Let your dog sniff on a long line for walks. Don’t do any jumping/repetitive activity until full grown. Have fun!

If you wanted the long answer!

Research the breed! Know what you are getting! Talk to people who have raised cattle dog puppies. Whether that be the breeder, someone here on tumblr, or so on. I know that we both have herders so the main thing that is common is the nipping! They are bred to bite ankles, they are bred to snap at things that get into their face. Watch videos of working cattle dogs. Herders like to feel like they are in control and like to put animals in their place. Be prepared to walk around with a toy in your pocket. Redirect redirect redirect! Cattle dogs are a hard tempered breed, they tend to be opinionated! So you may have to work harder with socializing and basic husbandry more than your happy golden. Yet they are fun dogs! I’ve always liked them. If you’re looking into getting into dog sports or adventuring they thrive in it!

Crate training Do it. Its something you will use like crazy if you get into dog sports. It will give you peace of mind, helps potty training, and helps a dog learn to settle.

Socializing Okay so I’m constantly doing research on this. With my next puppy I will do some things the same and some things different. I want to my puppy to experience a lot of different people. Adults, kids, babies, elderly, men, women, people in uniform, people with walkers, and everything I can think of. Yet that doesn’t mean I want everyone saying hello and playing with my puppy. If I had another confident puppy I would err on the side of really polite people, who will listen to rules, can reward for sits, and maybe some petting if the puppy can remain calm. No jumping, no over aroused mental state. A nervous or shy puppy, can get food rewards dropped around the people they are unsure of, but are never forced to interact. Puppy doesn’t want to be pet, puppy does not get pet. Yet in general, just being around all these people while getting ignored. Great places for this are parks with playgrounds, home depot, lowes, breweries (non busy hours), coffee shop patios, neighborhood schools when kids get out, and any other dog friendly locations. As for dog socializing, the more I learn the more I find that puppy class socializing is not ideal. Find friendly, calm OLDER dogs (3+ years) for your puppy to interact with. Older dogs that are willing to correct without harming or terrifying your puppy. If you don’t have access to that, then do try to find a puppy socializing class. Your puppy should be around (but doesn’t have to play!) with a lot of different dogs.

Let your dog, be a dog. Let your dog sniff on walks, get a long line and give them some freedom. Let them explore and discover their world and not feel so confined to your side. If you have safe areas that you can let your dog off leash, (and you know they won’t take off) I’m a big advocate that off leash walking is really healthy for your dog’s mental health. But that being said, your dog should not bother any other person or dog. So make sure you have enough awareness of your soundings and a good enough recall to leash them when you are around others. Be safe, and I’m not telling you to break leash laws. If you can’t off leash, then long line is amazing!

Loose leash training started with Aayla the moment she came home pretty much. People often start way later and let their dog yank them around. I started around the house and back yard. If she pulled, I simply didn’t walk until she loosened the leash herself. I also rewarded walking with me, at my speed heavily. Aayla has pretty great leash manners 90% of the time.

Kibble in a bowl is a waste Kongs, puzzle feeders, snuffle mats, pupcicles and training are all ways Aayla ate as a puppy. Everyday I measured out the amount of food she should be eating, then had one bowl with a little of that kibble for every room in my house that Aayla had access too. Whenever I saw a behavior I liked from her, I had rewards close by to give to her. I rewarded chewing on toys, settling, laying on her bed, calling her name and she came to me...and so on. Then the rest of food was given in kongs or puzzle feeders when I couldn’t watch her and she needed to be in a playpen or crate.

Puppy classes I already mentioned I’m not the biggest fan of the puppy crazy play time. Yet if done well the play can be good. There should be short sessions of play with lots a toys and things to explore. It shouldn’t just be an empty room where all the puppies do is wrestle with each other. But I do have to say that getting into puppy obedience classes is really good for your dog. Aayla attended group classes her whole first year. We didn’t need help learning the basics, it was an opportunity for Aayla to learn to work with me in a distracting environment with other dogs and people around.

Find a community. So whatever sports your want to do, find clubs and trainers early. See if they have puppy level classes. They will help with a lot of the early stuff if they are good. Offer to volunteer at events! If you can bring your puppy (after 4 month vax) and have them crated at classes, events and trials. They will be a pro by the time you actually are ready to show yourself! Walk them around trials, and get them used to the environment. Plus let me tell you, getting into dog sports is SO MUCH EASIER when you have people that know whats going on to help you.

Don’t rush it - Spend a lot of time just enjoying your puppy. Go on leisurely walks, play together, not everything has to be super intense training. You have to wait for a lot of stuff for after their growth plates fuse anyways! So no jumping higher than their elbows, and no consistent jumping until after a year at least. Save any repetitive movement (like weave poles, playing strenuous fetch (think chuck-it stick until dog is tired)) until after a year as well. 

Keep it positive - Your puppy has no idea whats right and wrong. They are not (and never will) do anything out of spite or to get you back. They just don’t know what you want or how to be a good dog. So its important to have a lot of patience to help shape them into mature dogs. Reward reward reward. If you are able to ignore your puppy, they should be getting rewarded. The more fun you make training, the more fun it will be and the more your dog will want to work with you. 

Okay so I can’t think of anything else right now, though I’m sure I’m missing a lot. If you know what sports/activities you’re interested in I can give more details on those as well! Otherwise here are some resources for you!

+After You get your puppy - Ian Dunbar (Pretty great details on most common things, good read)

https://www.dogstardaily.com/files/downloads/AFTER_You_Get_Your_Puppy.pdf

+Fenzi classes are great! For a new puppy I’d look at a lot of the foundation classes. 

They have a self study that is: Raising a Performance Puppy

https://www.fenzidogsportsacademy.com/index.php/courses/24

Kikopup on youtube has some great puppy videos!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLF26FD559887E7EA4

If you let me know what else you’re trying to get into sport wise I can provide more resources too! 

Podcasts : Drinking from the Toilet and Cogdog Radio 

[sunevial]

Moving Day

This is once again another case of ‘not exactly a commission, but someone chucking money at me to eventually write about space and magic gays’, except this time, it’s from @hewhowalksbehind. 

Continuation of this.

---

Of all the things Venny missed most about Ylxret at nine thirty in the goddamn morning, it was automated coffee makers. Blearily pouring water down the little spout and pushing entirely too many shiny buttons, she eventually got the machine to start blinking. With a grumble, she slotted a floral patterned mug under the funnel and slumped against the counter. 

Water was boiling, oatmeal was in the new saucepan, spoon was in the sink, bowls were…

She forgot to buy bowls. 

Fuck a duck. 

Groaning, she pressed her hands to her eyes and let out a long sigh. After a shopping trip that must’ve lasted an eternity, she had been running on fumes by the time she had a chance to pass out last night, but apparently even that wasn’t enough to calm her adrenaline addled brain. Her best guess was that she hadn’t fallen asleep until three, and even that was a generous estimate. To add insult to injury, her first night in her new apartment was plagued by restless dreams, fitful tossing and turning, and a blanket that was neither warm or cool enough.

At least the air mattress was comfortable. 

The air mattress was comfortable, and her new plush corgi was cuddly.

A steady drip of liquid gold splashed into the mug, the warm coffee revealing heat activated yellow and white circuitry lines weaving through the painted-on flowers. Not even bothering with milk or sugar, she downed the coffee fast enough to get away with only minor tongue burns and shoveled down instant oatmeal straight from the pot. Throwing both into the sink to wash up later, she scrambled into the shower just long enough to wash off yesterday’s sweat and rub away the smell of what felt like seven layers of deodorant. A fresh change of clothes later, a practical t-shirt and legging combo, and she felt half-way to being a functioning person again.

Which was really convenient considering that things would start arriving in approximately now.

Grabbing both wallet and keys, she quietly slipped out of her room and padded downstairs to the front lobby. Today was Internet access, a ‘do it yourself’ table and chair set, and the cushions for her couch. The couch itself was tomorrow, along with the bedframe and mattress, and the nightstand and dresser wouldn’t be for another week yet. Thankfully, unlike her very much not present bowls, she had remembered to buy a toolkit, so at the very least she would have somewhere else to sit by the end of today.

A quick peek outside confirmed that the Internet people hadn’t arrived yet, so Venny plopped down on one of the lobby couches and quickly scanned for any available wireless hotspots. It would’ve been laughably easy to tap into a password protected connection with a couple waves of her hand, but she knew better than to bum off someone. It was also probably very illegal. 

Eventually, she got ahold of a weak signal from the coffee shop next door, and her com link lit up with a happy beep. Her eyes flashed back and forth as she redirected the electrical signals within the device, ensuring that this much weaker and simpler form of wireless communication would end up being compatible. When she was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be running at a snail’s pace, she pulled and weaved the software code until the screen lit up and the holoprojector displayed a rotating band of images. Smiling triumphantly, she tapped on her email, she still had a hard time believing Toven still used email, and sifted through the various messages she had gotten over the past day or so.

Confirmation from her Internet provider, spam, start day and paperwork for work, coupon for shampoo, more spam…updated delivery day for her larger furniture?

“Due to upgrades in processing time, your order will instead be delivered today around ten AM, we hope to see you then,” she muttered under her breath, suppressing a loud groan and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. On the one hand, she’d have an actual bed by the end of the day if everything went right. On the other hand, this was one more group of people to talk with and one more group of things to do, and she was not convinced that all of the coffee in the world would make either of those things easier. Not much she could reasonably do about that, though, because her damn couch was coming whether she was awake enough to realize it or not. 

Whatever happened next didn’t seem to follow the proper passage of time. Sometimes it moved breathtakingly fast, other times painstakingly slow. All Venny could register through her brain-addled eyes was a never ending blur of paper signing, hauling packages, and telling people she had never met to put things down wherever they could find open space. By the time the last person was out of her apartment, and she could actually gauge the passage of time, it was exactly eleven twenty-four in the morning. She collapsed onto one of the new cushions, a nice olive green that she definitely didn’t remember picking out, and got to thinking.

Assets: She had Internet access that wasn’t siphoned off the coffeeshop.

Consequences: Her apartment was no longer able to accommodate carpet angels. 

Priority one: Bed needed to be set up. She’d like an actual bed.

Priority two: Get the couch out of the center of the living room.

Priority three: Actually build the table so she could eat without standing up.

Problem: She had the energy to do maybe half of the bed set up. 

Slowly getting back onto her feet, she shuffled towards the bedroom, though not before noticing her front door still propped wide open from all of the deliveries. She went to close it, getting about halfway there before the door across the hall opened, revealing Sol’s relatively incredulous face. 

“Morning,” she said, leaning against the doorframe and stifling a yawn. “Lot of noise over there for a weekend morning.”

“That makes two of us,” Venny replied, trying to put on as apologetic an expression as she could muster. “I didn’t wake either of you up, did I?”

She shook her head, lavender curls bouncing a little. “Nah, I’ve been up for a bit, and Clarissa could sleep through a hurricane if you let her.”

“Still gonna apologize,” Venny said, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing a touch. “You know, I didn’t think most furniture places delivered on weekends.”

“Learn something new everyday.” Her eyes glanced towards Venny’s now incredibly messy apartment for a moment. “You settling in okay?”

Venny chuckled, tapping the ground absentmindedly with a foot. Well, she could answer truthfully, she could answer in the socially acceptable way, or she could split it down the middle and hope for the best. “I think so, just need to get used to...all of this.”

“It’s not easy moving somewhere new, even harder when you’re all alone,” Sol said with a sympathetic smile, nodding her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “If you need help getting set up, I’m not really doing anything today.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, shaking her head even as every fiber of her being was saying ‘take up the offer’. As much as she’d love another pair of hands helping out, she’d already taken up enough of Sol’s time between the reading interruption and the grocery care package. Best not to take advantage of her kindness this many times in such a short period of time. Or maybe Sol didn’t care, that she just actually wanted to help and didn’t resent her for it, and this was just a combination of sleep deprivation and anxiety talking. Maybe it was both. It was probably both. “I think I’ve got it handled,” she replied, twirling a twist between her fingers. “Thanks for the offer though.”

All she got in return was an incredulously raised eyebrow.

“Or maybe I’m saying that because I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness again and seem really needy in a time of upheaval and stress,” Venny said with a defeated sigh.

“I wouldn’t be offering it if I didn’t wanna help.” Sol smirked just a touch. “I know my boundaries better than that.”

Venny could physically feel the tension in her muscles drain away as she slumped against her own door frame. “I promise I’m not this pathetic all of the time.”

“You said it yourself, a lot of upheaval and stress, and from what it sounds like, absolutely no sleep either,” she replied with a shrug, popping back into her own apartment long enough to grab her keys and phone. “Alright, where are we starting?”

 “Bedroom, cause I need a bed.”

The two of them quickly made their way to the chaotic bedroom, surveying the bed frame in its various parts and the mattress propped up against the window. Cracking open the new tool box, Sol set to work screwing everything into place while Venny sorted through a veritable hoard of metal rods and support beams. While she had no reason to doubt that Sol could wield a hammer and screwdriver, watching her work was, in a word, beautiful. Sol took to the various tools with a clear familiarity, handling them with delicacy and certainty as she aligned the wooden frame. Venny knew nothing about art, but she knew an artist’s touch.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Venny said, holding a level against the wood to see if any holes needed a quick re-drill or if something had been screwed in the wrong place.

“I’d hope so, I make things for a living,” Sol replied, wiping a little sweat off her brow.

“What kind of things?”

Sol returned with a playful smile. “You get three guesses.”

She allowed thirty seconds to come up with her answers, no small feat with how slow her brain was chugging along. “Artisanal woodworking.”

“Nope.”

“Artisanal metalworking.”

“Nope.”

“Designing prototypes for this exact style of bed frame,” Venny said with a shit eating grin that was probably more of a result of her being half way to slap happy. 

Sol rolled her eyes, closing one as she carefully twisted the last screw into place. “Okay, I’ll admit, second one was closer.”

“So what is it?”

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Sol said flatly, tapping the frame twice for good measure.

Venny pouted, planting her elbows on the footboard and resting her chin on her fists. “Come on, it can’t be that out there.”

“I promise I’m not joking.”

“You could say you build rocket ships and I’m so tired I’d believe you.”

Sol paused for almost ten full seconds. “Funny you mention that…”

“Get out, you make spaceships?” Venny’s head poked over the frame with eyes wide and excitement clear as day on her lips. “You’re with the Wisteria Space Program?”

“Technically I’m in the rocketry department, not the spaceship program, but same idea,” Sol said with a shrug, jumping to her feet and whistling. Similar to yesterday, the wind kicked up, swirling around the room almost as if it was having fun. The mattress slowly but surely floated off the ground, providing just enough lift for the two of them to set it on the frame without straining muscles or having to worry about wingspans. 

“Still, that’s so cool,” Venny continued, grabbing the sheets off of her air mattress and throwing them onto the bed. “I don’t even think I know anyone back home who does that. What do you even do there?”

Sol laughed, grabbing the sheet and stretching it over a corner. “I’d tell you, but that’s classified.”

“Is that a joke or is that actually classified?”

“‘I might actually get arrested for treason’ classified,” Sol said in a completely serious deadpan.

“Anything you can tell me?” Venny asked, head tilted as her hands quickly smoothed out her blue and white comforter over the bed.

Sol thought for a full minute, arranging pillows and plushies absentmindedly as she paced around the small room. The wind followed her, catching her shirt and blowing it in every direction imaginable, almost as if it was thinking alongside her. “Physics. Lots of physics.”

“Dang.”

A knock sounded at the door, and for the second day in a row, Venny opened it to find Clarissa standing there with a large smile on her face. She had no gifts in hand this time around, but she was scrolling through her phone. “Sol texted me she was here helping out, you done stealing my roommate? I need her for something of vital importance.”

“I offered,” Sol called as she emerged from the bedroom.

“She still stole you!” Clarissa shouted back, though with a laugh and smile on her face. 

Venny returned with a grin of her own. “We should be done pretty soon. Though if it’s really that important, I can take care of the rest.”

“It’s not important, she’s just trying to get me to set up a dating app,” Sol said with a sigh and an accusatory finger. “Because my roommate is a nosy bitch who insists on setting me up with every girl she happens to meet.”

“It’s not every girl.” Clarissa huffed indignantly.

Sol’s face told a much different story with how frustrated those eyebrows looked. “You’ve specifically set me up with three of your exes, a girl from your class, and the florist down the street.”

“All I’m saying is that she’s got a great personality and an even better ass.”

“Then why don’t you ask her out?!” Sol exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Because I’m already seeing two people!”

It might have just been Venny’s ears, but she swore she heard laughing from somewhere else in the apartment. 

“Alright, alright, you can have your roommate back,” Venny said, holding back a belly laugh as best as she could. Never in her life had she’d been so grateful to hear two women loudly arguing about female love interests. Her family had been concerned with her moving to Toven, knowing that not every place was as accepting of non-heterosexual identities as Ylxret. New Haven had a better track record than most, though, and conditions were certainly getting better as time went on. If nothing else, seeing her two neighbors argue about sapphic love affairs in the hallway was a good indicator that she had nothing to worry about here. “Hope the app set up goes well.” 

“I’m not setting up the app,” Sol declared with a flat tone, going over to the boxed up table and cutting away tape like a woman scorned. “I’ll get a date on my own damn time.”

“I mean, if you’re looking for someone else to add to the list, I’m into women,” Venny joked, smiling at Clarissa. She watched the pink haired woman’s eyes light up, and hastily threw up her hands. “Not that I’m looking for a relationship, I’ve just moved and I think that might’ve been me not having normal social barriers up due to lack of sleep.”

Sol audibly groaned in the background. “Damn it, you’ve given her ideas.”

“Well that’s even better! You’re new in town and need to see the sights, and I know a great little place Sol could take you for lunch,” Clarissa said, pulling out her phone and rapidly texting. “I’m sending you the directions now.”

Venny blinked a couple of times, finally just realizing the full ramifications of what she had just done. At least she knew now never to open her mouth when she was this sleep deprived, or at least, not do so when possible romantic relationships were involved. Feeling the heat rapidly rising to her face, she shot a glance to Sol, desperately trying to find a way out of this increasingly awkward situation. 

With a sigh, Sol pulled out her phone and rubbed her temples. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Don’t be, it’s my fault,” Venny said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m really not in the place to be thinking about that anyways.”

“Then think of it like a friendly social,” Clarissa said with a large, not at all innocent smile, eyes darting first to Venny. “You need to meet people-” Her eyes flashed towards her roommate. “-and you need to get out more. Win-win situation!”

Sol’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “Clarissa-”

“Venny, what do you think?” she asked, smiling wide and oh so sweet. So this was a game for them both, a sort of give and take war between them, and this is the moment where she was supposed to choose a side. Her next move decided the winner of this match between these two equally stubborn individuals. 

She was already on the edge of the diving board, might as well take the jump.

“What’s the food like?” Venny asked, putting on her best innocent smile. 

Sol sighed in defeat, grumbling and pulling out her phone. “Stir fry and dumplings. Let me know when you’re free.”

Clarissa grinned with a smile that could split the sea. “It’s a date!”

[real-jaune-isms]

Volume 7 Chapter 3 Review

My first time with this, it’s probably gonna be longwinded and awkward...

Starting off with 3 scenes basically happening at once is interesting. The airship flying them in to start the mission, Ruby and Jaune getting briefed on it, and the whole crew getting their gear upgrades. The briefing conversation plays over shots of them all getting their personal briefcases of stuff, and of some normal soldiers fighting smaller Grimm in the tundra. The new clothes scene is most important though. We see: Their happy faces, Blake and Jaune both pondering haircuts while Jaune runs his hands over the sash he kept from Pyrrha (ow my heart), Yang attaching her arm upgrade, and Ruby getting at a new cape before Oscar approaches her. Oh, and on the briefing screens RWBY and JNR are registered as civilian Huntsmen. They have their licenses!!!!

Let’s talk about the cape for a sec. Her red cloak has been an heirloom she’s kept for 6 volumes now and about 17 years. The last vestige of her mother. So is it really such a good idea for her to get a new one and just go with it? Is that abandoning the sentimental value and very essence of the original cape? It’s been worn and weathered since Volume 4, so an replacement or a stitch job would be good, but the latter would be ideal. I don’t really mind the new one so much because she asked for it and clearly she had a reason for that. It’s the exact same in every visual way as far as I could see, and she’s keeping the old one. The message is still alive in her wearing it, and times must change. It’s better to get a new one than risk damaging the original any more.

Anyway, after we see the few shots of them prepping for this mission, a very old Geist possessing a bunch of ice and hiding in a Dust mine, the airship doors open and we see the team in all their new glory. They jump out accompanied by the Ace Ops, and all make stylish landings. Ruby only uses her pogo gunshots to slow her descent, and Blake swings her weld fixed Gambol Shroud to Spider-Man swing around the buildings to land. But Weiss and Yang use their semblances to do it, and the aura percentages on Blake’s scroll later represent that accordingly. Good attention to detail. And we hear from Weiss that using your Aura can keep you from freezing, a good reason why they can all wear such stylish clothes and not die of frostbite.

After Clover checks in with all the groups about keeping in contact and keeping an eye on Aura levels, Blake catches Yang staring and they have an adorably awkward exchange about Blake’s haircut and how Yang likes it but doesn’t know how to express that. Marrow seems annoyed he has to watch a high school love story unfolding in front of him, but Harriet teases him about being childish and that shuts him up. They head toward the mine entrance, but Team RWBY hangs back to discuss how uncomfortable they all are with having lied to Ironwood last episode about Salem and the lamp. But Ruby reasons that they don’t know if Ironwood is in the right mindset for that bombshell right now and they WILL tell him soon. Fair enough. A flashback to Oscar’s interruption earlier reveals he’s pretty torn about it too since it’s exactly what they hated Ozpin for doing to them. Either way, they enter the mine and a comment about the path being blocked leads to a chilling realization. This is the mine that caved in and killed Ilia’s parents. This is why her life went so terribly, and it’s a major reminder of the awful relationship between humans and Faunus and how bad things can get. That prompts Weiss to try and apologize for her own bad attitude about it all in Volume 1, and some harsh truths from Marrow about complacency with injustice for the sake of living free of making those hard moral choices. Wise words, a lot to think about with this world and even our own.

But there’s no time for thinking about changing the world’s prejudices, they need to send Blake through a dark opening in the rubble to see if it’s safe for them to blast a hole big enough for everyone or if there’s any nearby Dust they might agitate. I get the whole faunus seeing better in the darker area of the cave thing but... couldn’t Marrow have done it too? Or was he too big and thicc and they had to send the lithe teenager? I tease, I tease. Height and muscle mass may be the legit reasons, plus her weapon is also less bulky. Before she goes in, both Blake and Yang see the SDC logo printed on some discarded boxes, likely a reminded of the last place they saw it: branded on Adam’s face. Not a good memory to recall in a tight situation, but it shows they’re still dealing with that. Good news is, when Blake goes through there’s no Dust on the other side. Bad news, the Geist gives a legitimate jumpscare that literally makes Blake jump back in surprise and pull her weapon to shoot at it. That of course clues the others in that she found something, and we see Harriet’s weapon as she deploys mechanized armor to go over her arms and boost her punching strength. Reminds me of the controls for a mech, fake arms you wear and move in the cockpit to move the real giant ones. But these have plenty of power all on their own and bust open the wall of debris. Makes sense to boost her upper body strength to counterbalance the power in her legs.

They chase the Geist into the mine until they encounter the new Centinel Grimm burrowing up from the ground. Team RWBY gets to show off their weapon upgrades/new moves as they dispose of them: Blake does a lot of slashing and stabbing as usual and Weiss does mostly the same plus shooting ice at the bugs and using glyphs to stop them from lunging. But the real stars seem to be Yang and Ruby. Yang added sticky bombs to her gauntlets’ arsenal, and Ruby can now spin Crescent Rose’s blade 180 degrees to slice a severed centinel half on her backswing. Cool. But Marrow shows off his own party tricks with his rifle that becomes a large blade edged boomerang and the ability to stop two Grimm still with nothing but a snap and the word “stay”. Clearly a reference to dog obedience training and possibly showing the power words can have, a reference to The Boy Who Cried Wolf, which I still believe he’s based on. All that kid had to do was say the word and the entire town came running to face a supposed threat. However, I’ve also heard that his inspiration is actually “A Dog and it’d Shadow”, which might suggest he’s going to go down a bad path for the sake of his own benefit... Regardless, Harriet zooms up and tosses the centinel against a wall, which seems to stop it. They report sighting the target and engaging with further hostiles to the others, who take that as a cue to speed things up. When next we see them, Harriet runs past Weiss and Ruby to take down the last Centinel with a single punch before Ruby had time to even take a shot at it. Instead of being petty about a kill steal, our little rose goes gaga over Harriet having a speed semblance like her, while the Hare of course boasts she seems to be faster based on Ruby’s reaction time. They suddenly hear Clover announce he’s fighting the Geist with Qrow, and when it eludes them too everyone converges in a central cavern.

Now let’s talk about JNR’s section of the mission until they meet up with the others. They make their jump too, Jaune having added Hard Light Dust to his shield and using it like Link’s paraglider in Breath of the Wild to float down gently, and then gravity Dust from the central crest to negate the final impact and bounce into a flip landing. Stylish~ We don’t see how, but Ren and Nora landed fine too. And their accompanying Ace Operatives Vine and Elm give rather indirect compliments, much to Jaune and Nora’s annoyance. As they walk through an ice tunnel and Vine reports its stability and their approximate time of convergence, Nora gushes about how exciting it all is before turning her enthusiasm on Ren. He handles a direct compliment about his new outfit about as well as Ren handles any show of emotion... he does not. He just tries to redirect the topic to the mission. Annoying to all the Renora shippers, absolutely, but also kinda his MO. His semblance, his very nature since the tragedy of Kuroyuri is to not get emotional because that can get them in trouble if it’s at the wrong time. He still needs to learn there are plenty of right times to have emotions, LIKE WHEN YOUR UNOFFICIAL GIRLFRIEND WANTS YOU TO RETURN THE COMPLIMENT!!! He better learn from that mistake... But at least there’s dense as a rock Jaune to compliment Nora instead and miss the point of what she was doing. The good boy is trying his best to be nice.

When they hear RWBY’s squad announce the fighting has started they start booking it and slide down an icy slope that’s revealed to have Centinels emerging at the bottom. Vine uses his semblance to stretch out and grab hold of the walls and Elm uses her’s to root her feet in the ground, both so they can stop moving toward the enemy. But that’s not JNR’s style, so they charge right into the Grimm and take them out quickly. A gravity burst shield bash from Jaune, new grappling hook mode for the blades on Ren’s guns, and Nora just bashes some skulls. This approaches earns another indirect compliment before they took finish the journey to the main mine cavern.

Meanwhile Qrow is with Clover and looking very cool in his new digs. They head in and discuss Qrow’s history of teamwork and how he doesn’t really do that anymore... cue sad STRQ vibes. Also he almost trips and Clover catches him, a perk of having someone at your side. After he gets the rundown from Elm, we don’t hear from thes two until they’re chasing down the Geist. It reaches its icy armored body, and gathers extra pieces from the walls around them. Qrow notices one bit it’s trying to get will pull down a support beam and warns Clover to stay back... just in time. The Geist gets away, but in its wake the two men share a conversation about Semblances. Qrow reveals his misfortune and how it burdens him to solitude or else situations like that one could go way worse. But Clover surprises him with the fact that his own Semblance is, of course... generating good luck.

The look Qrow gives him... a lot of people say it’s gay panic as he falls head over heels for this charming military man who can balance him out. I’ve come to see it a bit differently thanks to another post I saw. It’s regular panic. Panic and self-loathing, because he sees his perfect mirror image. Clover is sober, charismatic, a good leader, doesn’t ruin things with his very presence, and has skill and wisdom beyond anything Qrow has been able to demonstrate. This is everything he wishes he could have been for the kids from Volumes 4-6, the kind of huntsman he wants to have been at Beacon... a version of him who might have been able to keep Team STRQ together. But it might also be him getting a crush on a charming guy who balances him out. Regardless, they call everyone to meet up in the middle.

And meet up they do, the various types of Dust in the large central chamber having such effects as floating the dirt their boots kick up and evaporating a drop of Jaune’s sweat when it hits the ground. Cool set piece, though they need to be careful with how they fight otherwise they could set off the Dust and ruin the Amity Satellite launch site... and kill them. The Geist is hanging from a giant piece of ice jutting from the ceiling, and when the teams spot it the big boy dramatically drops down to fight them. Ruby panics upon seeing it added Dust to it’s body so they’ll have a harder time fighting it safely, but the Ace-Ops kick into action almost immediately. Elm and Vine use their Semblances to keep it in place and expose the Grimm joints between its ice limbs, which Marrow throws his weapon to sever. But that leaves some Dust crystals falling through the air, so the Flash gets the lightning in his eyes and speeds in to catch them before they hit the ground... Oops! I mean Quicksilver does his Days of Future Past thing to move around the falling debris at superspeed and grab the Dust... DAMMIT! I mean Harriet gets the lightning in her eyes and pulls a Days of Future Past to move around the falling debris at superspeed and grab the Dust. But the boomerang cuts another part of the arm and knocks more Dust off out of her reach. Lucky for them, Clover is there to catch it just in time. He passes the crystal to Qrow and jumps into the action.

The Ace-Ops continue to run around the Geist and to distract and disorient it, and they get the other arm off. With a flick of his lucky charm, Clover jumps up and loops his fishing line around the Geist’s mask face, and it actually hooks. What comes next brings a look of astonishment to Team RWBY’s faces. He pulls the Geist out of the ice by its face, and Harriet runs up its torso to give a jumping Shoryuken with her mech fists to kill the Grimm. But that leaves a lot of Dust crystals falling through the air, and the Ace Ops scramble to grab all of them. One remains and Harriet runs to get it... it’s a close call... and Ruby beats her to it. Who’s faster now?~ But much to Ruby’s surprise, upon seeing her in action Harriet claims Ruby’s Semblance is unlike any speed Semblance she’s ever seen, that there’s probably more to it than she realizes... or we do for that matter~ I can’t wait to see what they do with that. Yang points out that Ruby has an awful lot more going on in terms of power than Harriet realizes, earning a grin from Weiss and a very cute giggle from Blake. Regardless, mission accomplished and Qrow and Clover have a little banter over if Ruby’s catch was luck or talent. Glad to see the Atlas MVP’s acknowledge our Team has some skill of their own. Even happier to see Elm effortlessly put Ruby on her shoulder and carry her around to celebrate while Yang and Nora start dancing.

Next thing we know we’re back in Mantle as the police ship drops Forest off. He goes into an alley, where Tyrian suddenly appears under a flickering light to creep us all out and kill a short lived fan favorite character. RIP, good good protest boy. 

And that’s pretty much it. Sorry it took a while.