#Killy Shoot

[thewordisbond]

Onaje Jordan is all about "Elegance" Featuring Killy Shoot, GeneralBackPain & Chuck Chan

Posted on https://www.thewordisbond.com/onaje-jordan-is-all-about-elegance-featuring-killy-shoot-generalbackpain-chuck-chan/

Onaje Jordan is all about "Elegance" Featuring Killy Shoot, GeneralBackPain & Chuck Chan

Hardworking producer Onaje Jordan returns to the forefront with his latest release titled "Elegance". The soulful drumless backdrop is peppered with gripping verses from Massachusetts emcee, Killy Shoot, California spitter GeneralBackPain and upstate NY producer Chuck Chan.  The result is a disp

[stinkypeanutbutter]

here me out . .

Nevermore X SBG au .

you can applaud me now ☝️

[daisyachain]

Blame vol 1-6:

Fractal levels of detail in the setting. Each panel has nuts and bolts showing within metal panels within concrete structures. Can’t imagine the time it would have taken to render each page like that consistency, without the simplification that comic artists tend to incorporate over time

The disconnect between the realistic backgrounds and the B-grade depiction of humans in a lot of the early chapters isn’t even a drawback. The spindly, long-limbed creatures look unnatural. They’re nonnative to the environment where the silicon creatures fit in better.

No matter how mad good the quality of the illustrations are in terms of worldbuilding implied, the action is consistently hard to follow. By devoting the same attention to every rung of every utility ladder along with the major structures, the art doesn’t draw the eye to any particular spot on the page. You’re left to make something of the rebar vistas presented rather than being given a clear depiction of the events happening. Can be fun, mostly just makes me wish I had more time to spend on appreciating the art rather than trying to figure out which tiny black-clad frame is plummeting across the panel this time

Kind of a chore to read before Cibo shows up. Killy’s a fun guy, but it’s hard to get a sense of direction for the plot without any dialogue and with the aforementioned parsing problems

Speaking of Cibo, there are surprisingly solid character dynamics that I wouldn’t expect from this kind of a high concept manga.

Cibo fits the hero role better than the well-intentioned but silent Killy. Remains to be seen whether she keeps it, but it’s been a real treat watching her play the plucky adventurer, the last-minute rescue, the chief negotiator, having an actual impact on the plot. Can’t believe women are humans too. I keep thinking we’re about to have a moment where her fragile female emotions cause her to make a misstep and get bailed out by Killy and it hasn’t happened even once. So far.

Mensab and Seu’s thing is a lot more cliche of a lady-knight dynamic and it still worked. Because it’s a good manga. You do feel for Mensab’s loss when her only companion gets wiped constantly. You do feel for Seu’s helplessness when he can understand she’s bummed and knows it’s beyond him to understand why.

Electrofishers are fun! I like that some of them survive (:

The Toha Heavy Industries feels like the first point where an exercise turns into an actual narrative. Now that it’s over, I’m excited to see where we go……..

[voidsentprinces]

Trying to stick to seasonal aesthetics. Cause its something I can generally stick to year around. And it puts my queue to work. But if its ever too samey or spamming for your tastes, I've begun shelving it under: { void queue and a } the a stands for aesthetics...cause I am boring like that.

[imjustheretotrytohelp]

Not to get ahead of myself but I don't think many people will choose the last option, yet that's what Mohammed (@ayeshjourney) does everyday for his fellow Palestinians. Not only through his work in the health sector, which is in and of itself extremely dangerous as it involves going into perilous area to help injured people. But also because he is tirelessly working to vet fundraisers on the ground, which also means getting through some of the most targeted areas of Gaza. All to make sure other Palestinians can get their fundraisers shared and brought to attention.

His work is inestimable, that is why we should support him as much as possible. He is now asking for our help : his brother needs to repair his hearing device and get the appropriate medical support due to his hard of hearing condition. On top of that, him and his family are currently displaced, in an area where IOF troops and tanks are stationed, trying to hide from frequent shootings. And now he is getting accused of being a scam by zionists, which is greatly impeding his fundrasing efforts!

If you have chosen the second option in this poll, then please consider helping Mohammed and his family out. Donate any amount you can and share his fundraiser. They need to get to £10k urgently!

GFM link

Paypal link

Tagging for reach (dm me if you want to be removed) :

@daily-click-reminders @womenintheirwebs @2spirit-0spoons @fleshdyk3  @tumkaafiho

@balaclava-trismegistus @ripley-stark @itsfookingloosah @rooh-afza @shesnake

@7bitter @tortiefrancis @killy @toiletpotato @fromjannah

@cripsycremecuckery @blueberryblowfly @mione-g @monstermashpotato @starless-gaze

@rodent178 @tangledinourstrings @kraigeslist @2kreebs @br-eddrolls

@caseys-soup-corner @shoogachi @whoopsiedaisy20 @squidie-tittie  @dreamingamongthestars

@salty-mush-soup @illiterate-words @mindfulruminate @fluffykitty149  @bdluejay

@giritina @bug-s0da @naggingatlas @punkitt-is-here @biconicfinn 

@akaratna @ezras-starry-bridges @meowmaids @springacres @yvenin

@ultra-creepy-fucker-things @anthophobiajum @littleladybaker @istillseeeverything @battleofthegarys

[opencommunion]

urgent: 2 days left to pay rent in Gaza

November 18th: $1,130 / $2000

@mohammedhaboubsblog's parents Adli and Rania’s rent in Gaza is due on Nov 20th.

Adli and Rania have been paying this exorbitant rent to take shelter in a shared house, and they have nowhere else to go. if they can’t pay the rent in time, they will be displaced again without any shelter, and will still need to raise this money immediately to purchase a tent and other necessities of life. they can barely leave the house currently because the zionist terrorists shoot at anyone who moves. relocating to a displacement camp would be extremely dangerous.

they urgently need our help. please support them by reblogging & donating whatever you can spare:

tags for reach below, thank you!

@tortiefrancis @starstrucksnowing @timetravellingkitty @catgirlcaliphate @jinnazah

@jehadism @irhabiya @watchnpray @stuckinapril @fairuzfan

@soracities @bloglikeanegyptian @handweavers @trans-axolotl @plomegranate

@briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @schoolhater

@pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @anneemay @bedufairy

@libraryposting @geeseareassholes @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy @edwordsmyth

@chilewithcarnage @psychotic-gerard @post-brahminism @bringmemyrocks @arslanjae

@determinate-negation @khanger @kibumkim @qattdraws @brutaliakhoa

@sharingresourcesforpalestine @neechees @mothblossoms @handsworthsongs @mangocheesecakes

@reduxskullduggerry @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @kyra45-helping-others @log6 @7bitter

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @palms-upturned @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid

@capricornpropaganda @communist-ojou-sama @xinakwans @heritageposts @velvetys

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat

@watermotif @mavigator @feluka @killy @ethioirhab

@lacecap @littlestpersimmon @socalgal @ghelgheli @northgazaupdates2 @vakarians-babe

[helpoutcharity]

Just because they stopped shooting doesn’t mean they have anywhere to go

There is nothing left for them, and I ask you to provide the funds to grant them evacuation to Egypt where there is anything there for them.

@cinnamonnt @lunannan @mefiman @tim-the-rat @sphinxgirlbaeddel

@curtain-caller @pryexel48 @nillabean @pastelsilkmoth @tot-en-tanz

@mxwhore @desire-mona @beserkerjewel @sketiana @trendytransgender

@healercharm @pronouncingitwang @sloppystyle @saltycharacters @cloudofdarkness

@turtletoria @brittklein18 @lakesbian @shadowofmoths @pawberri

@bisexuel @trans-axolotl @britomartis @wrightfamily @6oys

@amorosebeing @murenaaaaa @thesblu @batricity @zeia-reblog-blog

@lonniemachin @dykesbat @ghelgheli @toiletpotato @killy

@khudrang @m-an-u @rdx-dcm @sleepyhomosexual @arty-cakes

@mai-monnie @nightydraws @mysteryvhs @theothergal @mere-glim

224 notes

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[cdr2002]

So one of my favorite things the mirror universe does is put characters in positions their prime selves would hate.

Spock is forced into a leadership position neither version of him would particularly want, though his role as a revolutionary does echo his prime self founding the Unficationist movement later in life.

Smiley, similarly, has even more responsibilities thrust on him than the already overworked prime O’Brien. You just KNOW he’s still having to maintain that bloody space station while also leading the revolution and having to shut down Bashir’s stupid gung ho ideas (thank the prophets for Tuvok) and keep him from shooting their own guys (again)

Federation values peace first Georgiou is reflected by a brutal Emperor who later takes delight in working for Section 31, who are practically the Federation’s “Wolf Inside” to steal a phrase

Freedom fighter Kira is reflected by a slavering dictator who takes a perverse delight in causing cruelty and tries to garner validation while doing it in a manner not at all dissimilar to Dukat.

Tilly is TERRIFIED of Killy and she’s ever really met her.

But what if, for another way to show the mirror universe taking familiar faces and having things go catastrophically wrong? Before anti fascist revolution takes hold and hopefully steers things to a better path, that is.

The wrong people, in the wrong places. The worst people in positions of power.

The novels already had a kernel of this idea with Supreme Legate Dukat as leader of the Cardassian people, and without any Dominion deals to make it happen. Let’s expand on that.

First Minister to Bajor and second most powerful Bajoran after Intendant Kira? Why, Kai Winn of course. She may even take the role of Intendant after Kira’s fall from grace.

Leader of the Klingon people? Many stories give this job to Regent Worf, but I say, what if he is only a regional governor of a section of space under his rule? The throne holder back on Qo’Nos? The man with the cunning to place himself on top? No doubt with Cardassian help for “the good of the Alliance” of course. A man with no respect for Klingon tradition?

I submit to you, Emperor Duras.

Let’s go a century back, to. The Terran Empire would REWARD Kodos for his “original thinking”. A man with such power and prestige that Kirk can’t risk his career to kill him, but he would like to.

And let’s not forget Garth of Izar. Genocide is horrifyingly normal in the Imperial Starfleet, he’s NOT getting mental health treatment. He’s probably still a beloved war hero, maybe even a powerful admiral. A potential contender for the Emperor’s throne after the loss of Georgiou.

Sometimes the darkest reflections are all too familiar.

[jacobtheloofah]

okay i decided i wanna replay fallout 3 and really try to uh know enjoy it, cuz i kinda hate it. and i have many thoughts which i shared elsewhere and im barely past the supermarket and i just wanna talk about two comparative moments between 3 and new vegas cuz it was tumbling in my head a bit:

in fallout 3 you go to megaton and likely end up at moriarty’s bar, and when you go there some dude, burke, beckons you over and says “hey wanna blow this city up” to which i, someone who doesn’t care about wanton destruction without any plot motivation, say no. i then encounter the sheriff later and see you can snitch on that guy, so i see where it goes. the sheriff runs to the bar and confronts him and this is basically how it goes:

sheriff: you’re causing trouble, you’re coming with me!

burke: ah, forgive me my dear fellow, it seems there was a misunderstanding.

sheriff: don’t fuck around with me, you’re under arrest.

burke: nuh uh.

sheriff: yuh huh.

burke: okay fine lead the way.

they then begin to head out until burke shoots the sheriff and kills him, and the only thing stopping that dude from walking out of the bar where everyone saw him kill their trusted sheriff is you, so you can kill burke and then it’s just done. i dunno if there’s long term consequences of it all cuz i just loaded a save cuz wow that all was so fucking anticlimactic.

let’s compare to one of the earliest encounters in new vegas: you wake up in this town and head to the bar where a woman gives you some pointers on shooting, then she says go talk to the bartender since you’re new in town. you head back into the bar and the bartender is having an encounter with a no good bad guy. you talk to the bartender and find out they’re protecting a guy who the bad guy wants dead, cuz yknow they’re decent folk. you go talk to the hiding guy and the bad guys want him cuz they ganged up on him and he fought back. you can also go talk to the other guy and side with him and find out their deal, but you can also side with the hiding guy and gather the forces of the town to battle the bad guy and his gang, and then guess what you have the control to stop them and help the town folk survive. and then when you fight those guys you encounter the rest of them out in the world and deal with them accordingly cuz now you’ve got a reputation among them. and by the way you save that guy and he says he owes you, and later in the game you go to his caravan head base and he finds you and repays you the rest of what he owes.

do you see the difference there? in fallout 3 you get basically 3 options.

1. blow up the town cuz muahahaha

2. don’t do that cuz fucking why would you do that

3. try to deal with the guy trying to blow up the town, maybe this leads to a quest to figure out why the fuck he wants to do that, but oh he just kills the sheriff and nobody cares and it’s back to square one.

that’s all. kill or dont kill. no talky, talky leads to kill or no kill.

in new vegas you encounter a situation in the middle of things, you can talk to people and see where their heads are at and come to a decision for which way to go based on that. and when you do make your choice things simply happen the way they happen, there’s no scripted deaths there. if a townsperson dies cuz you didn’t get enough folks to help with the defense then that’s that. but you can actively work to make sure the situation goes as good as it can, and you get rewarded for that not just monetarily but by feeling the impact of your decision throughout your playthrough.

fallout new vegas is about a rich world full of perspectives where you go out and try to understand that world and those perspectives, and you get to make decisions based on what you learn. sometimes it comes down to killy shooty punchy, but more often than you expect you can talk it out.

fallout 3 is a retro-futuristic theme park where nothing matters and everyone talks like an asshole.

oh and fun fact in new vegas, the game where decisions matter and you can talk through situations, you can actually kill anyone and everyone. in fallout 3, the game where the stakes are made up and the dialogue doesn’t matter, many npc’s are too important to die so you can’t kill them. make sense of that shit.

anyway play new vegas it’s great.

[mercurygray]

Shooting stars, for Marion?

I hope you don't mind the crew I roped in for this one, Killy. It was a nice little character moment.

Dances were really for the young people.

She was not a girl of twenty-three any more and staying up until all hours wasn't really something Marion's body could still afford. An appearance for the sake of appearances, a single drink, perhaps a round or two on the dance floor if someone felt like it, and then a hot water bottle and bed. She had a distance to maintain with them - leader, confidant…part-time mother figure. If you'd told me five years ago I'd have a rascally pack of sons I'd have told you you were crazy, Marion thought to herself with a smile. And yet here we are - in loco parentis.

And here was one of them now, the biggest and rascalliest of all of them - Major John Egan, presently cooling his heels and his very long legs outside the officer's club, enjoying a cigarette and the night air with an air of expectant ease.

"Seems like a strange night for you to be outside, Major," Marion observed with a little smile, listening to the raucous sounds of the band going full tilt in the officers' club. "Usually you're right in the middle of things."

"Oh, you know, just - getting a little fresh air."

Bucky was all casual avoidance, stretching his legs and arms and yawning a little as he settled back into his seat with an air of complete relaxation.

"Not …waiting for someone?" Marion asked lightly, already fairly certain she knew the answer. Bucky's smile tried its very hardest to hide, his expression just this side of sheepish. "Seems to me you've been seen a lot with the same girl, lately," she explained, waiting to see what he would do. "And I notice Lieutenant Callaway's still on shift."

His smile turned stormy, and he sat up a little, assuming a more defensive posture. "It's not against the rules, is it?"

Marion almost wanted to laugh. Would that stop you if it was? Bucky Egan didn't give two bits for rules, generally speaking, and she doubted this was enough to make him start. "Of course not," she assured him. "Just…a little surprising, is all. And I like to be surprised like that. She's very lucky." The mention of luck seemed to mollify him, a little. She paused. "Is it …serious, do you think?" Cordelia Callaway's a serious girl - not…really your usual fare. And she didn't want to have a thing to do with you for quite a while. So what changed, Mister Egan? Was it really just the war?

That wasn't so hard to imagine - that a young man who'd started having a regular daily brush with death would start to think about what he'd be leaving behind. But then again, there were plenty who took the opposite road and started living like they had nothing to lose, and to hell with anything that held them back from that. She would have considered Bucky among them, until recently.

Not that she minded the change. There were far fewer girls crying in her office now - and far fewer catty fights down at the barracks to break up. Cordelia Callaway was still good at her job -- and now smiling while she did it. But she wasn't the easy-come easy-go romance type - never had been. One of the reasons she never got along well with Bucky when he was kissing his way through half the girls on base, probably. There would be trouble, if one or the other got a different idea about where this was going. (Young hearts would mend, but they still broke, all the same - and that came with consequences. That was why there were rules about this sort of thing, rules that Marion was prepared to overlook at this moment because the two parties involved were easy enough to separate, if it really came down to it.)

So, Bucky? Is it serious? She watched him carefully, looked sheepish again, his gaze turned down to his shoes. For once in his life he seemed not to know what to say, and when he spoke, it was slowly, deliberately. "Is for me. I think." His face changed, abruptly, and she was reminded, in his suddenness, of just how young he was, boyish in his begging. "You won't - tell, will you?"

You won't tell - as if he were speaking of sending a baseball through a window, or sneaking an extra cookie. The earnestness of it tugged at her. Don't let her know I like her that much. Don't let the world know I can be serious, too. She felt bad, now, asking him if it were serious - so many other things required that he grow up too fast and she wasn't sure she wanted this to be one of them. "Your secret's safe with me, Major," Marion said with an abbreviated smile, spotting the distant figure of her lieutenant coming in from the direction of the women's barracks. "Lieutenant Callaway," she said, by way of a warning shot, and Bucky sat up like anything and looked in the direction she was speaking. "Major Egan was telling me he owes you a dance," she said, pleasant as she could, watching Cord's eyes light up a little at the suggestion. "You two enjoy your evening."

"Thanks, Captain," Cordelia said, a bit hesitant, and took the arm that Bucky was offering with a moment of blushing surprise, their heads moving closer together the moment they moved inside the doors of the club while she doubtless asked him what Captain Brennan had been talking to him about and he made up something to cover.

"Leaving already, Captain?" It was Major Harding, apparently just joining the festivities himself, uniform immaculate. She found herself appending that he looked handsome and settled for looking down at her shoes.

"It's a bit late for me," she said. "Early morning tomorrow."

The CO nodded, and went on his way, and Marion couldn't help getting a slight flash of disappointment from him. She considered warning him about Egan and Callaway, knowing the interest he took in such things, and thought the better of it. After all, I did say I wouldn't tell - and I think that includes Father, too.

[moghraidhs]

wheel of time zizibenny be upon ye ;) couldn't have done this without some enabling so thank you killy!! i had a blast with this

enjoy :))

They're talking about her again.

Zizi can't hear them, but she can see them. The novices, whispering behind their hands. The sisters, from her own ajah and others, watching her with drawn brows and narrowed eyes.

She shifts the daggers in her palms and looks away, back to Gale. "Again."

They've been doing this almost every day for the past few months, ever since she came back to the Tower. Zizi knows the whispers are directed as much at her training with an unbonded warder as with actual weapons instead of the One Power, but she doesn't care. Gale is as stubborn as she is, refusing to make things easy for her, and he doesn't ask any questions. Not even about why she's training with him instead of Benny.

Zizi doesn't want to think about Benny. She doesn't want to think about anything. That's why she's here.

She takes a deep breath and adjusts her stance. "Ready."

Thrust, parry, deflect. After all this time, it's become a comforting rhythm. Easy not to think. She likes that. Even with the Power humming under her skin, practically begging to be used.

She ignores it. She's gotten very good at ignoring things.

"Sister Zizi?"

Though she recognises the voice, Zizi doesn't turn around. Not until the third time, and then she moves as deliberately as possible. "Yes?"

Sister Evyla's narrow lips have all but disappeared, pressed together as they are. "Perhaps you would like to assist me in a demonstration? There are a few novices who require instruction." She gestures to a gaggle of wide-eyed girls behind her, watching Zizi warily.

Zizi wonders how much they know. For a place that prides itself on secrecy, rumours spread in the Tower like a disease. Besides, it's not as if she doesn't have the scars.

"You're one of the strongest in the Red Ajah," Evyla presses. "And it's not as if we couldn't use the numbers. A demonstration might help some of these novices decide where they want to go after their Test."

Show me what you can do.

Zizi reaches up to her neck before she can stop herself.

Nothing there. Just like yesterday and the day before, but that doesn't stop her from feeling it anyway. Cool metal against her skin. Blinding pain.

She hands the daggers back to Gale and reaches for her outer robe before answering. "No."

Evyla's dishwater-pale eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"No." Perhaps it's wrong of her, but Zizi takes a malicious delight in the shock on the older woman's face. "I have other things to do."

She starts to walk past, but Evyla's hand shoots out and grips her arm. "It's been months. The Amyrlin might have told us to be patient, but there are limits to what even you are allowed."

The unexpected touch sends the world spinning, leaving Zizi teetering on the edge of dark emptiness. Evyla's words are lost to the roaring in her ears, the overwhelming urge to lash out and run.

"That's enough."

Zizi feels him more than hears him, the bond pushing awareness through her bloodstream and bringing her back to the present.

Benny moves between her and Evyla. For once, Zizi is glad of his height; the shelter of his broad back allowing her to regain some control. No one else needs to know just how close she had come to losing herself - again.

She takes advantage of Evyla's loosened grasp to jerk free. "The next time you put a hand on me I take it off. With the One Power. Will that be enough of a demonstration for you?"

Evyla's mouth drops open, but Zizi doesn't wait for her to answer. She brushes past Benny and heads towards the stairs, fists clenched tight at her sides.

She's free, but the touch still lingers. She wants to scrub it off, burn her robe and tear the skin raw. A reminder to herself to never let anyone lay a hand on her against her will again.

Footsteps echo on the stairs behind her and she stops. "You don't need to follow me, you know."

"I know."

Zizi turns around and then wishes she hadn't. The longing in his eyes is like a blade to her chest, carving through flesh and bone.

"So why are you doing it then?"

Benny shrugs. "What else should I do?"

She can feel him, hurt and love and devotion all at once and it's too much. Inviting her to break down when that is exactly the opposite of what she wants right now.

She steps closer. "Maybe I should mask the bond. Would that be enough for you to leave me in peace?"

It's cruel, and she knows it. Part of her readies itself for the fight, even as the other part cringes from the pain in his eyes, the knowledge that she's hurting him as much as herself.

Go on, she thinks. Tell me I can't do it. Give me a reason.

A reason not to fall apart.

He doesn't. Just looks at her as if he can see right down to her bones, then moves back out of her reach. "As you wish."

He turns and walks back down the stairs. Pain flares in Zizi's chest, almost cutting off her air.

She wants to call him back.

She doesn't.

~

Josie visits her the next day.

With over a dozen witnesses to what had happened in front of the training ground, Zizi had half been expecting to be called before the Amyrlin. What she hadn't expected was for the Amyrlin to come to her.

"You know, I should make you do penance for this. I always forget how long the walk is between your chamber and mine." Josie is smiling, but Zizi can see her eyes scanning the room - the smashed mirror, the abandoned robes, the empty hearth. With a graceful move of her hand, flames spark among the ashes, banishing the cold.

Zizi swipes her hands on her breeches awkwardly. "You could have just called me to the Hall."

"I could. But I think we've known each other too long for that." Josie looks at her. "What happened with you and Evyla?"

"She wanted me to channel for the novices. I said no."

"She claims you threatened her."

It's instinct that has Zizi baring her teeth, anger flaring before she allows herself to think about it. "She was lucky I didn't have my knives."

The words spit into the air, ugly and mean. There was a time, long before this, when Zizi would have died sooner than threaten a sister - even one as infuriating as Evyla. That time is long gone. She doesn't recognise herself now: an animal backed into the corner, snarling at the slightest movement. Just another part of all that had been taken from her. All that she'd let the Seanchan take from her.

"Zizi," Josie says gently, and Zizi realises with horror that her eyes and cheeks are wet. She turns away, scrubbing the traitorous tears from her face ruthlessly. Josie doesn't stop her, or try to touch her. She just stands there and waits, and for that Zizi is both humiliated and grateful.

"You should send me away," she says later, seated in front of the fire. Josie had had some food brought up and the remains now lie between them, along with some tea and spiced wine.

Josie brushes crumbs from her gown. She looks younger in the dim light, more like the girl who'd shared Zizi's dorm for months than the head of the entire White Tower. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't belong here anymore. Not after…" She touches her neck automatically, tries not to flinch. "I can't channel. I won't."

"No one is going to make you," Josie says quietly.

"I can feel the Power, but if I try…" Zizi stares into the flames. "I can't tell if it's me or not. If someone is making me do it. I won't let anyone make me do anything ever again."

"What about Benny?"

The mention of his name tugs at something under her skin, raw and wanting. She avoids Josie's gaze. "What do you mean?"

"You're rarely together these days. Do you want to break the bond? Start over?" Josie's voice is light and even. "Reds rarely bond warders, so I doubt anyone would question it if that was your decision."

Zizi's fingers dig into her palms. "He could die."

"He's dying right now." Josie doesn't raise her voice, but the words still feel like a slap. "When you were gone he was beside himself. All those stories we used to read about being warders lost to grief…right in front of our eyes. You're home now, and yet that pain hasn't gone away. For either of you."

Zizi closes her eyes. "He wasn't there."

"No, he wasn't. But he felt you nonetheless and he still does now." Josie sighs. "People like to say our lives are not our own - bound to the Tower, bound to serving the world around us. I'm not so certain I believe that, though. Our lives are not our own because they are bound up in the people we meet here. Friends. Lovers. Warders. You are a part of me as much as I am of you, but so is Benny. And I do not believe you want to cut him out."

Tears threaten once more and Zizi bites the inside of her cheek until it bleeds.

I'm afraid.

Josie's hand rises and Zizi feels herself tense, but the fire merely stirs to life again. "It's cold," the Amyrlin says. "I would rather not see you fall ill."

She smiles a little, and Zizi feels the gentle touch as clearly as if it had actually been given.

~

It's hard to sleep. Zizi blames it on the bed, a world away from the thin, hard mattress in a Seanchan cell. The kind they'd given her after she'd broken.

She sits up, nausea swirling in her stomach. Barely manages to make it to the basin on the washstand before she throws up.

After, she goes downstairs. The tower is quiet at night, but there always people around: sisters returning from or going on journeys, the occasional novice working out their penance, a sleepy servant or two. No one seems to notice her, or if they do they pretend not to.

Zizi doesn't mind. Her throat still burns and she can feel herself trembling, reflexive little shocks running through her body. She wants…She doesn't know what. Doesn't want to admit it, even in thought.

She finds Benny in the training yard, practicing. He doesn't see her at first, but his dog does. The huge animal, part wolf apparently, pads softly over to her, nudging at her hip with his nose.

Zizi crouches down and strokes through soft grey fur. As if sensing her distress, the dog nuzzles closer and whines.

"Zizi."

Sand scrapes beneath Benny's feet. He sits down next to her, close, but not enough to touch.

Zizi doesn't look up. She doesn't dare. "I couldn't sleep."

"I couldn't either."

Silence.

"You were scared," Benny says at last. "I could feel it. Are you alright?"

Zizi looks at him then. Really lets herself look, for the first time since coming back.

He looks tired. Has more stubble than before, cheeks hollowed in. His eyes are the same though: kind, even with fresh pain swirling in their depths.

"I don't know," she says. "I'm not sure…I know what that means anymore."

The tears break through at last. She's too tired to squash them.

She can feel Benny watching her, feel him holding back even as the echo of her pain travels through him. He won't touch her, Zizi knows. Not unless she wants him to.

Somehow, that knowledge gives her the courage to move closer.

It takes several moments and more than a few steadying breaths, but eventually she gets close enough.

He doesn't move.

Tentatively, Zizi rests her head on his shoulder. Braces for the worst.

There's no pain. Nothing bad happens. For some reason that makes her cry harder.

She's not sure how long it goes on, but it's a while. Benny stays the whole time.

~

"I can't channel anymore," she says after it's over. There's a bittersweet relief in saying it at last, after carrying the fear around in her chest for so long. "I can still touch the source, but I…I don't want to channel. Not yet."

Maybe not ever. That part remains unspoken, but he hears it anyway. Like she knew he would.

"You're still an Aes Sedai," he says. "And I'm still your warder."

"I'm sorry. For earlier. I don't want to break the bond." Admitting it feels like weakness. Zizi forces herself past the yawning chasm of fear to say the words regardless. "I don't want to lose you again."

Benny presses a kiss to her hair, so light she almost thinks she imagined it. "I'm here. As long as you want me."

Always. She doesn't say it. It's late, and she's never been one for foolish admissions. This peace is new, fragile, but it feels better than anything has these past few months. Like a beginning.

She closes her eyes and lets herself doze. If there are nightmares, at least she's not alone.

[basilone]

Hi Killy? How about #20 caffeine, dealer's choice for characters. Thank you!

Ooo, thank you for this one! 💙 I'm delighted at it being dealer's choice, as this got me to try my hand at writing my fave of faves: Rosie. I do hope I've got him down right! (Slight, slight spoilers for the most recent ep apply!)

caffeine

The base is somewhat beautiful when the sun’s still low. There’s a slight haze hanging just above the dewy grass, too thin to be a full-on fog but lending this early morning a particular enchantment all the same. Gold streaks flicker through the last vestiges of night. If she squints at the treeline hard enough, its greens will mingle with the twinges of red in the dawn. Like Christmas painted through a misty window.

It’ll be a while before Christmas comes, now, though the mornings aren’t getting any warmer.

Imogene puffs up her cheeks. Blows warm air between her hands, then rubs them together briskly. She’s forgotten her gloves again. Margaret’s not about to loan out her perfectly good set of spare gloves, either, if that glare from earlier is anything to go by. And Jeannie is nice and all, but the knitwork on her gloves is absolutely drenched in perfume. Imogene lets out a sigh. Contemplates the risks associated with running back to her bunk and praying her own gloves will be in the place where she put them last.

Truth is, she hasn’t got the time. Jeannie’s already taken off at a dead run for the bathroom for the second time in an hour, which has got Margaret fuming in a way that’ll at least make sure the sink’s going to be so spotless you could eat out of it. Imogene would be more worried about Jeannie if this wasn’t already the fourth time a girl like her was prone to retching her guts out in the morning and being just fine and dandy in the afternoon.

These girls, like some of the men, barely stay long enough to learn their names.

And then, of course, there are those few who seem to stay a lifetime.

“One for the road, Captain Rosenthal?”

His answering laugh is soft, but his joy somehow never fails to meet his eyes. “If you can spare me a cup, yes. Thank you.”

“It’ll be a little minute, sir, sorry.” Imogene shoots him the closest thing she’s got to an apologetic smile. “I hope you can wait that long to get your latest dose of caffeine. These new coffee makers are a bit slower on the uptake.”

Captain Rosenthal hums a little to himself. “I believe I can find the time for it this morning, Imogene.”

“Glad to hear it, sir. Congratulations on your twenty-fifth, by the way!” She’d meant to say that about five days ago, but the party had turned raucous and strange in equal measure before she’d had the chance. And the men had been pretty tightly knit around him, at least before the mood had taken another tailspin downward. “When are you due to go home? Is it a ways away yet?”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot the way he always seems to do when contemplating something important. His gaze fixes on the horizon. Well past the planes on their hardstands, beyond the line of trees and buildings. Like there’s something in the early morning sky only he can see.

Imogene waits him out the way she always does. There is no hurrying Robert Rosenthal, not when he is pondering something important before his first coffee of the day. He might have something interesting to say once the idea lands and takes root inside him. Last time, he had made a small comment about bird migratory patterns that had somehow evolved into a conversation about penguins at the zoo. The time before that, he had asked her something about hairpins – not a topic for a man, or so Margaret had scoffed after – before he’d leaned forward ever so slightly and told her some of his men might have gotten their hands on a second helping of chocolate through the cunning use of hairpins. (DeBlasio, if she had to name one. It’s always the goddamn Italians getting into trouble on this base.)

“I’m not too certain Florida will agree with me.” His smile is almost remorseful, as if he has contemplated the idea and found himself to be rather like a fish out of water. “I’d miss this weather. Gruesome chill in the air this morning.” He shudders just a little, more to himself than to her. “And I have to say, Imogene, I’d be hard-pressed to find better coffee than this.”

“Now you’re just flattering me, sir,” she laughs, grabbing a pristine white cup for him. “We do what we can, but the stateside coffee just tastes better if you ask me. I dream about it sometimes.”

“The perfect cup of coffee? Bit of milk, two sugars. Little bit of foam on top, perhaps.” There’s a twinkle in his bright eyes as he steps closer, keenly awaiting his morning shot of caffeine. “What is your poison of coffee choice in this world, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Imogene hums to herself. “Bit of milk, bit of caramel, sir.” She almost wishes she had enough time to foam the milk up a little, give it a bit of a whisk before stirring it into his cup. “The sugar’s too cloggy. Caramel syrup works just as well to sweeten it.”

“I take it there is no secret stash of caramel syrup on base here?”

“You”– she gestures with the little spoon –“would be correct, Captain. Perhaps you can sneak me some, once you’re back home?”

The shadow that passes over his face is gone as swiftly as it came, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t see it. Imogene sucks in a rather noisy breath. Feels a chill swoop down and back up her spine in a way that’s got very, very little to do with the morning cold of early March. He glances back at the horizon a moment. Wistful, her mind supplies. Then: yearning.

She’s seen it before. In Major Cleven and Captain Rivers, every time they were kept on the ground too long. In Major Egan, once Major Cleven had vanished and left a hole in the fabric of reality itself. In Stella Lombardi, whose eyes never quite seem to meet the ground anymore, and in Two, who might just survive them all. There’s something in the set of their shoulders. Something in their eyes, once you know where to look.

Imogene looks. Sees. “You’re not going home.”

Blue eyes, brighter than any morning, meet her gaze. “Not just yet.” His confession hangs in the air between them a moment. She fills up the space with a mostly full cup of coffee, milk and sugars already stirred in, and is proud when her hand does not tremble. “We have work to do here, don’t we, Imogene?” His bare hand brushes her own before he lifts the cup in clear gratitude. “Thank you for the coffee, as always.”

She takes a deep breath. Steadies herself on the counter, just out of his keen gaze’s reach. “You’re very welcome, sir. Same time tomorrow, then?”

A laugh startles out of him, bright and beaming and so alive that she wants to cry. “Same time as always, ma’am.”

[spareparts-vn]

the episode 3 demo was really good........ can't wait for the full thing!!

Sidenote: its 4/13..... I Need to know if any of the characters would read homestuck

thank you!

lucy killie and nova are of the homestuck generation. a young killie took a lot of gender presentation from dave and a young nova projected a lot onto dirk. lucy was a little obsessed with aradia and shipped her with vriska in secret. karina's scrunkly is karkat. hanne doesn't give a shit

damien and 02, if they haven't already read it, have it near the top of their list. damien loves all the trolls but especially equius and nepeta. 02 was one of those readers that picked up on davekat early on but expected nothing from it until suddenly getting vindicated way later.

01 has no knowledge of homestuck and if someone were to tell her about it lucy would shoot them with a gun. bellatrix has read the entire thing and has little to say about it. violet has doc scratch on her kin grid but if you ask her about homestuck she'll stare at you with a smile and zero other response.

here's what melanie's tier list would look like if she read it

but she doesn't have time for that shit anymore

[meatball-headache]

Okay, I'm going to go ahead and get attached to this guy. Ishum the Unstable. My first character was a Pilgrim, because I think it looks cool, and they have powers like Meditation and Fasting. I made him and Esper with mind powers—Sunder Mind, Stunning Blast, Disintegration, and Dominate Beguile (I thought Dominate would work the way Beguile does)... and, for a defect, Quantum Jitters. Fun!

This guy died, and I reused the build a thousand times and they all kept dying. Sunder Mind has a long cooldown, Disintegration kills my ally, and they both tend to keep me still so the vortex can suck me up when Quantum Jitters kicks in.

I made a new Pilgrim Esper. This time, I gave him all "Unstable Genomes," so he has no powers to start with, but gets random stuff later. Let the dice do the talking! ...of course, this meant I couldn't do... anything, at the beginning. My plan was to find some fish and shoot them with a gun to get my first few levels, and abilities.

Lo and behold, the random village I started in... is populated by Pilgrims! What's more, their random history is something like "Since time immemorial, we suffered the chore of speaking to peers. But then, one glorious day, we discovered the truth of loving the act of procreating." So they don't do small talk, they just get straight to fuckin'. Nice!

What's more, the random quest from the mayor was to venture to a lair of a legendary fish! Too perfect—I wouldn't even have to search for a pond myself, they were sending me to one. I managed to steal a bow, and bought some arrows, and went out to the pond to shoot some fish, and it went well. I gained the power to clone myself, so now we have two bows. I was hoping for Light Manipulation or something a little more... killy, but, oh well. I also got... Time Dilation. Not the godly mental killing machine I had hoped to be, but, oh well!

Next I went into the lair proper... only to find that the fish's lair was guarded by a goddamned rifle turret! Fortunately, it was around a corner. I cloned myself and let him chip away at is, while I waited in safety. A few rounds of that, and it's dead, and we got into the lair... only to find that it was blocked by boulders. We couldn't find the sacred flesh, or whatever they were after, so I went back to the village. I realized I forgot to try their Official Town Meal, and... it gave me quills! Natural armor! Powerful weapons! Mwahaha!

This is... the stupidest game of Qud I've ever seen but I love it. 10/10, game of the year.

Now let's see how long it takes for me to get killed...

[lucifer5lucy]

Some lazy sketching for y'all.

I swear lucifer was shooting stares at Lucy when she took killi out and left the house of lamentation in utter chaos.

[sweetheart-haely]

Gitcha comes out swinging with an array of weaponry, though he does occasionally confuse one for the other. He solved the problem of trying to use his Shoota as a Choppa, but solving the opposite problem has so far eluded him, since merely taping a slugga to his axe didn’t seem to work.

I did actually try attaching a slugga to the axe but it looked bad, and even an ork would object to not having a way to shoot the thing. Besides, he looks pretty killy just the way he is. I think I used the wash good.

47/100