#also wanted to fight the colour wheel but unfortunately that’s not possible

[aceofchairs]

bsd 113 spoilers!! consider yourself warned

[allsonicgames]

Sonic Lost World (3DS)

Original Platform: 3DS

Original release: 29th October 2013

Available to buy: No

With lovely graphics, full video cutscenes and voice acting, Sonic Lost World is definitely a visual treat for a 3DS game. I originally reviewed this when it originally came out so I was curious how my feelings for the game had changed.

Playing it again, and I think the controls are an issue as they don’t feel intuitive at all. Running up walls, especially design sideways, feels clunky, and I found myself jumping instead of boosting a few times. The somersault energy attack move also feels like a pointless addition, even if it’s required for some enemies it just doesn’t add to the game, it’s just an additional thing to remember. I do enjoy games with lots of controls to remember (such as Banjo-Kazooie), but they need to be intuitive.

Another change is the homing attack, with a change that sounds nice on paper: you can now target three enemies at once and bounce between them. Unfortunately, you can end up targeting an enemy you don’t want – such as one you passed – and Sonic will fly backwards to hit it. Tapping jump between each enemy worked fine as it was.

The levels in Sonic Lost World 3DS are a mixed bag. A lot aren’t memorable, partly because they all look like floating islands, all in the style of Green Hill Zone. The most memorable levels either have interesting mechanics or are just a nightmare to play. These levels also seem to go on forever. There’s one level set inside a giant juicer and you have to wheel apples into it, which I really enjoyed, but then there’s one where you have to push snowballs which is possibly one of the worst Sonic level’s I’ve played. Some annoying jumps, ice physics and a giant snowman head which chases you the entire level, destroying the snowballs you push around if it touches them.

Wisps return from Sonic Colours (although the story doesn’t acknowledge them at all) and while I loved them in that game, they just don’t work in Lost World 3DS and feel more like a chore to use, the asteroid is slow, floaty and often has bad camera angles while the Quake would work, but uses motion controls that can’t be turned off.

Motion controls also hamper the special stages and a boss fight, as they use 1:1 motion controls, so you have to turn around fully to play them. If you happen to be playing on public transport, you’ll just have to stop playing. The controls actually work well, but they needed to be optional for a handheld system.

Sonic Lost World 3DS isn’t an awful game, it’s just somewhat forgettable. It tries to do some new things and I think with some refinements it could have done well.

[creativeashproductions]

We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank​’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge. 

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date. 

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection. 

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door. 

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket. 

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room. 

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work. 

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend. 

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses. 

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger. 

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

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[rhenuvee]

The Cute Guy (Fred Weasley x reader)

Request: Could you do a cute after the war Fred Weasley imagine where the reader is applying to work at the Weasleys’ wizard wheezes. And slowly Fred falls in love with her.

*I realized I’m an idiot for not doing this sooner so tell me if you’d like to be tagged in my future fics. I write for 3 fandoms so please specify which one!*

Announcement: In case you did not see what I put in the request guidelines, school is starting September 14th for me. You can still send in requests, but I will be a lot slower with requests. 

—————————————

Fred remembered the day he hired you to work for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. It was a couple of weeks after he and George decided to reopen the shop. He saw how invested you seemed in the products and how your happy-go-lucky personality would bring a pleasant type of energy to customers. That would’ve been his genuine answer.

But now with his head in a daydream as you talked with a customer, he wasn’t sure that was the only thing that made him hire you. He saw how your bright smile lit up the room and how contagious your laugh was. He saw how pretty you looked even in just a uniform you wore to work everyday.

The shop was doing pretty well today, no complaints or accidents. However Fred could feel something not right at the corner of his eye. 

He turned to see his twin in a very exaggerated manner, resting his chin in his hands propped up on his elbows. Fred deadpanned knowing George was trying to copy him, obviously in a very dramatic way.

“Stop doing that you prat, you’re scaring the people.” said Fred pushing George. He scoffed in return of his twin’s pathetic insult.

“Me? Look at yourself.” said George pointing at Fred. The older twin grumbled, he was seriously conflicted. Each day he hid it, it seemed like his feelings for you grew more. 

“Why don’t you just ask them out?” asked George coolly as if it was the easiest thing in the whole world. Fred rubbed his temple in frustration.

“Yeah, and why don’t I step on a nail while I’m at it?”

“Good idea, tell me when you do so I can take a photograph.” Fred was about to get mad at his twin’s ignorance, but laughed dryly at his response with him instead.

“Look mate, if you don’t make your move, someone else will. You’re going to be all miserable and gloomy that your bird was taken. And I won’t be in the mood to deal with you.” explained George. Fred was annoyed at his brother for making fun of him, but also because he was right. Merlin, what was he going to do.

Meanwhile, you were at the front of the shop fixing up the love potions display and Ginny had just walked in. You became friends with her after being introduced when you were hired.

“Hey (y/n)!” her cheerful voice rang in the store. 

“Oh hi Ginny.” you said smiling and looking up from the stand.

“Want to grab lunch with me at that restaurant nearby?” she said grabbing your hand already leading you out of the shop. You partially stayed glued in place.

“Um, maybe I should ask Fred and George before going...” you said in their direction. It was kind of weird saying their names from your mouth. For the first week you called them Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, but then you realized how old that must’ve made them feel after they told you about it. They were your bosses, you thought you had to address them formally!

“Who cares about them- she can go right?” asked Ginny quickly turning to her older twin brothers. Both turned their heads in sync and suddenly you felt warm knowing their gaze was on you.

“Of course love, we told you last time already.” said Fred almost out of impulse. You were busy blushing at the term of endearment to notice Ginny and George smirking and looking at Fred. 

“Okay, let’s go then.” said Ginny smiling. You waved to the twins before heading out to lunch with Ginny. George did nothing but grin and click his tongue. Fred’s expression was nothing but confusion, however George knew what he was implying about the nickname he called you. 

—————————————

“So tell me, what’s new in your life?” asked Ginny then taking a bite out of her sandwich. 

“I’m a very boring person Ginny, you know that.” you said sighing and sipping your drink. It seemed like a spark was lit in Ginny as you could feel like she jumped in her seat a little. 

“What about that cute guy you always talk about?” she teased. You facepalmed. Ever since that one time you went out with her and drank a little too much firewhiskey, you blurted out a bunch of randomness, and the cute guy was one of them. You have now learned to try and handle your liquor better.

“Oh god... you’re not still on about that are you?” you asked half serious and half pretending to be nonchalant so she could move on. 

“I am.” she replied bluntly. You rolled your eyes.

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Unfortunately, the cute guy was none other than one of your bosses- Fred Weasley. Thank Merlin you didn’t say his name directly that night. But even so, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

You applied to work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes because you genuinely loved their shop and admired how they brought smiles to people’s faces, even in dark times. And you knew the owners were the Weasley twins- but you did not know that getting a closer look at Fred would cause your knees to become jelly, or your eyes to look anywhere but his chocolate brown ones. And thus, it lead to him secretly being called ‘the cute guy’ by none other than your drunk self.

You snuck a look back at the shop which you could see from the restaurant window and sighed. Would a relationship with your boss be weird? Of course it would! I mean, you were the same age, yes- but why would he go for an employee? With looks as good as his and his charming personality he probably had lots of girls lining up for him.

“Oh my god...” said Ginny, which snapped you back from staring too long at the shop. 

“Do you like my brother?” she asked almost frantically. Uh oh, she was onto you. You had to think of a a witty response to divert her from this conversation.

“You have... a lot of brothers Ginny.” you said trying to sound as normal as possible. 

“I’m talking about Fred!” she said. She was close to stuttering out the phrase since she was so excited. You flushed red knowing she was right.

“Se he’s the cute guy! Oh this is great!” she clapped cheerfully.

“Don’t put words into my mouth.” you said turning your head away from her. In this moment you felt regret for the firewhiskey in the first place.

“Oh don’t be like that (y/n), besides he fancies you.” she said with a sly smirk. 

“My own boss? Fancies me? You really learned from their pranking don’t you?” you asked putting emphasis. Fred fancying you was something you only thought about. She rolled her eyes again.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the way he looks at you.” she said. You did not. Thinking that Fred looked at you like you were special would’ve been a dream come true. You kept your mouth shut this time, you wanted to hear more.

“Ever since he’s hired you, he’s been giving you goo goo eyes, like in that one muggle movie where those ladies fangirl over that arrogant villain guy.” she explains. You were confused, and you needed to get out of this talk.

“Goo goo- fangirl- arrogant vill- ah just, you know what? You’re wrong, and you know it.” you said shaking your head. Ginny just shrugged.

“Well next time go see for yourself.” she said.

—————————————

You didn’t bother to follow Ginny’s instruction, however you couldn’t help to make ‘goo goo’ eyes yourself. He looked really good in a suit- he wore a different one everyday, and he looked good regardless of how flashy the colour of it was. 

Time flew by and you were exhausted, just one more hour and the shop will close and you can go home to your nice and comfy bed. Just a moment after a customer left, Fred came out of his office and went to the entrance door and locked it. You were puzzled, we were closing early?

“(Y/n).” he said looking at you and walking to where you were. You didn’t know what to think he was going to say, were you in trouble? You weren’t sure. George wasn’t with him.

“We’re gonna close early just tonight.” he said. God, seeing him really up close was making it hard for you to not check him out. His hair, messy as always, but somehow managed to look good. His eyes were dark and warm, a contrast to his freckles which highlighted his face. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why?” you said softly. 

“Well you see, George and I, we...” he paused mid sentence. Little did you know they had a plan. George told Fred for both of them to have dinner with you so that he could get some type of courage to sort of deal with his feelings. George did not mind being a third wheel, not that he think you’d notice anyway. And you were a good employee so the reason was not completely a lie.

“We wanted- we thought...” he managed to get out. This was not like him at all. It was like he was rushing to say something but couldn’t. 

“Merlin- (y/n) would you like to have dinner with me?” he said. Fred decided to just get it out. You were shocked, your eyes widened, and a slight pink tinted your cheeks. 

“You know what, just forget-”

“I’d love to.” you said fighting a grin appearing on your face. Fred on the other hand did not hold back and had a huge smile. 

“Then could I...” he trailed off. You were backed up against a shelf as his hand went to your waist. He was hesitant because at this point you both knew what was about to happen. The look in your eyes and the little nod you gave was enough for him to crash his lips onto you.

It took a little while for your mind to process what was happening- you and Fred were kissing. You let your eyes flutter shut and you kiss him back, Your hands move up to his shoulders. Even with his suit you could feel his toned muscles underneath. 

“Evening.” said a smooth voice from behind. You both pulled away with faces flushed and breathing fast and looked behind Fred. You saw George leaning on the table on his elbows... except he was being very dramatic about it purposely sticking his hips way out to the side.

You both were speechless, I mean what were you supposed to say when your boss’s twin just caught you kissing Fred? After a minute of silence-

“Well, guess I’m not invited to dinner anymore.” said George sighing. 

“No wait George, you can come too.” you replied quickly. George whistled and shook his head.

“Always too kind for your own good (y/n), no wonder my less attractive twin fancies you.” teases George. You and Fred both blush in embarrassment. 

“You guys go ahead, I’m not willing to be a third wheel, I think I’ll throw up before we even start eating.” 

“But-”

“I’ll throw up!” George repeated, and then saluted and headed back into his office. Your eyesight lingered in George’s direction for a bit before turning back to Fred, your hands still on his shoulders.

“You fancy me...?” you said asking for confirmation. 

“Yeah I do, quite hard not to if you ask me, walking around the shop looking like you do.” he said smirking. Oh, he was complimenting you. You covered your wide smile with your hand.

“And you..?” he asked back.

“Oh- yeah I do, I think I have since that day I had too much firewhiskey and called you the cute guy-” you instantly shut your mouth now knowing what spilled out. The look in Fred’s eyes were getting more mischievous. The was no way he wasn’t about to get cocky at what you just said,

“The cute guy?” he teased rubbing his large hand up and down your sides and bring you slightly closer. You covered your face in embarrassment.

“I think the word you’re looking for is handsome, love.” he said with a grin. Oh god, he would never let you hear the end of this.

“Oh stop embarrassing me will you?” you said shooing him away. 

“To be fair, I think you’re pretty cute yourself...” he said tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. It was almost like he was about to lean in again.

“-but you’re going to have to tell me more about that cute guy, darling.” he said leading you out to door to dinner. You shook your head at him, he was a troublemaker for sure. What did you get yourself into?

[all-cursed]

Meet my first OC to have a specific fandom they’re attached to!

So I’ve never created an OC specifically for the universe of a show before, they’ve always been fandomless, but I was excited to create one for Wynonna Earp. I’m going to give him a proper page on the muse list as well as give everyone more detailed biographies eventually, but for now, this should work.

DISCLAIMER: to anyone who may have concerns, please know that I myself am Native American (Blackfoot and Cherokee), and did a lot of research while creating this character to make sure I do them justice and create an actual Native character that isn’t just a stereotype. Some parts that might seem stereotypical - such as the name this character chooses to go by - just comes with the modern era the universe is set in and the character’s own reasons. Several of the struggles he faces as well are specifically chosen because I hope to raise awareness in some small ways to the struggles that IPOC face even today. None of it is meant to be fetishising or stereotypical - some of it just exists in that space as an unfortunate reality.

Alright! Here we go.

                                                       [    i.    STATS   ]

NAME.  meecha wo’i  " crow "  redwolf .   

AGE.  23 as of 1x01 .

DOB.  nov 29th ,  1993 .

GENDER. gender-indifferent cis male  :   prefers he/him or they/them pronouns .

PREF. pansexual but has a preference for men and nonbinary individuals 

SPECIES.  human ,  witch  ,   skinwalker .

RESIDENCE.  the  ghost  river  triangle  .

OCCUPATION. former cashier ; former lead guitar in an up and coming rock band ; current bartender . 

ETHNICITY. in simple terms: native american. specifically: hopi and creek. some scottish but not by much. 

 [    ii.    INTROSPECTION    ]

POSITIVE TRAITS.   curious ,   adaptable ,  perceptive ,   creative ,   passionate ,   loyal ,   perseverant , open-minded , compassionate .

NEUTRAL TRAITS.  persuasive ,   withdrawn (at first; nervous about other’s intentions) ,   secretive , free-wheeling .

NEGATIVE TRAITS.  temperamental ,   unrestrained ,  spiteful ,   reckless ,   capricious ,   hedonistic .

DISLIKES.  sounds of traffic or loud machinery in general &  the sound of metal on metal &  the smell of cheap perfume/cologne &  hot weather &  dust  &  houseflies &  being told (instead of asked) what to do &  rap music &  wool scarves &  fluorescent lights &  lack of hygiene &  orange flavoured candies/sodas/anything that’s not an actual orange &  deep dark waters he can’t see the contents of &  mistreatment of animals &  having assumptions made about him  &  mathematics &  onions &  football  .

LIKES.  the scent and sound of rain &  physical touch &  candles , lighters , and controlled flames in general &  the smell of cedar , pine , and the forest &  music and playing musical instruments &  italian food &  raving about attractive people with others; intoxication is a bonus &  leather; wearing it and the smell of it &  glasses clinking together &  late night talks &  stargazing &  drawing / sketching &  records and record players &  animals &  'stealing’ and wearing the clothes of people he’s close with &  running &  card games &  dancing and singing & creating something out of nothing &  getting the last word .

HOBBIES. drawing &  singing and playing instruments &  exploring / learning as many places as they can like the back of their hand & people watching  &  drinking and bar hopping &  seeking pleasure and adventure wherever he can find it & collecting random things he enjoys / likes .

WEAKNESSES. he’s standoffish until he knows he can trust a person and can come off rude or aloof  & the inability to let go of most grudges &  his tendency to follow his desires and his heart before logic or his mind  &  impulsivity when emotional .

STRENGTHS. independence and ability to function and thrive alone (even if he would prefer to have company it is not mandatory) &  ability to be resourceful and adapt to new situations quickly &  handles time-sensitive situations well due to his tendency to act quick and think later &  stubbornness to stick to a task and see it through &  quick thinking &  agility and speed of inhuman proportions (thanks to his less than human side) .

HABITS. clicking his teeth together repeatedly when annoyed &  flexing  fingers & playing with his hair in absentminded / lazy moments &  silently staring at someone when he’s done with a conversation until they catch the hint and stop talking  &  if there’s music playing within earshot he always ends up swaying to the beat  &  will often make less than human sounds (growls, etc.) when angry if he doesn’t catch himself .

EDUCATION. average  student  throughout  elementary ,  middle &  high  school .  graduated with an equally average gpa of 3.0 , &  decided against college, choosing to seek education in less typical places .  fed up with his family and much of the treatment of his peers, he began to learn magic from a witch he met on one of his regular trips to wander the ghost river triangle and explore & learnt magic and about the more mystical parts of purgatory - ultimately becoming a skinwalker via the witch’s guidance and training .

[  iii. APPEARANCE  ]

FACECLAIM.  booboo stewart . 

HEIGHT.  5 ' 8 " ,  though when able to he wears combat boots that add a few inches to his height . 

EYES.  a very keen and observant hazel when he’s in human form .   when shifting , eye colour can range from yellow to red to green to blue depending on many factors - location , how far he shifts , etc .  always alert and bright unless intoxicated or in very rough shape emotion-wise . often wishes they were green or grey and has considered wearing contacts to change his eyes (human-wise) to those colours.

EYEBROWS.   defined  arch  but not so much so that it’s dramatic .  not too thin and not too bushy , and naturally neat - he rarely has to tend to them and usually only does so to shave a tiny slit or two through them as a stylistic choice .

HAIR.  long and dark ;  sleek with an ever so slight wave to it .  typically worn either down or in a loose ponytail , occasionally sections are braided .  falls just a few inches above his ribcage .  every so often he’ll dye streaks into his hair but has never dyed his whole head .

SCARS.  many . he has a variety of smaller scars from a rowdy childhood; a few faint ones on his hands and arms from scratches borne of cats and dogs . the typical scars that come from falling off bicycles or off swings ; scraped knees and cuts on chins . his forearms especially are covered in scars he prefers not to speak of .  there’s a scar on his forehead from a fight with his cousin as well as a few long scars on his back .

DRESSING STYLE.  it varies depending upon mood and whatever job he has at the time . especially fond of punk / alternative styles , likes leather , and enjoys the comfort of loose and flowing garments. whatever style he happens to choose at any given time , he wears well and somehow always manages to draw attention - whether from the jewelry he accessorises with (varieties of bracelets and cuffs , rings , pendants with gems , etc.)

LIPS.  naturally  full ,  scar at the right corner of his lip , occasionally  sore or split when he goes through anxious phases and tends to chew at his lips .

SKIN.   smooth , tanned . he doesn’t have much body hair , a fact that doesn’t tend to bother him much. he rarely engages in a skincare routine and much like his eyebrows generally stays neat and well-kempt without much effort . does not wear much makeup but enjoys eyeliner from time to time . if not for his skin tone, the dark circles beneath his eyes would be much more visible .

CHEEKS.  defined cheekbones ,   not easily flushed .  sports the occasional scars due to nervous picking when he was younger.

[  iv. ABILITIES  ]

LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english  [ fluent ] ,  hopi  [ conversational &  spellwork language ] , spanish  [ conversational ] .

THREAT LEVEL.  mediocre  to  high .

WEAPONS.  fairly efficient in his understanding of magic and can easily hold his own with either combative or defensive magic ,  but prefers when possible to rely on his own physical skills ; is proficient in hand to hand combat thanks to the speed , agility , and strength bequeathed upon him by his skinwalker nature . very skilled in knifeplay , whether throwing or up close . has little to no practise with firearms as of 1x01 . 

MAGIC. magic learnt by his mentor was primarily elemental based and neutral in that it could easily be manipulated for defensive or offensive ; he was never extremely proficient and left before he could complete his training so he is still learning his limits and the heights he can reach , and wants to branch out . as for the magical abilities granted by his status as skinwalker - he is able to shapeshift , which saps him of certain levels of energy that depend upon what creature he takes the shape of . he is also granted higher than average speed, agility, and strength because of this which he keeps with him even when not shifting.

 [  v. DETAILS  ]

➣➣ he was born in georgia originally to a loving but struggling mother and father - his mother was hopi and his father was creek, and while both parents had originally lived on their own respective reservations, they had met one another by chance during a trip and fallen in love, eventually deciding to seek out their own home outside of the reservations. his parents loved him but struggled financially; eventually his mother’s sister offered to take him in. as that was the better option rather than the three of them becoming homeless, crow’s parents sent him to live with his aunt in arizona on the rez. while they stayed in touch, his parents needed to stay in georgia, and as such he only would see them on the occasional holiday.

➣➣ while his aunt meant well, his cousins were another story. living with his aunt and uncle would have been fine had it not been for their two children; a son and daughter who constantly bullied him behind their backs for not being pure hopi as they were, often harassing him about being a ‘halfbreed’. a quiet boy at heart to boot, he faced bullying in school as well all the way through high school. his cousins, in tenth grade, snooped in his room and found his journal - which they used to out him as pansexual to the school.

➣➣ the moment he graduated, he spent as much time off the rez as possible, avoiding his cousins. on one of his frequent trips to simply explore nearby cities and towns, he found himself in purgatory. one drunken night led to following a mysterious woman into the woods. as it turned out, she was a witch. intrigued and excited at the idea of learning magic and having a way to defend himself, he quickly took her up on her offer to teach him. after a few months, she let him in on her secret - she was a skinwalker.

➣➣ she talked up how powerful she was because of it, and how no one would ever hurt her again. the more he heard about it, the more he wanted it. still unhealed from the way he was treated growing up and too caught up in the concept of never having to be beneath someone ever again, he agreed to let her hold the ceremony that would make him one as well without thinking of the consequences. when she told him that the final task he needed was to kill a family member... he almost faltered but agreed and went back to the rez. 

➣➣ he almost didn’t do it. it was night when he returned, and he could see his male cousin drinking on the porch. the concept of killing someone - even someone like his cousin who had treated him so poorly - was daunting. he might have changed his mind had his cousin not seen him arriving and was immediately being malicious; using homophobic slurs and accusing crow of having run off with a lover, talking about how disgraceful it was. and it all was a blur from there.

➣➣ bringing back a lock of his cousin’s hair to the witch, she finished the rituals and he became the creature she had promised - powerful but at what cost? still wrought with guilt despite having made the ultimate choice, crow left the forests on the outskirts of purgatory where he had been training and into the ghost river triangle itself, unable to go home after what he did and unable to stomach facing the witch. living out of his truck, he went from odd job to odd job, eventually landing a stable job as a cashier at a grocery store. around this time he chose to begin going by the name crow - both to distance himself from his past, and because if someone were to want to control or destroy him now as a skinwalker, they could do so if they knew his true, personal name. as such, a nickname seemed the safest bet. 

➣➣ fastforward to present day (1x01). after a few years of cashiering and attempting to rent rooms and apartments without success, as well as a stint playing guitar for an up and coming rock band, crow landed a job as a bartender at one of the local bars and instead of attempting to rent rooms or apartments, ended up moving into the trailer park. it was sketchy to say the least, but he couldn’t afford anything fancy and clearly didn’t handle having roommates well. a trailer seemed like the next best thing, outside of living in the woods or in his truck. his tendency to mind his own business and expect that of others meant that he mingled with normal purgatory residents and the revenants equally, pursuing his hedonistic nature as he pleased. which was all well and good, until things began to get... a lot more chaotic due to a curse and an heir he had originally had no knowledge of. 

               [ MORE TO COME THROUGHOUT                                               CHARACTERIZATION DEVELOPMENT ]

[erable-writes]

Prucan Week Day #6: Noble Souls

Day 6: Partnership, Duality, Union

Matthew didn't know why he was here. 

Really, he didn't belong. The gathering was for nobles, meant for the highest class and the most pure of blood. That was not Matthew. Sure, Matthew lived in a castle, but that was as good as it got for him. unfortunately, Alfred had decided that instead of leaving Matthew at home, he needed someone to accompany him to the “Grand Seasonal Banquet” or some equally pretentious name. Matthew had not wanted to, partly because he was painfully shy, mostly because of the aforementioned not royalty thing, but Alfred was the one housing him, and therefore the one in charge of him, so he couldn't really say no.

Matthew sometimes wondered how different his life would be if he was truly royalty. Sure, it would probably be easier to be a royal. He wouldn't be the first in line, so his only job would be to look presentable, maybe talk to visiting aristocrats every once in a while. That part seemed appealing. However, Matthew was also acutely aware of the fact that he would not be a highly respected noble. The world maintained a certain order, and Matthew happened to be born into a low standing. He wasn't upset by it, not at all. He lived with his papa Francis in a small community, where he knew everyone by heart and did not fear being criticized or gossiped about. He was never on display, never the central focus of anything. That held its own comfort.

In short, Matthew was fairly certain that if he were truly a nobleman, he would crumble under the pressure.

But the world had not been kind to him or his people, and so Francis had sent him away to the Honeyfield Kingdom. At that point, it had been pure luck that he had stumbled upon Crown Prince Alfred, who had exclaimed delightedly (read: loudly) that they had the same face and promptly insisted that he come to the castle for further investigation. It had then been proven that they were not blood siblings (shocking, Matthew had thought dryly, though Alfred had looked genuinely surprised), but that didn't deter Alfred. Instead of sending Matthew on his way, like any sane person, he had instead declared Matthew ‘Charge of the Castle of Honeyfeld’, which was fancy speak for ‘Adopted Brother’. This was all fine, in theory, but now it had led to this night, which meant Matthew really wished he had never met the hyper blond, no matter how much his life had improved.

Matthew didn't really like people.

Which was perfectly fine, he thought, because people didn't like him much either. Ever since he had moved to Honeyfeld, he was often subject to double-takes, side-glares, open gawking, and other forms of not-so-subtle scrutiny. Although, he couldn’t exactly blame the citizens either. 

He was a moth, in firmly bee territory. In all honesty, he’d probably gawk at himself too.

Yes, Matthew was a moth, not a butterfly, despite how colourful his wings were. It was an unfortunate truth that moths were low class citizens, Often seen as dirty and ugly, not good for anything but work or wilderness. Matthew thought this was awfully generalized, as outsiders to his hometown had often commented on how lovely the villagers wing colours were, only to flush and stammer when told they were in a moth township. Matthew was often saddened to see his people suffer when they had truly done nothing to deserve it. However, despite his protests and advice to Alfred, there was never anything that could be done. 

If Alfred was ignoring that Matthew was a moth, or if he didn’t care, Matthew was uncertain.

And yet, despite knowing that Matthew was not fit to be in a gala, full of lords and ladies that would look down on him and sniff haughtily and call him ‘Alfred little pet’, Alfred still brought him along.

“It will be fun!” He announced.

For one of us.

“I need to bring along my loyal advisor! Everyone would be delighted to meet you!”

They would be delighted to mock me.

“C’mon, I need my brother by my side!”

Well, Matthew couldn't really argue with that. So now he was here. At the biggest, most lavish, most expensive party in all the kingdoms. Joy.

Matthew shuffles his wings nervously (causing a few people to skitter back a few inches), trying to rearrange them to press closer to his back as if they would disappear. He quickly runs a hand through his hair, making sure his antennae are adequately covered, and sighs.

“Mattie! What’re you doing over there! C’mere!”

Mustering the best smile he can, Matthew rejoins his brother.

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

In all fairness, the party isn’t bad. The music is nice, the food is excellent, and no one has any desire to talk to Matthew, which is great for him. Nothing truly terrible has actually happened to him, and it likely won’t, considering he has the crown prince backing him. Still, Matthew cannot simply enjoy the party. Every person that passes leaves him on edge. Anyone that walks up to him to speak to his brother makes him nervous. He would really rather be at home, with a good book and a warm drink. At least in Honeyfeld Castle, he was well enough known that the attendants knew not to stare. Here he was exposed, left completely open to any snide look or shocked expression. He felt a bit like a spotlight had been placed above him. Even when he was alone, off to the side, the prickling feeling of eyes on him never left. He didn’t like it. 

A hand suddenly connects with his shoulder, and Matthew jumps, letting out a small gasp as his wings instinctively flare out. He whirls his head to face the attacker, only to come face to face with Alfred. Matthew relaxs, his wings resuming their neutral position as he smiles to his brother. Alfred offers him a comforting smile in return, pity shining through his eyes.

“Hey, Mattie. There's nothing to be scared of, alright? No one's going to hurt you. I’ll make sure of it.” If only that's what Matthew was worried about. Then he could have taken comfort in those words. As it stood, Matthew returned the gesture with a meek nod and a small ‘thank you’ as he continued to subconsciously scan the room. Alfred sighs, drawing Matthew close into a protective hug.

“Relax. Enjoy the party for a little bit. and watched out for the prince of eye-- ees-- ah... The ones with the funny accent. He’s been eyeing you up all night.” Eisenrinde, Matthew tries to correct, but Alfred chooses to take his leave at that moment. “Ridiculous,” Is Matthews next thought, “He doesn't even know which kingdom his own allies are from.”

...

Wait.

The Prince of Eisenrinde was watching him?!

Matthew whirls, frantically trying to confirm this fact. How could he have missed that? There was no way. He couldn't possibly have overlooked something as massive as the Prince of the most militaristic kingdom eyeing him up. And if it was true, Matthew might as well throw in the towel. The only feasible reason someone would be watching him would be because they were disgusted by him, and Matthew wasn't exactly fit to fight. He would be so absolutely and entirely dead. Truly, this had just become the worse night of his life.

Suddenly, Matthew saw him.

The Prince of Eisenrinde (His name was Gilbert, Matthew remembered) was not a very imposing man, at least physically. Matthew was actually fairly certain he was taller than Gilbert. Unfortunately, that was Matthew's only real advantage. Gilbert was much stronger than his height showed, with fortified chitin plating and an absolutely terrifying spiked ridge that ran from the back of his neck to the middle of his back. As if he wasn't already the most intimidating man on the face of the Earth, Gilbert also sported eyes the colour of blood, which was fine when he was a country away but not fine when he was in the same room as MAtthew and also staring him down.

Did Matthew mention that Gilbert was staring at him like he committed a felony? Because that was also happening.

Timidly, Matthew met the gaze of the Life-Ender (He was scared, he’ll come up with a better nickname later.)

There was a sudden warmth to his cheeks, and the room seemed to go silent. The only thing Matthew heard was his heart beating, every instinct in his body telling him that whatever problems he had were irrelevant as long as he was looking at Gilbert.

Oh no.

Gilbert also seemed to be aware of the feeling, as his eyes widened ever so slightly.

Oh shit.

Gilbert smirks at him, raising one hand slightly and gesturing for Matthew to come to him.

Prince Gilbert of Eisenrinde was his soulmate.

Matthew gulped nervously.

He was so fucked.

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

What's this? Two posts in one day (at least in my timezone)? I’m surprised too. This is Royalty/Soulmate AU, With Canada as a peasant and Prussia as a royal. This little bug bit has been floating around in my head for a while, so it's nice to actually write it out. Maybe I’ll do more for this world?

(If anyone is curious, Canada is a Harlequin Moth, Prussia is a Wheel Bug, and Alfred is a Bumble Bee.)

[Edited, so any more errors are just me being stupid.]

[i-growl-growl-growl]

Hi ^^ can I get a yandere life ship pls? I might seem quite cold on the outside and I don't really like people pushing me around and telling me what to do but deep down I'm actually a sub, hidden under layers of brattiness. I hate it when people treat me like I'm dumb. I love cuddles and play-fighting (does that makes sense?) other than that I have a weird taste in things: thrillers and winx club, metal and kpop, black leather jackets and cute skirts. I also like to dye my hair in crazy colours

Yandere 1: (Main yandere)- Bobby

The first thing Bobby realized about you was your cold persona and brattiness as well as your distaste for being pushed around and treated like a low-life. He figured that if he could get his hands on you, he would have no problem setting that submissive side to you straight, dishiveling your cold and bratty persona into a pile of rubbish quickly. How would he do that? By treating you the exact way that you hate being treated. Bobby would boss you around and mess with your mind until you acted like a submissive slave to him. He'd make sure that you kept your contrasting style, "bassass but cute", though.

your friend that is victimized by yandere one: Jae (Day6)

Jae was drawn to your playful side once he met you through a mutual friend of yours. Your other friend had tagged him along in many of your escapades so he got to see past your brattiness and cold persona quickly.once he was invited to have a sleep over with you and your friend, which turned out to be the night that he found out that you had accepted him into your friend circle rather than remaining as a third wheel to you and your friends. After being friends with him for years, it came as no surprise that you two were very close and, once Bobby weaseled his way into your life, Jae wanted to make sure that he wouldn't hurt you so Jae did his best to be with you as often as possible. Bobby wouldn't stand for Jae's antics, he'd get Jae alone and threaten to destroy him and his circle of friends if he continued to get in the way of your guy's relationship. If Jae chose to continue sticking to your side then Bobby would torture him, as promised, letting him go just once, giving him one chance to back off, or he'd do the same thing again but ensure that Jae would die a horrible and slow death the next time.

where they’d keep you: abandoned warehouse near the outskirts of the city

Once Bobby has reached the point that he doesn't trust anyone being around you, not even Jae or Zelo, he'll know exactly where to take you to keep you to himself. There's a plethora of abandoned buildings near the outskirts of the city that everyone avoids going near, even the adventurous "abandoned building" thrill seekers. The warehouse is a bit dusty but it'll do. There's plenty of room for you to roam around while locked up in the warehouse, so you won't feel completely caged in like an animal, and there's no way for you to escape through any windows or through the doors that he keeps locked so it's the perfect spot to keep you.

your chances of survival/escape: survival: 9/10, escape: 0/10

Bobby doesn't want to kill you so you have a great chance of survival, he doesn't even want to harm you to the point that you'd be crippled so all the more luck for you. The worst Bobby will do is grave his name into your skin on all parts possible over and over again, he may even reopen the scars the grave them in deeper into your skin if he feels like you deserve it. Another reason for your great chance of survival is your submissiveness and the fact that he knows he may only need to shackle you to the bed if you misbehave to keep you with him but, because yours such a good darling, he won't have to worry about that much.

Yandere 2: (yandere that wants to steal you from yandere 1)- Zelo

You could literally say that you were screwed from the beginning because Zelo was the friend who introduced you to Jae AND Bobby. Unfortunately for Zelo, his softness had kept him from realizing his true, "unsettling", feelings for you until it was too late and you had been set up with Bobby. Zelo would still remain a part of your life, regardless of Bobby's growing distaste for him, and he'd promise himself (and you) that if Bobby ever let his guard down he'd come to your rescue (he'd probably drag Jae into the plan as well which would end badly if Bobby were to catch on to their plan to steal you away from him.)

why yandere 1 & 2 fell for you: The contrast between your taste in things would draw Zelo and Bobby to you like cheese on Nachos since they're both the same way as you personality and interest wise. Each of these boys are personified as strong individuals with a deepset style of harshness (metal & rap, leather jackets, harsh rapping styles (whether it be the speed of their raps or their strong/harsh voices), etc but, once you get to know them they're both giant softies who enjoy childish things like Hello Kittie or keeping tiny frogs as pets, etc.

[rewrite-canon]

Detroit: Become High School

Chapter 1: "Start of Sophomore" (Connor's POV)

On normal days, Connor would be fine waking up. But today was the first day of his sophomore year at Cyder Line Academy, and he wasn't particularly looking forward to it at all. He knew there would be more stacks if homework, horrible teachers (like Mr Perkins, who hated his guts), the stressful social school hierarchy and Gavin Reeds, a man who found solace in picking on him. But if Connor knew anything, it would be to get up quickly before his dad and brother start yelling at him.

Read more chapters: here

~~~

“Connor! The fuck are you doing? Get up!”

Connor stirred drowsily, trying to mentally block out his dad’s insistent yelling.

“Connor, I swear to god, I will bust down your door in a few moments if you don't wake up!” He heard his father grumble outside.

Preferring to not have an enraged, tired father invade his room, he quickly responded with an “I'm up! I'm up!”

He blinked and stirred, his eyes slowly adjusting to the morning light slipping through the blinds, and the warm air of the stuffy, unventilated bedroom. As Connor groaned and rolled himself out of bed, he glanced resentfully at his calendar and sighed. September 19th, 2019. The day he will be starting his sophomore year. And he already knew it was going to be difficult, if freshman year told him anything. There were to be more suffocating homework and exams, the pressure of colleges, dealing with horrid teachers and, of course, Gavin Reeds, who was a problem all on his own.

He then walked over to the large tank of brightly coloured fish, and quickly fed them. He smiled, because the fishes did looked quite content with their breakfast, which made Connor feel nice himself. Connor made a beeline to his birch closet, and tried not to feel the stress of picking out the most appropriate attire for the first day. But alas, it was quite inevitable.

Upon picking and choosing his shirt, his small moments of privacy was soon cut short as his older brother stepped in without bothering to knock.

“Normally, I wouldn't care if you were late, but dad would crack the shits if I don't personally drive your ass to school,” he stated, coldly. “And you're taking forever.”

But his chilling expression soon changed into a patronising sneer as he saw his brother’s distress.

“Having trouble choosing what to wear?” He asked, his eyebrows raised. “What? Are you trying to impress someone?”

“Go away so I can change, Ronan.”

“Whoa, someone's grumpy today. Now I've got two grumpy family members to deal with.”

Connor took one look at what Ronan was wearing and pouted. Ronan always got it right. He was wearing a white shirt with the Detroit Tigers logo on it. On top of it, he was wearing a light denim jacket, that was cuffed at the sleeves, dark jeans and white Vans. His sunglasses were also hanging loosely off his neckline. All in all, it wasn't much, and he looked quite normal, but Connor thought it was fashion genius. It wasn't too flashy, but it wasn't laid back. It made Ronan genuinely look nice, and more older and mature, though he was anything but.

“How do you do that?” Connor blurted.

“What?”

“You know, make yourself look so cool without even trying?”

Ronan just laughed fondly albeit condescendingly in response, his blue eyes flashing with amusement.

“I'm serious! You're the one starting your senior year, you should be close to tears! It's your last first day of high school ever!”

Ronan rolled his eyes and ruffled Connor’s hair.

“Well, if you want to be like me, you've got to become more faster, stronger, resilient and be equip with all of my brilliant charms,” he said, turning to walk out of Connor’s room, and grinning like his older brotherly ‘advice’ was very helpful.

“I never said I wanted to be like you, I just wanted to know what to wear!” Connor called, but Ronan was already out of the door.

He sighed and faced his closet forlornly. With a few more minutes of stressing and inner debates, Connor decided to go with grey jeans, a Detroit hoodie and his wristwatch that his dad got him for his birthday last year. And whilst looking at his wristwatch, he realised that he really needed to hurry up if he wanted to avoid both his dad and Ronan yelling more at him.

So he quickly rushed over to the bathroom, speed-brushed his teeth, and thanked god he packed his school bag the night before. Upon arriving to the kitchen, Ronan was ready to leave and was now yelling at him to hurry, and Hank looked conflicted as to which one of his sons he should murder first. Connor then quickly grabbed a stale muesli bar from the pantry and gave Sumo a nice pat, before embracing his dad.

“You take care, Connor,” Hank said gruffly, before letting go. “Now you boys go to school and Ronan-” he pointed a finger at Ronan who smiled innocently on instinct, “no causing trouble on your first day. And Connor-” his finger shifted to his youngest son, “try to not look so goofy and clueless. It's weird.”

Ronan was unsuccessfully trying to suppress his snickers as Connor nodded obediently. Hank gestured towards the front door.

“Now go. I still need to make my coffee and take a shower, because god knows I smell like Satan’s musty anus,” he sniffed.

By the time they made it to Cyder Line Academy, Ronan had already informed Connor about how ridiculous he looked.

“You do realise the temperature today is going to be about 84°, right?” He asked, staring at his hoodie. “And your pants and shoes really don't go together.”

Connor huffed and wished for the thousandth time that Ronan would one day miraculously cease to speak, and that his school will enable uniforms.

They arrived about a good twenty minutes before the start of the first bell thanks to Ronan’s insane driving. Connor watched blankly as friends were tearfully reuniting with others and burst into conversations about what their summer had been like. Connor saw new couples that had no doubt sparked the wheel of gossip in the school, and he spotted old ones, who were wrapped up in each other’s arms. He spotted some new faces of the school, but mostly old ones, though the new freshman sure did look nervous. And rightfully so, Connor thought, as his eyes coincidentally landed on Gavin Reeds.

Once Gavin met his eyes too, a large scowl blessed his antagonising face. Connor gulped as Gavin looked as though he may come over, but as Gavin pivoted his body, he stopped short, his eyes widening at something directly behind Connor and turned back around reluctantly, though he was still radiating pure hatred. Connor turned to see Ronan death-glaring at Gavin coolly.

“I thought you already left to hang out with your friends or something,” Connor said dumbly, shivering at the thought of being on the receiving side of brother’s glare.

“Let me know if he comes at you again,” Ronan ignored, his tone one that could send a stampede of rhinos running in the opposite direction. “He's not allowed to mess with you anymore.”

Connor nodded slowly as Ronan walked off, possibly to go hang out with his many, multiple, cooler friends.

Connor never planned on telling Ronan or his dad about the number of verbal offences Gavin had thrown at Connor over the past two years. Sure, ever since seventh year Gavin had been horrible to him. In eighth grade, when Ronan witnessed one of the many assaults that was delivered by Gavin and his gang, he got so mad, and threw some punches himself. Connor shuddered when he thought of the scene, and how mad Ronan was. After, he had dragged Connor back home and explained in detail to Hank what had happened. It took hours to convince his two family members not to go to the principal.

Ronan had roughed them up pretty badly, and Connor figured Ronan was the only guy Gavin legitimately feared. Connor knew he should use that to his advantage, but if he was being honest with himself, he would rather Ronan (and his dad) be kept in the dark about all of this.

It wasn't the number of threats Gavin spewed at him every time they did go toe-to-toe, it was the plain fact that he was fed up of living under his brother's shadow. He knew Ronan was generally better than him, and that annoyed him quite a bit. He had been living under Ronan’s protection for too long, and if Gavin should fear anyone. It should be Connor. And Connor will eventually stand up for himself.

But that day was not today.

Once Ronan left, Gavin immediately started to make his way towards Connor, his other insolent friends not too far behind him.

“Hey Connor,” Gavin sneered, slinging an arm around him tightly, “how was your holidays?”

“They were ok,” Connor answered evenly.

“Really? I'm glad they were. But unfortunately, your bitchy-ass is back in school now, and we have a lot of things to catch up on.”

With that, he shoved Connor into the nearest wall, which turned out to be the greenhouse, and the hot plastic wall burned against him. Connor shifted uncomfortably.

“Still not trying to stand up for yourself? Well I wouldn't expect much from such a retarded pussy,” Gavin spat, as his friends laughed.

All Connor could do was glare back at him, though it wasn't as nearly threatening as Ronan’s ice blue eyes can produce.

“You look so stupid,” one of Gavin's friends laughed. “What kind of dog’s vagina were you birthed from?”

Connor just wanted to leave. Or rather, he would rather they leave. And he knew the quickest way they would was if he remained quiet. They wouldn't have a physical go at him before school started.

“You just never get upset with this, do you, Connor?” Gavin sneered, tightening his hold on him. “You never cry or scream or fight back or do anything. What are you? Some sort of fucking robot?!”

With that, Gavin punched him right in the face. Welp, I was wrong about things not getting physical, Connor thought.

It wasn't a hard punch. It wasn't enough to cause a bruise or start bleeding, but the punch to the chest might've bruised.

“Are you going to go crying to your asshole brother after this?”

“You're so pathetic.”

“You just think your Mr-fuckin-Perfect, don't ya?”

Gavin was smiling now. He was enjoying it. He must've missed picking on Connor. He raised his fist to strike a blow again, but is eyes caught something else exiting the greenhouse.

“Ralph will be planting all sorts of flowers! Yes! Yes! There will be sunflowers. Ralph will plant lovely sunflowers!”

The boys turned their heads to spot the blonde boy skipping excitedly into the greenhouse, not noticing Connor or Gavin and his gang. Gavin’s hands immediately slackened.

“Oh lookie here, it’s the psycho freak,” Gavin cackled, gesturing at Ralph. “What do ya say, guys? Maybe we should go rough him up a bit. Can't have him forgetting how much of a creep he is.”

“He'll probably grow up being a homeless pedo,” said another one of the boys. “You know, living on the streets and shit, and sucking dick for money.

“He'll definitely be a drug addict. Or a rapist. Maybe both. Maybe he already is.”

“He's so fucking weird. I don't know, he even scares the shit out of me. I saw him approaching my little sister with a flower once. Had to teach him a solid lesson,” said another guy, who cracked his meaty knuckles.

Gavin let go of Connor and started making his way over to his next target, his friends in tow.

“I'll catch you later, fag,” Gavin insulted, before spitting in Connor’s face for good measure.

What a lovely start to the day, Connor thought sarcastically as he heard Ralph cries from inside the greenhouse.

Connor made his way to his locker, keyed in his code and started to get ready for his first two periods. Double geometry. That didn't seem so bad. He had a few acquaintances within that class, and he didn't mind the class itself. But, first he had to get through a boring, all-school assembly, that was sure to be a pain.

And it was.

Upon making it to the assembly with the rest of his Homeroom class, the principal stepped up on the small podium, and smiled at the academy proudly. She welcomed back old students, and greeted new ones, then went on with some inspirational speech for 2019, and all of the blatant hopes she had for the school. Connor listened nevertheless, but he couldn't help but notice there was a new student in his class.

The boy looked nervous, his eyes occasionally scanning the sea of students, but also trying to look normal and blend in. Unfortunately for him, new students who weren't freshman stood out like a sore thumb, and others were casting some curious glances at the tanned boy.

Once assembly had ended, Connor made his way down to the room where he was assigned double geometry. He watched as few students trickled in, some who even said a small ‘hello’ to him. They all went to sit in their seats, flunked with their friends.

“Hi, Connor,” Daniel greeted, sitting next to him tentatively.

“Hello, Daniel. How was your summers?” Connor asked politely.

“Pretty good. My family and I went to Chile and Peru. Emma really enjoyed it. How about you?”

“I just stayed around in Detroit, but that's okay. Gave me a chance to relax before school started up again.”

Daniel nodded in understanding, and a content silence settled over them.

Daniel and Connor weren't exactly friends, but they were close acquaintances with each other. Both of them being quite unpopular, and leaning more towards the introverted side, they could find some sort of solace in that. Daniel was seen as somewhat of a punching bag to the other boys at school too, so Connor assumed he didn't have any friends either.

Then the teacher walked in with the new kid.

“So sorry! I'm a bit late,” Mr Collins exclaimed as he shuffled to his desk and dumped his heavy satchel. “But welcome back everybody! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday. And on the topic of ‘welcoming’, can everyone give a warm welcome to our newest student at Cyder Line Academy, Markus.”

There was a scattered applause, and the new guy, Markus, smiled uncomfortably. Though he looked a little hesitant, Connor picked up that he held himself quite confidently. He had a brown buzz cut, coffee-coloured complexion, but the most striking thing about him was his eyes. One leafy green, the other sky blue.

“Go and introduce yourself, Markus,” Mr Collins encouraged, running a hand through his greying hair as he searched for something in his satchel.

“Ok, um,” he started, “hi. I'm Markus Manfred. I moved here from Delaware to Michigan not too long ago when my dad got a new job opportunity to continue his career in art. Um, I was homeschooled for most of my life, so attending an actual school is really different. But I'll get used to it.”

The teacher nodded, seemingly satisfied with Markus’ introduction.

“Well, I'm sure we are all very honoured to be your first time at school,” Mr Collins said, unaware of the suppressed snickers throughout the class. “You may take a seat next to North.”

Upon hearing her name, North looked up in surprise. She maybe been zoning out before, and though she was one of the most beautiful albeit intimidating girls in the school, Markus obliviously dumped his things next to her, and sat down with ease.

With that, double geometry began. And so did the actual school year.

[liarsadvocate]

PERSONA 5 AU PROFILE

I finally finished the profile! You don’t gotta read this if you wanna roleplay with me in this AU, this is more like a dump so I don’t forget this stuff.

Name: Ouma Kokichi Age: 18 Education: Shujin Academy Residence: Yongen-Jaya

Arcana: Fortune Persona: Nezumi Kozou Melee Weapon: Daggers/Hunting Knives Ranged: Pistols (Only used when absolutely necessary)

BACKGROUND

Kokichi’s parents died when he was young and it’s unclear when and how he found his way to an orphanage. Once turning old enough to live alone, he moved into his own apartment, a cheap place in Yongen-Jaya. A while ago, he had experienced a few weird, surreal encounters that are blurry in his memory, until he found a mysterious app on his phone that granted him access to the metaverse. After an unfortunate accident and fighting off the owner of a palace, his rebellion lead to the discovery of his persona. Since then, he sometimes visits Mementos to use his skill for good in disguise.

DICE exists, though he hasn’t told them about the existence of the metaverse yet. It’s a parallel dimension with many risks and an experience like that is life-changing. So, he’ll investigate it first until he understands how it works, before dragging them into something they can’t turn away from later. Most importantly though, fighting is always connected to violence and even if they’re not fighting humans or animals, just shadows, it leaves a bad aftertaste. Kokichi knows how useful the metaverse is to do good and after having seen it he can’t turn his eyes away, but he feels bad about fighting and is often caught in an internal conflict due to this. Until he solves this for himself, he doesn’t want to burden them with these countless problems.

ARCANA “ The Fortune Arcana is portrayed by the Wheel of Fortune and symbolizes fate, luck, fortune and opportunity. Personas of this Arcana often specialize in Wind-based abilities. They are depicted as mythological figures or deities that control fate / omens.Human characters of the Fortune.

Human characters of the Fortune Arcana are usually individuals who attempt to seize their own destiny in spite of fate and are typically involved with making important choices and decisions in response to what life throws at them. “ (Taken from the Megami Tensei Wikia)

I chose this Arcana since Ouma, to be blunt, tends to have real shit luck and easily ends up in situations in canon where yes, a lot was his own fault, but a lot was also him ending up in terrible situations, trying to control them and making grave decisions that changed the entire course of the game itself. 

PERSONA: NEZUMI KOZOU

History: During the Edo period, he was a thief and folk hero said to steal from the rich and give to the poor. Over the span of 15 years, he stole around 30.000 ryo, despite the theft of 10 ryo being punished with death and having already received a warning tattoo in form of a stripe on his arm. His thievery was a humiliation towards the wealthy samurai he stole from. Some historians believe he might have wasted the money on women and gambling, but the poor celebrated him for mocking the oppressive forces and their lack of security through his deeds. Thus, it is unsure what his true nature was.

Nakamura Jirokichi received the nickname ‘Nezumi Kozou’, which translates to ‘rat urchin.’ When breaking into samurai’s homes, he was said to release a bag of rats into their residence to cover up the possible noise he made while stealing. In reference to Jirokichi’s good luck, many scrape stone off his grave when visiting it in Tokyo.

Reference: 💜  💙

OUMA’S PHANTOM THIEF OUTFIT

His upper body is concealed by a white, formal jacket. It has a closed collar, three fake bondage straps on each of his arms and more or less loose, colourful buttons at the front. It looks like someone tied a kimono sash around his waist, made of checkered black and white fabric, but it’s tightly sewn into the fabric of his jacket and there’s no knot or ribbon to be seen. His pants are in the same fashion, white, fake bondage belts, and he wears thin, laced boots of the same colour. Dangling from his hips are two broken chains that seem to lead nowhere. Around his shoulders, he’s wearing a torn cape, black on the outside, dark purple on the inside.

The final parts of his outfit are of course the mask and gloves. Since they always need to be colourful for a phantom thief, his are purple. A white, half mask covers his eyes with the same motive as his official DICE mask. Kokichi both likes it and complains about his outfit, because some parts of it are cumbersome, but he’ll grow comfortable with it over time.

(It’s different from his official artwork, but the outfit is obviously inspired by it. I did this because I believe DICE portrays a great part of his beliefs and strength and is such a huge part of his life that it’s simply tied to his rebellion, too.)

NEZUMI KOZOU

Visual Description: As a young man from Japan during the Edo period, Nezumi is wearing part of a snow white kimono on his upper body, with a black sash tied around his waist and hems of the same colour. It’s hard to see, but the inside of the kimono part is checkered. His pants are made of white fabric as well, though silver chains tightly wind around them starting from his hips. Raven, straight hair flows over his shoulders and floats ominously around him, along with his attire, whenever he attacks. Nezumi’s skin is pale as bone and his face is covered by a full white mask, matching the one Kokichi wears, though the sides are inverted.

He does not carry an obvious weapon, but there are daggers hidden underneath his clothes. What he always carries with him is the huge rat cage on his back. It is crafted of a white, silvery frame holding chambers of black tinted glass, each containing either a rat or a fortune spirit. Most ominous are the rats themselves, for they have pitch-black fur and violet, glowing eyes.

The fortune spirits are bound to doll-shaped Omikuji. One may believe they represent fortune and the rats represent misfortune, but since Nezumi used his rats to cover up his noise and distract from his deeds, one may also associate it to Kokichi’s lies, since they’re his cover up and greatest tool, too.

Nezumi Kozou’s clothes are torn and dirty, but his determination to mock the oppression remains undefeated.

Fighting style: Befitting of a thief, he has a relatively low defence, but a high attack rate and agility as compensation. Nezumi uses his rats in battle to brainwash and confuse enemies into attacking each other or being more vulnerable towards critical hits. Some of his attacks are like the wind carrying the disturbing chatter of rats to your ears, while others strike you mercilessly and quickly to bestow a swift death upon you. The fortune spirits grant him and his companions greater luck and useful status conditions.

Sidenote: I originally wanted a historical figure, a pacifist against violence or something similar, but there was nothing I could have used together with the lies and trickery theme necessary for him, sooo...I ended up picking this. Not 100% what I wanted, but not bad I believe. I adjusted a few things about Kozou, but yeah. Also, jokes on Ouma, the “good luck charm” thing is pretty ironic since Ouma tends to have shitty luck himself. So I guess this acts more as a neutralisation in battle.

[thesecretheadteacher]

Bullying

I make no apology for the length of this entry as the topic of bullying is a very emotive one. Where it occurs, it can be such a damaging and destructive set of actions, leaving the victims upset, hurt or, in a few cases, contemplating or going through with attempts at suicide. It is probably one of the biggest fears parents have for their child whilst at school and also something they feel unable to help with.

The scale of bullying: Once again, for those of us who were raised in the 70s and 80s, we are likely to have witnessed or experienced bullying on an industrial scale. These were the days before there was any awareness or acceptance of difference: the closest anyone got to neurodiversity back then would be if it was the name of a new wave pop group. Anyone with autism, ADHD or any other, fairly common, condition, was just seen as a ‘weirdo’, anyone who was slightly effeminate, or merely kind was ‘gay’ and anyone whose skin colour was darker than you would expect from a 2 week holiday in Skegness, was a N word or the Asian P word. These were just the verbal bullying, of course there was also the physical bullying, I think I was lucky to get through these years with both testicles intact, as they were treated like mosquitos – someone always looking to swat, flick, kick, stamp, punch or knee them, and the resulting excruciating pain provided the watching group with the highest form of hilarity. I guess it was probably different for girls. Fortunately, such sustained and ongoing bullying is very rare and, though parents should be vigilant, in the vast majority of cases, it is something that can be dealt with very easily and effectively by the school.

What is Bullying?: The key starting point for tackling bullying is knowing what bullying is. Most parents will be using their own experiences, possibly from school, but more likely form the media: whether that was watching Gripper Stebson with his 1950s teddy boy style, grabbing various Grange Hill characters by the throat as part of his dinner money pyramid scheme, through to Nelson Muntz giving Bart a wedgie on the Simpsons. Or maybe from stories or videos, some truly horrific, of young people being set upon and beaten up by groups of kids. None of these, however, help to clarify what bullying is.

There is no legal definition of bullying in the UK but, in a school context most would view it as ‘repeated behaviour which is intended to hurt someone either emotionally or physically, and is often aimed at certain people because of their race, religion, gender or sexual orientation or any other aspect such as appearance or disability.’

As well as knowing what it is, it is important to know what it isn’t, because there are many things that rather than having a negative impact upon our children, are actually valuable and important learning episodes (I can hear myself morphing into Oprah here):

-        Falling out with each other – this happens and is an important part of their development into adulthood to deal with conflict with others. Unfortunately, far too many parents see this as bullying because their child might be upset as a result of it.

-        Day to day rough and tumble – this particularly applies to boys as they grow up. There is some good science around the importance of ‘horseplay’ (Fry, D. P. (2005). Rough and tumble social play in humans / Pellis, S. M., & Pellis, V. C. (2012). Rough-and-tumble play: Training and using the social brain). Think of it like young animals that jump and climb and wrestle and fight. Having done thousands of break and lunch duties, I am very familiar with what is horse play and what is a bit more serious – the basic guide being are they all having fun, it is very easy to see if someone isn’t or if one individual is being targeted – that is where we step in.

-        A one-off omission: for example not being invited to something outside of school.

-        Not liking someone: we cannot make pupils like each other. This is another important learning point to help in growing up. I am sure we all have people in our own lives that we don’t like, but through our adolescent development, we have learned how to deal with that.

-        Arguments: these happen all the time, as anyone who has been married will testify.

-        A single act of telling a joke about someone. We have all been the butt of a joke at some point - usually funny for others, less so for us.

Of course if any of these things become repeated or several of them happen towards the same child, then yes this would then constitute bullying.

How to deal with bullying: this is what most parents want to know and is the point at which some parents go horribly wrong. So here is my step by step guide:

1.      The most important thing is that the child tells someone. Staff in school are usually excellent at spotting things going on – I have lost count of the number of times I have been on duty and, amidst the mass of humanity that makes up lunch time, spotted a child looking a bit down, on their own or upset.

2.      Watch out for changes in your child: mood swings, sudden aggression, withdrawal from family life (though take care as these are also the default setting for most teenagers.)

3.      If your child can’t talk about it, get them to write it down.

4.      If it involves social media, which increasingly it does, switch it off – delete the apps and don’t engage.

5.      NOW CONTACT THE SCHOOL. I have put this in caps because this is the most important thing. Having discovered you think your child is being bullied, you will be feeling angry, shocked, protective, aggressive and maybe even feel you have failed your child. This heady concoction of feelings is not a good place from which to start to address the issue.

6.      Work with the school: the vast majority of schools deal with these things on an almost daily basis. They know the other children, they see the interactions, they know the parents of the other child or children. They care deeply about your child and the other children and they will do what they feel is best.

7.      If things don’t get any better, then escalate the matter within the school – schools are hierarchical and above a form tutor is a head of year, above them a member of the Senior Leadership Team and above them the headteacher.

How not to deal with bullying: the steps above should lead to the matter being resolved and your child returning to their usual happy, or at least apathetic, experience of school. However, I have had plenty of first-hand experience of parents who decide to handle the matter differently – none of these led to a better outcome than following my advice, and some led to far more serious outcomes for them.

-        Don’t start the discussion off by being abusive or threatening the school for ‘failing your child’. Venting your anger on a poor receptionist won’t make the wheels move faster.

-        Don’t start at the top. I have had many examples of parents contacting me directly, as headteacher, to deal with a falling out between two pupils. Though I have decades of pastoral experience, there are far more appropriate people to look into the matter. It isn’t that I don’t care, but the school and education system wouldn’t really be getting its money’s worth out of me if I spend 6 hours a day in ‘circle time’ with Year 7 girls who have fallen out.

-        Don’t go above the top. On a number of occasions I have had parents decide that, rather than inform the school, they think the matter would be resolved quicker by going above the school to the Local Authority, Ofsted, The Diocese, local MP, Parish Priest, the press, the Pope or anyone else they could think of. Needless to say, none of these people are really in a good position to unravel the reasoning behind why Sally didn’t invite your Bethany to Cineworld last week.

-        Don’t encourage your child to take matters into their own hands. “I’m sorry Sir but I have told him, if anyone says anything to you, you just punch them” or “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t tell your son to hit them if they say anything.” Well-meaning as this advice from some parents is, it isn’t really great preparation for the world of work. For that day when little Billy grows up, gets his job in middle management and has a falling out with Steve from accounts and decides a good right hook might progress things. So unless you have grand plans for your child to move into the gangland underworld, it really isn’t good advice.

-        Don’t take matters into your own hands with the parents. Often when parents raise a concern about another child bullying their own child, they will want to meet with the other parents. Nearly all schools will avoid doing this, not because we are being obstructive, but because a) the parents (usually) aren’t the people who have fallen out and b) both sets of parents will have only heard their own child’s version of events and will be overly protective. It doesn’t work. Likewise contacting the other parents by text, social media or be going round to the house – all of these are like trying to put a fire out armed with aerosols and petrol. I have witnessed parents going for each other outside the school gate, or picked up the pieces afterwards when one or more parents have been charged with assault.

-        Don’t take matters into your own hands with the child. No matter what you have been told about the other child, they are still that, a child. I have known many occasions where a parent has approached a child directly to ‘warn them off’ like some sort of mafia enforcer. Now I don’t know how they have thought it would play out in real life, but the reality is usually that the child is with some friends, feels like they can’t lose face and so rather than say “Yes of course Mrs T, it was wring of me to behave like that towards your little Mickey, it won’t happen again, take care.” It ends up more “Who are you talking to? Get away you Pedo. I didn’t do anything. F*&k Off, I am going to get my dad on to you.” To be fair this approach does often end the initial bullying and is replaced by family warfare, police action and lawyer involvement.

Don’t arrange a ‘settler’. This is where both sets of parents arrange for the children to meet up and have a settler (a fight to resolve things). For many of you reading this, the very thought would be horrific, but for some of the communities I have worked in, this is the ‘honourable’ way to do things. I have known parents set up times / places for the fight, have rules around not jumping in and even drive their children to the event, like an evening at a Justin Bieber concert. This is not just for boys, I have known it happen with girls too and heard a child describe how her dad had watched her get knocked all over the place then afterwards suggest that the matter was no closed.

[darkdoings]

;; Of Darkest Souls

NOTE: Some possible triggers might be foul language and sexual intercourse.This one took a really long time to do and it’s reeeeally long, haha. I hope this is as equally as enjoyable as the other pieces I did and if you spot any mistakes please let me know so that I can fix it straight away! Thanks! :) <3

                     “. . . And we implore all residents in the L.A area to set a strict curfew for themselves and remain indoors in the hours after daylight.” A masculine, authoritative voice advised through the radio in your vehicle, “We also highly recommend that all doors and windows be locked whether you be at home or out tending to business. We may be a city held captive by the valley-intruder, a sadistic killer; but, we are a city united. Everyone, stay sa—”

                      Simultaneously, as you rounded a corner to enter your neighbourhood, you pinched the volume dial with your index finger && thumb and decreased the sound of your radio to a barely audible chatter. Out of respect for your quiet neighbourhood, you maintained the low volume along the extension of your street in an attempt to avoid rousing unnecessary noise at the late hour. You looked up from your stereo system shortly thereafter and as a routine while driving you glanced in your review mirror. It was much to your surprise that a vehicle not native to your neighbourhood appeared to be closely following behind you and it was deemed suspicious as the headlights were extinguished under the overcast of the NIGHT’s darkness. A knot of unease had formed in the pit of your stomach and instead of pulling into your driveway – which had only been meters away – you detoured down an alternative road adjacent to your street with the intention of losing your suspected STALKER.

                      Your eyes had become more fixated on your review mirror rather than focusing on your actual driving and as a result you had decelerated to a pace that your pursuer had matched without a visible complaint or sign of frustration. When you had returned your attention to weigh more heavily on your driving, you accelerated to a greater speed which the driver in the vehicle following you also maintained. You narrowed your brows and you proceeded to access the situation as being more precarious than you had originally thought because of your suspected STALKER’s determination.

                      With the continued hope that you could eventually elude the other driver you sharply turned various corners; entered && exited several different neighbourhoods; and drove at illegal speeds to discourage the determined driver. All of your antics had been for no avail and as a last resort you had departed from suburbs to instead make your way towards downtown Los Angeles. Unlike the suburbs, the downtown area would be more heavily populated with people and you had a much higher probability of seeking assistance. Or, a much needed distraction to divert the mysterious driver who had been following you at such an uncomfortable proximity.

                      Much to your delight, the vibrant lights illuminating Main Street engulfed your sense of unease and replaced the knot in your stomach with butterflies of optimism. You began to feel less alone and ultimately you could now focus your thoughts on an exit strategy as opposed to succumbing to your fear for the STALKER. Scrutinizing the city surroundings was essential to formulating your plan and your eyes had eventually located a dimly lit coffee shop where you decided to seek refuge. You did not signal into the parking lane and you abruptly rotated your steering wheel to snag a parking spot in attempt to catch the pursuer by surprise. Unfortunately, the opposite driver’s reflexes had been as swift as your own and as a result the STALKER’s vehicle had parked behind yours. You hastily gathered a few of your belongings – purse, money, and keys – while simultaneously watching the pursuer in your review mirror to see how they were responding to the sudden stop. It was difficult to read the expression of the STALKER because of the black spectacles adorned on their face and with the ambition to learn more about the deranged stalker you instantaneously exited your vehicle. Your pursuer remained unmoving as you closed your vehicle’s door behind you and as your head turned to come face-to-face with the pursuer you had identified the individual as being a male.

                      As if to insight peace && invite him to declare a truce on his freakish proclivities, you flashed him a small smile while locking your vehicle’s door and departing to enter the coffee shop. He appeared to have taken his loss in his game of stalking with grace; however, for the extra measure of safety you had maintained your distance from him within the moderately occupied café.

                      Meanwhile, as you busied yourself with making an order for a warm beverage, the STALKER behind the wheel of his vehicle had been fuming at the fact that he had been beaten at his own game. His slender digits tightly coiled around the cylindrical circumference of his steering wheel and his jaw had been visibly clenched as he allowed for his anger to consume him. The smile that you had flashed at him left a definite impression and he had understood it to be an insult to his capabilities. Allowing for his fury to guide his conscious && his actions, he promptly exited his vehicle next and continued to follow you inside of the coffee shop. You were in the midst of vocalizing your order to the barista when suddenly a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders and an overly jubilant voice had cut you off,

                      “Some girly coffee, yeah, whatever.” the perpetrator mused aloud while prying his ebony-coloured shades off of his tanned visage, “None of that bitter shit. Just two bottles of Pepsi.”

                      Astonished by this stranger’s hold on, you began to push away from his towering physique while expressing your distraught, “What? No. I—”

                      The man’s extension around your shoulders tightened and he rolled his eyes while his lips parted to express a toothy smile. All the while, your eyes searched the faces of the few employees for help and despite the unnerving && unorthodox hold that the man had on you the employees seemed to . . . laugh?! You were confused about the conduct and as the man paid for the drinks that he had ordered for the pair of you he had engaged in a conversation with the cashier,

                      “You’re going to drink this place dry, I swear.”

                      “More of a reason to stay well stocked.” The tanned man calmly responded and dropped an addition paper bill on the counter top to provide a tip, “Thanks for the drinks.”

                      After nodding at the baristas && the cashiers, the man picked up both of the bottles with his free hand and turned around – with you still entrapped in his other arm – to the direction of a table away from other guests. You wanted to avoid the manifestation of an embarrassing scene and instead of continuing to fight the grasp of the man you feverishly walked to an unoccupied table with him. The arm that was tightly wound around your shoulders eventually loosened so that you could sit yourself in a chair and once you had been seated he placed his glasses && the beverages upon the tabletop before situating himself on a chair at the opposite end from you. His visage had all emotions absent and he proceeded to nonchalantly slide one of the soda bottles towards you.

                      It took his cringe-worthy performance of the claustrophobic jest for you to realize that he was a favoured local who regularly paid homage to the shop and that you had quite literally lead yourself into the lion’s den. Your situation had become more precarious with no immediate end in sight.

                    Stubbornly, you had refused to touch the drink he had passed off to you and instead of showing thankfulness for his generosity you glared at him. As for your next attempt at eluding the man, you had brought your hands up to the table and with your palms pressed against the surface you were eager to push yourself to stand && take your leave. Once you were in the middle of erecting your posture, he also brought his arms up to rest upon the tabletop and in your peripheral vision you noticed that he had discreetly produced a pistol. He leaned his weight onto the table to assert his presence and when he was certain that you had seen his barely concealed weapon, he spoke,

                      “That’s right.” He hissed with hostility, “So how about you just sit the fuck down and have a drink with ME.”

                      The fear of being shot had chilled you to your core and you obliged with his instructions to pacify his aggressions. Once you had reseated yourself, you followed up with a barrage of inquiries.

                      “Do I know you? Do you know me? Why were you even following me? And why can’t you just leave me alone?”

                      “I was going to leave you alone.” He admitted and simultaneously twisted the cap off of his bottle as he continued on, “But then you pulled that little stunt  — it pissed ME off.”

                      “What stunt?”

                      “This.” The man speedily answered and flashed a toothy, congenial smile at you.

                      It took a moment for you to grasp onto what he was alluding to and once you figured it out you were quick to defend your actions, “I smiled out of kindness . . . it’s your fault you misinterpreted it.”

                      “It’s your fault that it pissed ME off.”

                      Reasoning with a sickly deranged man held no satisfactory results for you and your eyes had began to wander around the shop as you planned the fastest route to flee the café. His demented gaze followed yours and his shoulders shook as he chuckled at your expense; the desperation you were expressing was somehow a joke to him.

                      “No matter how fast you think you can run, you cannot outrun the consequences.” The ominous male mused aloud while tracing his fingertip along the trigger of his gun.

                      “Consequences?”

                      “Yeah, I mean, it’ll be you or them.” He shrugged carelessly while reaching for his bottle with his free hand once again to take another swig of the sugary contents, “Kind of fun having that power over life and death, huh?”

                      “So either way, I’m fucked.” You sternly hissed back and furrowed your brows to express agitation, “Loads of fun.”

                      “It can be,” He quickly followed up as his eyes seemed to illuminate subsequent to your sarcastic notion while his hand retracted from his bottle and disappeared under the table where he feathered his touch along the flesh of your leg, “—getting fucked, I mean. Now there is an idea.”

                      An uncomfortable silence fell between the both of you after he had taken the original meaning of your words and twisted them to fill a space in his unrelenting agenda. You astonished yourself by genuinely deliberating the potential third course of action and to encourage a speedy decision he boldly traced his long digits further up your thigh. To keep his interests, you detoured your hand beneath the tabletop and took his large hand into your smaller one. He seemed to be surprised by your display of random affection and under the assumption that you were playing a trick on him he made sure to flash the sight of his pistol a second time as a reminder of the consequences laying in your midst. In response to his overly cautious threat, you rolled your eyes, leaned in close to him, and whispered in his ear,

                      “The Cecil?” You proposed a location while pointing out of the shop’s window towards the beige building situated several blocks away.

                      His gaze followed the direction in which you had been pointing in and he nodded while the faintest glow of a smirk accented his facial features. Before rising to his feet, he maneuvered his grasp from within your hand to your wrist where he had securely taken hold of you. He made it evident that any emotional interest was absent and that your involvement together was purely physical — something the both of you could agree to.

                      The journey from the coffee shop towards Hotel Cecil was a quiet one and he lead with one firm step in front of the other; he paid little attention to the struggle you were putting up to keep pace with his long-legged strides. You also noted the way in which he had seemed to be familiar with the hotel’s surroundings as you neared the building and once entering you thought it had been strange when he had insisted that you pay for the room. The excuse that he had offered up involved paying for the drinks just moments ago and that it was only fair that you covered the cost of a temporary room at the hotel. You digressed at his poor logic and ended up paying for the room as it was only temporarily.

                      From the beautifully crafted marble lobby towards the location of the cheaply bought room, you and the man ventured into the depths of Hotel Cecil.  You fidgeted with the room key in your hands during the period of awkward silence and he walked alongside you while his hands were nonchalantly stuffed into the pockets of his obsidian-coloured, leather jacket. Not long after your departure from the main entrance, you both had arrived at the door of your room and you fumbled to unlock the mechanism while he nosily peered over your shoulder.

                      You entered the room first once you had gained access and he followed behind you to inspect the surroundings as you busied yourself with closing && relocking the door. In a brief moment when you had faltered in your decision to be with this man, you prolonged the task of relocking the door. He suspected that you had a motive for your procrastination and he swatted your hand away so that he could speedily complete the task himself. As he tossed the key aside on a nearby surface, you had taken the opportunity to maneuver yourself around him so that you stood directly behind him.

                      You had prevented him from turning around to face you by placing the palms of your hands upon his shoulders and once he had slightly turned his head to evaluate your advances you simultaneously traveled your hands to the collar of his jacket. Between your index fingers && your thumbs, the material slightly bundled up and curled down as you began to peel the piece of attire off of his frame. He aided you in the endeavor by shrugging his shoulders and in due time the jacket had fallen to the floor around your feet. Without presenting him a moment to move just yet, your hands then found a new location on his physique and your fingertips glided along the hemming of the lowest end of his shirt. You then proceeded to roll up the length of his shirt and with the intention of prolonging his vulnerability you ghosted the chilled ends of your fingertips along the bronzed flesh of his back. Much to your delight, you had been rewarded with feeling him shudder at your teasing touch and you could not help but smirk at his reaction. You thoroughly valued the control you had over the situation; however, you remained gentle and stood on the tips of your toes to finish removing his shirt up & over his head without causing him discomfort. Successfully, you had exposed his torso and you took a greedy moment to marvel at the lean structure of his body.

                      He had grown suspicious of why you had ceased in your advances and he spontaneously rotated 180-degrees on his heels to face you. The space between you both had been promptly closed and he had placed each of his large hands on your cheeks before pressing a hard kiss too your lips. You stumbled a few steps back subsequent to the velocity that his lips had assaulted you at and your hands abruptly clutched onto his shoulders to keep yourself from collapsing. Intimacy soon collided with pain once his teeth nibbled carnivorously on your bottom lip; shortly before separating from the kiss his teeth had pierced a small surface of your lip’s skin and the coppery flavour of your blood tainted both of your pallets.

                      “Your turn.” He growled with a sexual appetite that he yearned to be fulfilled.

                      You nodded with equal interest and turned your back to him so that you could begin to remove each layer of your attire – beginning with pieces adorning your torso. While you were in the midst of pulling your shirt up && over your head, you could hear him undoing his pants and it encouraged you to make haste. He granted you extra time in removing your remaining apparel by igniting a dim lamp on the nightstand and flicking a different switch to extinguish the ceiling light. With the ambiance set, you stood next to the bed and you both shared a moment to stare at one another to admire the nakedness of your bodies.

                      You gestured for him to come to you by crooking your index finger in a ‘come hither’ motion and in the moments succeeding your invitation he came to you in a few swift strides. As you collided with one another, his arms enveloped your body and in return your hands rested on his chest. You had achieved some leverage and as your hands were against his chest you pushed against him until you had both collapsed onto the bed in a position where he lay beneath you. The man looked up at you with uncertainty woven in his expression and you abruptly leaned down to him to press a reassuring kiss to his lips.

                      You knew he would have wished for the positions to be reversed; however, you were set in your ways and you had the intention of pushing his boundaries further. From his lips to his jaw-line and then along his collarbone to his neck, you had peppered his bronze flesh with a barrage of kisses. Your lips then detoured from his neck along his torso towards his midsection until you had straightened your back while concurrently straddling his narrow waist. It took a few additional readjustments before you had been properly situated near his hips where his erected member had slipped into the intimate folds between your thighs.

                      You were sitting up in the middle of the bed where you were illuminated by the lamp on the night table and the light attractively infused your skin with a warm glow, as if you had been dipped in honey. Slowly, his hands traveled up your thighs then suddenly rounded to your backside where he had taken hold of your buttocks and at his urging you began to circle your hips atop his. You turned your back to all of your morals and any regrets you might have still had entirely vanished as you relished in the moment’s gratification.

                      As you straddled your supine lover, you began to ride him more vigorously and the toned muscles of your shoulders, back, and arms tensed to keep you on balance. Your locks of hair began to swing – like a pendulum across your back – in rhythm with your motions while the unnamed man lay passively beneath you, groaning in pleasure and exhaustion, with his head thrown back against the mattress. The sharpness of his crookedly trimmed nails slightly pierced your skin as his grip tightened on your rear and you reached out to brace yourself against his chest for a moment. Inspired, a pleasurable stirring evolved between your legs and both of you released gasps of mounting ecstasy.

                      Your cries of euphoria grew louder and more urgent - joining with those of the man below you – as he lets go a howl of ecstatic release. A small laugh filled with delight escaped you upon witnessing his abandon and shortly after a final sort gasp of your own was followed up with a long, low moan of pleasure. Your jaw went slack, your lips were parted, and your chin was ascended heavenward in your euphoric abandon. Both of your hearts had been beating as a result of your sensual efforts and in order to compose yourself you collapsed onto the bed beside him.

                      Neither you nor he cared to engage in additional acts of affection and when you had both recovered you redressed yourselves in your respective garb.  You had gotten what you wanted from him and he had gotten what he wanted from you; together you unanimously decided to depart from Hotel Cecil. The only display of fondness exhibited was holding hands, as per your request, to look like a couple while you exited the room && the building. You kept your eyes on the sky during the venture back to your vehicles and the sparkle from the stars above beautifully reflected off of your eyes. The NIGHT sky was always a charming sight to behold and opposite you the man thought your behaviour to be strange. As if to mock your interest, he nudged your shoulder to get your attention and he chuckled as he spoke,

                      “Scared of the dark, or something?”

                      “No,” you truthfully answered.

                      “Hoping to wish on a falling star than?”

                      “No.” You repeated.

                      He rolled his eyes in response to your boring answers and in an attempt to keep his interest you quickly provided a better answer, “I just like the NIGHT – the dark – you know? I would rather be a NIGHT STALKER instead of a Day Walker.”

                      His attention had been successfully garnered and he turned his head to look at you while he studied your answer. There had been something specific about your answer that made him smirk in thought and it had rendered him silent up until reaching your parked vehicles where you had exchanged a short goodbye.

                      Once seating yourself inside your car, you adjusted your seatbelt && ignited the engine of your vehicle and when you looked up to check your mirrors you noticed he had already moved his car beside yours. The man had pulled up parallel to you and he lowered the passenger window of his car. He then leaned over to the passenger seat while he waited for you to lower your car’s window and when you did he had devilishly smiled at you before speaking,

                      “I like that – a NIGHT STALKER. It sounds better than being dubbed the ‘Valley-Intruder’.”      

                                                        —— I want it all or

                                                                                                        NOT at all.

[pomrania]

Blank

((part of the Little by Little AU))

Sabine stood nervously at the door. She knew she was in the right place. She recognized it, vaguely, from when she had taken Kanan there months ago; and more importantly, there was a sign. N0151-A... that could be both Kanan's "Enno-fifteen" and Ezra's "Noisi".

There were also the dots, under the letters. As Ezra had described, they were indeed raised. She was in the right place, probably.

She looked at the writing, and traced it with her fingers. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine reading based off of just that touch. It was possible, she knew that... she just couldn't understand being able to read that way, and only being able to read that way. She never wanted to have to understand that. (She didn’t want anyone to have to understand that.)

She checked for a buzzer. If there was one, she couldn't see it. She raised a hand to knock, then hesitated. Turn back, a part of herself whispered, there's nothing you can do. You'll just make a fool of yourself.

No.

She squared her shoulders, and resolutely knocked on the door. Assuming the droid wasn't busy, or standing directly by the door, the time from knock to response would be anywhere between --

The door slid open, and her first impression was white.

"Welcome, how can I be of assistance?"

She had thought of things to say -- she knew that, she remembered coming up with lines on the way there -- but she couldn't remember a single one of them. She stared blankly at the droid's face.

White, definitely; polished, not dull and dust-coloured like the other droids on base who had originally been white, presumably. Square optics, resembling some lenses she had seen worn by old pictures of scholars. Standard speech grille, and lines meant to evoke a face, yet it still looked blank and empty. Small flashes of colour, deep within, below and beside the optics. Torso... arms... didn't appear to have individual legs, but something on wheels.

She had seen the droid before, she realized. Even aside from when she had led Kanan to his appointment there, an event which she had done her level best to erase from her memory, she remembered seeing that bright white here and there, sticking out among the motley assortment of droids populating the area. Motley assortment of non-droids, too; for items to match was the exception rather than the rule, and most of the people likely never would have met if it weren't for their shared fight against the Empire.

She had something to do, something to ask the droid.... What was that one's name again? She'd heard at least three different versions... and did the droid go by "he", "it", "they", or what? It wasn't what she'd been planning on asking, but it would do until the stuff came to mind again.

"What's actually your name, and are you gendered?" she ended up saying.

Her question didn't appear to elicit any reaction out of the ordinary; for all she knew, people went up to the droid every day and asked dumb stuff like that.

"My designation is N-zero-one-five-one-dash-A. I am aware of a multitude of nicknames used to refer to me, and I will respond to any of them, or others given context to know that I am being addressed. I had not been programmed to have an inherent gender, but many organics feel that my voice is masculine."

No definite answer on that front then, but at least she felt more confident thinking of the droid as "Noisy" as opposed to the proper name.

The droid inclined the head towards her. "Was that the sole reason for your visit?"

No, it hadn't been. She looked around....

"The letters on your door," she said. "The raised ones. What are they?" She was almost certain it was what she thought it was, but she had to know for sure.

"That is the tactile alphabet, an alternate form of writing which does not require visual recognition. In my previous practice it was beneficial, as many clients were unable to sight-read any signs or direction. It is not in common use here, but I have not felt a need to use a different nameplate, without that writing on it, when this one is still quite functional."

She briefly wondered about that "previous practice", then shook the thought away. It wasn't important at the moment. "I'm... interested in that. Do you have any resources?" She needed to say something more. "I don't need... I have stuff that says what letter is what, but nothing to actually feel."

That was horrible. She almost cringed, both at her own words, and in anticipation of how the droid would react.

"Yes, there are resources available here, from my personal supplies. The main priorities of the Rebellion unfortunately do not include visual health and coping with poor or lacking vision, nor do I have a sufficient budget to acquire everything I consider necessary, but they have expressed no issues with me keeping already-acquired supplies. Come in."

Sabine had never actually been inside the medbay. She had been injured before, of course, and even after Chopper Base was established, but it had always been something they could take care of on the ship. The time with Kanan, which she still didn't want to think about, she had stayed outside, and any view she might have had of the interior had been blocked by both him and the droid. If she had been asked earlier to describe what she thought it would look like, she would have said "the same as every other building there", going by its outward appearance.

That was not entirely accurate.

The room was white. Very white. It took her a moment to realize that the lights actually were on a brighter setting, and it wasn't just the unrelieved white which was making her eyes hurt. She idly wondered if the droid would blend right in when not in motion.

Everything was familiar, in the vague sense of one med centre looking a lot like another, if only because of the necessary functions. She saw equipment and machines she recognized but couldn't identify, a desk and terminal, some beds.... The droid moved, no longer blocking her view, and her eye was instantly drawn to the black examination chair, such a visual contrast. The glass-doored cabinet looked like it contained some interesting chemicals, and she noted it out of habit, even if she wasn't going to steal supplies from an ally. Aside from the door she'd just entered, there were three potential exits; but since she didn't know where those other doors might lead, better not to count on them.

All in all, it was incredibly boring, and practically begged Sabine to add some colour to the place; liven it up a bit, or a lot, as she had literally seen cell blocks with more character and colour to them than this room. Her fingers twitched, but she didn't have any paint with her. And also the droid might get upset at that.

Speaking of the droid, Noisy had bent at the waist-equivalent and was going through a drawer, then straightened and wheeled closer, carrying something in the manipulators. The sound told her when the movement started and ended. Maybe that had been the intention and purpose of it; nobody who could hear that noise would ever be surprised by the droid's position.

"You may take the pamphlets, I have others. These are my most easily-accessed examples of the tactile alphabet. The other resources have been put in storage, but I can retrieve them if you would like."

"Can I... just have a moment to look at this first?"

It was the wrong word, "look". At first glance, the pamphlets appeared empty, with a little bit of writing at the top of each. There was no reason for text to be visible.

She was doing it wrong. She closed her eyes, and felt it instead.

It was stiffer than normal flimsi, not as -- ha -- flimsy. She could barely feel anything, was this... no, she was going at it from the wrong angle, literally. Raising something up meant pushing the other side down, after all. She flipped the sheet around, and felt the bumps she had been expecting.

It was... disorienting. She couldn't tell where one symbol ended and another began. Was she holding it right way up? She drew her fingers along what she thought was a line of text, only to find when she reached the other end that she had gone on a diagonal. This was going to be difficult. But she could manage it. Eventually.

She opened her eyes. "Okay. What else do you have?"

"Please wait here."

She watched Noisy open one of the doors she had noted earlier; it was not in fact an exit, unless there was one hidden behind all the boxes. She wondered what was in them. Medical supplies, probably, ones that weren't often called upon; maybe spare parts for the droid.

She looked down, at the brochures. She picked out one titled "nutrition and health" and traced the dots, this time looking at it while she did so. She could visually recognize one symbol off the top of her head, it was the letter A -- or maybe the number 1, depending on context -- but it was difficult to feel that single dot. She would learn, though. She didn't know how, but she would learn. She just needed to pra--

Clattering sound. Her head shot up, and turned in the direction the droid had gone. There was still boxes... just now, more of them were unstacked. Nothing looked broken, and she was vaguely jealous.

"Assuming everything was correctly inventoried, this box should contain what you requested," Noisy said. "Please excuse me while I return the other boxes to their places."

"What is it?" she asked. "I mean, what's in the box?"

The droid didn't pause. "Items related to the tactile alphabet, both in reading and production. Aside from additional copies of the pamphlets, and incomplete or spare components, there is also a printer, and an introductory primer for learners of the tactile alphabet. Unfortunately, my tactile display was lost in the move.”

"To here?" She hadn't thought there had been that much of a rush for Kanan --

Noisy's head shook. "No, the move from my former practice, to the Rebellion. I cannot properly blame them, though, as they were being fired upon at the time, and at least all of the most important equipment arrived safely."

She blinked. Huh. She really shouldn't have been surprised; everyone had a story, even the droids, or at least the more intelligent ones. Yet there was still the obvious question....

"What's a tactile display?" she asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like! It plugs into a terminal or datapad or the like, and displays text in the tactile alphabet by raising dots in the appropriate pattern. Once acquired, it is tremendously freeing to individuals who have difficulties sight-reading, as they don't have to wait for any given text to be transcribed, and listening to audio is not always desirable, for a variety of reasons.”

She would have to look into that, later. Once -- she pushed the thought back. Tactile display, potentially useful, that was all. "How about the 'printer', what's that?”

  How was a droid able to "frown" when the face was completely immobile? One of life's great mysteries, she supposed. "Due to past errors in judgment on my part, the printer is the only method currently at my disposal for an organic to produce the tactile alphabet with the appropriate size and regularity. It is possible to do so by hand, yet I had failed to acquire the tools for that at my previous practice, so they are not available here."

  She'd heard about writing the tactile alphabet by hand; in a tactile way, and not just drawing it out, that would be useless for someone who couldn't see it. Someone like -- no, she wasn't thinking about that right now stop it. She remembered something about having to do it backwards, with a stencil. It didn't matter if it wasn't available, though.

"This printer takes text input, and -- "

Later, that was the last thing that Sabine could clearly recall, about what exactly the printer did. She tried to pay attention, she really did; but she got bogged down in all the details. Noisy was enthusiastic, that was for sure. There was something about settings and contractions and reading levels -- she remembered being even more confused about that, wasn't it all the same for literate adults? -- and something about automatic spacing. It almost certainly did not mean pushing someone out the airlock, but she couldn't understand what was actually being talked about, so the image stuck with her.

  "I am unwilling to loan out the printer, but it may be used, under supervision."

She blinked. The flood of words was over now, apparently.

"...thanks," she said, and hoped that her inattention hadn't been noticed. "That just leaves the... primer, I think?"

"Yes, the primer." Noisy held up a binder. It opened to reveal sheets of that same thicker paper with the raised dots she could feel, and flimsi with both normal writing and dot writing printed on it. The sheets were held together by three metallic rings in the centre, and the pages turned freely. "Many different texts exist, for the purpose of instruction. The one I have was originally composed by my predecessor's predecessor."

On the base? No, she thought, that had to refer to the droid's "previous practice".

"It has been described as incredibly useful for learning the tactile alphabet, both by touch and by sight." Noisy handed it to her. "You may borrow it."

"Are you sure?" she said, feeling the weight in her arms; she could easily carry it, but it was hefty enough to be a viable weapon if needed. "If it's that useful, wouldn't you need to keep it, in case there's someone else who wants it?"

“The text is fully contained in my databanks and I am capable of printing out another copy if necessary. In addition, you are the first person to ask me about the tactile alphabet, in any form, ever since I left my former practice."

The droid seemed somewhat pleased. At least she was good for something. She set the binder down, placing the brochures inside it; she didn't want them to bend.

“May I just say, that it is good to have someone take an interest in the tactile alphabet. Many of my former clients had complained that there was very little available for them because, I quote second-hand, 'nobody else knew it', and every sighted person who learns to read in that manner makes the galaxy a more hospitable place."

Noisy paused. “Did I assume correctly that you are fully sighted? Have you been experiencing vision loss?”

No. She hadn’t even thought to consider -- what if she -- she couldn’t bear to think about that possibility. No.

“Please give me an eye exam,” she hurriedly said.

The droid made a pleased-sounding noise. “Excellent. Please sit down, and I will begin momentarily.”

She settled into the black examination chair, and tried to look relaxed. Noisy wouldn’t care, but she did. She didn’t need to worry yet. There had been no signs of problems. But Ezra -- was not her, and they weren’t genetically related in any sense more than both being human. She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting, and waited.

The droid wheeled back to her in probably less than a minute -- she couldn’t trust her sense of time -- with something attached to the arms. “When was your most recent eye examination?”

Good question. “A few years ago, but I’m not sure exactly,” she thought aloud. “Probably when I was still at the academy… it really hasn’t been a priority.”

There was an undeniable sound of disapproval. “A sentiment shared by too many, and not just those fighting in the Rebellion. Focus your gaze on the area beside my left optic, where a light is currently flashing as a guide, and try not to blink.”

She followed Noisy’s instructions without question or hesitation; without thought, when she could manage it. She kept her eyes open despite a painfully bright light, looked up or down or left or right, followed that one’s manipulator with her gaze, identified shapes and letters at various distances. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears all the while. What if. What if.

The droid gave her no feedback, only directions. Was that a good sign, that there was nothing she needed to hear, or a bad sign, waiting for proof before giving her the news?

“Your visual field and acuity is within the optimal range for humans, with no apparent signs of damage or disorder. If you notice any changes, please inform me immediately, but at the moment, rest assured that everything seems to be in good condition.”

Good. Good. Good! She didn’t know what she would have done if she'd been told that she was going blind too. Probably try to go out guns blazing before it got any worse, she thought; then immediately felt horrible. Kanan was not “better off dead”, and Ezra wouldn’t be either, so why would it even be a thing that she would half-consider to possibly be an option for anybody else --

“Are you otherwise well? You appear to be experiencing distress.”

She realized she was shaking. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her palms. “I’m just… relieved,” she managed. “Very relieved.”

The droid seemed to accept that at face value. “Regular appointments would serve to prevent any unpleasant surprises with regards to one’s health, visual or otherwise. Once a baseline has been established, any deviations from that can be investigated, monitored, and corrected if necessary and possible.”

Yeah, she was definitely doing that. She never wanted to go through that worry again. “Okay,” she said, “where do I sign up?”

A humming sound came from Noisy, but different than before, not from that one’s wheels. The lights below the optics began to blink rapidly, in a regular pattern. She realized it was probably the equivalent of an uncontrollable wide grin. “Excellent! Given your age and the lack of anything interesting on your test results, I would normally say to come back in a year; however, given your high-risk occupation and potential exposure to any number of harmful elements, I will instead recommend six months. Would you like me to send a reminder at that time?”

A lot could happen in six months. She didn’t know where she would be, or what she’d be dealing with, or if she’d be in any state of mind to remember. “Yeah, that’d be better.”

“Acknowledged. Records indicate that you are a member of the Ghost crew. Assuming you are still alive in six months, and have not suffered a major injury in the intervening time, I shall schedule an appointment for you at that time."

She felt vaguely uncomfortable at that phrasing, but shrugged it off. It wasn't like the droid was telling her anything she didn't already know; and she'd seen too many crews coming back with empty spaces, or not at all, to harbour any illusions of invulnerability. Even before Kanan.

The droid didn't notice her reactions. "It is gratifying to be able to fulfill my primary purpose. For so long I was relegated to mostly dealing with non-ocular trauma or preventable injuries, which any medical droid would be capable of. Now, I am being used again for my specialty, even multiple instances in short succession."

Once she untangled what the droid meant by that, Sabine realized she often felt the same. She was more than just an explosives or weapons expert, and she felt so much more her when she could do her art, and be useful in doing it. But, then, she remembered. The droid was happy to deal with eye injuries or conditions; and even her own exam was only because she had been worried.

Why did everything keep coming around to stuff she didn't want to think about?! But she had to think about it, at least somewhat, if she wanted to be able to do something.

Tactile alphabet: dealt with, for the moment. Her own visual health: hadn't been on the list, but she knew she was okay with it for now. She was okay, in that regard; were the others? Kanan... didn't really have anything left to lose, and Ezra was being dealt with; Chopper didn't have organic parts, and she more or less knew how to repair his optics anyways; that still left Hera and Zeb. Hera needed her eyes to pilot, and Sabine wasn't going to let Zeb be hurt in any way if she could help it.

"Is it okay if I can get some others to come in as well?" she said, trying to sound casual. She was already planning how she would convince, trick, drag, and/or bribe Zeb to attend an appointment. (Just because he was important to her, that didn't mean she'd let him do what he wanted. Especially if it was for his own good.)

"Please do! Regular examinations are vital for optic health, and catching any conditions early." Noisy paused. "Is that all?"

No. She remembered now; she'd had two reasons for coming there. One was complete. The other... she still had to do. It was a thing that maybe nobody else remembered about, but she did, and it meant something to her. This could be incredibly awkward, but it was her best possible option.

“No, there's one more thing,” she said, and made sure to not fiddle with her sleeve. “Are you okay with drawing blood? Like, and filling a vial with it? That I could have, and take with me?”

The optics weren't designed for giving a Stare, but she felt it anyways. “Yes, I have the knowledge and equipment to take blood samples. Why would you want me to, if not for running tests on it?”

Her mind blanked. She hadn't actually considered having to justify that request; which just went to show how distracted she was lately. She ran through all the excuses she'd used recently. "Ask Hera about it", her general go-to, wouldn't work there, and "It's your fault for not checking if it was explosive", the excuse she had most recently given, was completely the wrong context.

"It's a Mandalorian thing." Hopefully the droid would leave it at that....

She got the impression of a sniff. "Unlikely. Although I have not been programmed with a comprehensive knowledge of Mandalorian customs, your statement bears marked similarities to some very common excuses. Unless I am given a truthful and valid reason, I will refuse to carry out the procedure."

How was she going to -- what could she say that -- no, she had to stop and consider. There was no real reason not to tell Noisy what she had planned; it wasn't a surprise intended for the droid after all, and patient confidentiality was probably an important part of the programming. If she couldn't even say what she wanted to do, why would she think that she'd be able to actually do it?

She wasn't going to give up. She especially wouldn't be defeated by her own hesitancy and shame. She was better than that.

(Besides, she knew the type of people on the base, and there was absolutely zero chance that the droid had never been asked something by them for an even weirder reason. If she thought about it, she'd probably instigated some of them; Atollon could get boring very quickly, and when you brushed against death on a near-daily basis, it was easily to develop a skewed sense of what was dangerous or a bad idea.)

“It's….” She licked her lips and started again. “It's for a blood oath, okay, and if I can't get it here I'll have to get it some other way, and I don't want to freak out Ez-- I don't want to disturb people any more than would happen regardless.”

She crossed her arms. "I'm going to do it anyways," she said. "I need my blood for this. And the last time I...." It was impossible for unaltered humans to both facepalm in embarrassment, and cross arms in defiance, at the same time; her muscles twitched before she realized that. "The last time I tried," she forced out, "I didn't get enough blood on what I wanted, Ketsu thought I was trying to kill myself, and I couldn't grip anything with that hand for ages because it was too sore. It was all around a bad idea. Very bad idea. I thought it would be...."

She uncrossed her arms and looked directly at Noisy. She needed to present her request as reasonable. Which it was, after all. "I thought it would be better if an actual medical professional took the blood. That would avoid any potential issues of infection or unintended injury, and minimize the care needed."

The droid appeared to be considering her statement. "I acknowledge your points," Noisy said. "I do not approve, yet I will tentatively agree to assist. How much blood would you require, and when would you need it?”

"Enough to fill... I don't have anything exact, but roughly this much?" she said, and indicated the size of the container.

"That amount can be safely removed from a human of your body mass, with minimal-to-no ill effects from blood loss. It should be safe, barring unforeseen factors."

Was that it?

"Additionally, have you accounted for the storage and preservation requirements, and what is the immediacy?"

Of course it wasn't that simple. Nothing ever was.

She tried to figure out what the droid was asking. She hadn't yet answered when she needed it, so maybe that was...? "Why are you asking me?" she said, just to fill in space while thinking. "You’re the professional, what do you think?"

She wasn't able to pick out any motion or vocalization, but something about Noisy made her think of someone shrugging their shoulders.

"Normally any blood extraction would be carried out for very specific purposes, with defined quantities and duration of storage. I shall restate my inquiry. You do not appear to have understood. Firstly, do you intend to use the blood for your 'oath' as soon as it has been acquired and you are at the appropriate setting?"

No. She knew that without thinking, but hadn't even realized she knew it, had already made that decision. That would mean doing everything right away: finding witnesses, facing Ezra (she still hadn't seen him yet that day and she hated that she was glad of it), gathering symbolic objects, thinking about symbolic objects and what they meant and why she needed to make an oath anyways, verbally acknowledging that there was a problem something was wrong and she wasn't going to make fun of him in any art he couldn't see and it was going to be an issue because he wouldn't be able to see and no matter what she swore it wouldn't make a difference and why had she even --

"I will not be using it today," she calmly said. "It might be in a few days, or a few weeks. I do not know at the moment."

She didn't know anything. All the information she'd gone over with Zeb was just that, information, and she didn't know how to best apply it, or how to apply it at all.

"Given that," the droid continued, "are you able to store and prepare your sample until it is used?"

She had a brief but vivid mental image of Hera accidentally using it as a condiment, and was torn between wanting to laugh and gag. "Can I keep it here?" she asked. "Is that possible?"

"It is possible, as there is currently adequate storage available. The situation may yet change; if so, I would contact you so you can make arrangements for alternate storage."

"Okay then. Let's do this." That sounded horrible. But what else could she say?

"Acknowledged. Are you able to expose the inner aspect of your elbow in your current attire, or will you require some privacy to change clothing?"

"No, I can roll up my sleeve." It wasn't obvious, with her armour, but she could. "Which arm?"

Noisy moved away again, she assumed to gather supplies. "Either would suffice, unless you are aware of any injuries or implants in the region that would interfere."

"Nothing like that," she confirmed.

"I shall be there momentarily."

She had no idea what she was doing. She'd had blood taken before, she was familiar with the process; but just, life in general, at the moment. To start with, Mandalorian culture did not have a tradition of blood oaths, as far as she knew. It was just something she had heard about that seemed meaningful to her, so she'd come up with her own rituals, just as binding to her as anything legally recognized. She was making it up as she went along, so she didn't have anyone she could turn to, for answers.

She didn't know if it was a good idea. She was still going to do it eventually, she'd decided, but would it actually help Ezra feel better? Even the tactile alphabet, which she had been so sure about... would it do any good, or help in any way other than distracting her?

At least she knew Zeb was just as lost as she was. And well, if she'd waited until she knew what she was doing, she never would have escaped the academy, and somehow things had ended up eventually working out. (Although she could have done without almost dying, thank you very much.)

The droid came back. Both of her sleeves were already rolled up, as she vaguely remembered something about "dominant arm", but wasn't sure if that was the side that should or shouldn't get poked. She didn't have anything to say as she felt the chill of the sterilizing solution on the inside of her elbow, or the brief pain of a needle being inserted, or saw her red flow into the transparent vial.

It was over so quickly. Like most important moments, if she thought about it. And in a case of her mind jumping to the exact worst possible thing, she remembered that when Kanan was blinded, it had happened in less than a second, from what she heard. That had been red too, but from a blade, not blood.

But Kanan was... well, nobody she knew could be accurately described as "okay", they all had too many problems from both inside and outside, but mostly as okay as he had been. She hadn't been okay either, for a long time, but she had gotten back into a functional state. It had happened before, and it would happen again, with this.

She had to believe it.

She blankly stared at the vial of blood, and the droid, and the droid's manipulator holding the vial. The colours played before her eyes, white and red and black in her peripheral vision. They made a vivid statement together, but she couldn't tell what it was saying.

"--ntact when you require it, although doing so ahead of time would be preferable. There is no guarantee that I will be unoccupied at any given moment, as emergencies do not happen on a set schedule."

It wasn't that droids were hard to pay attention to. It was her. She couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. She knew the sensation. It was uncomfortably familiar.

"Thank you," she said after a pause that was probably too long. "That's all I had to do here."

She wasn't made for rooms with such blank walls. Nobody was; well, except Noisy (the droid probably was literally made for rooms like that), but certainly not Ezra. He shouldn't have had to get life-changing bad news at all, but it must have been even worse, being somewhere with nothing to look at when told he wouldn't be able to look at anything in a few years.

It was too late to change anything that had already happened. All she could do was try to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Eventually, one way or another, she needed to bring some colour into that room. Everyone needed colour.

But what if they couldn't see it?

She left with the binder in her arms, feeling no better than when she had arrived.

[terryblount]

One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 PC Review

It’s that time again folks! Put on your straw hats, check your log pose and join anime’s most endearing gang of pirates as they beat up more marines than you can physically count. After five years, Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have finally shifted the focus of the Warriors/musou series back to the One Piece anime, and the potency of this crossover is as clear as it has ever been.

Truth be told, One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 hardly strays from the classic musou design that the developers used in their recent titles, but it is clear Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have become really good at making these games. Even if the fourth incarnation of this Warriors sub-series doesn’t reinvent the wheel, the polished gameplay and obvious passion for the anime adds up to a very appealing new entry.

Gold D. Roger, the pirate who hid the One Piece. This review features screen shots only from the first part of the game to avoid spoilers.

Return to the Grand Line

As with previous Pirate Warrior games, Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have used the chronological events of the One Piece anime to guide the progression of their fourth game. The major fights within the single player campaign, named ‘Dramatic Log’, features six different story arcs (basically chapters) to play through beginning with the Alabasta Arc, and ending with the most recent Wano Country Arc.

This adds up to A LOT of One Piece episodes, but the devs used a strategic mix of nicely recreated cut scenes and story exposition to provide a crash course on the anime’s narrative, and it accompanies the gameplay nicely. Whether playing through the enormous siege on Alubarna, or the massive battle at Marine Fort, the game’s storytelling is effective in making the player feel immersed in these classic moments.

One of the first story arcs to play through. Each arc features around six missions.

There is just one unfortunate problem with the gameplay being driven so heavily by the anime’s narrative: Pirate Warriors 4 creates a minefield of spoilers. I can speak from experience here because I am just about reaching the middle of the Whole Cake Island Arc in the anime, only to feel my jaw drop at what I learnt in the Wano Country Arc (which follows) while playing the game. You have been warned.

All aboard the Going Merry

True to its name, Pirate Warriors 4 is every bit the unique style of spectacle fighter that Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have become famous for, and the combat really does its genre proud. This is not a game where enemies necessarily represent a danger, nor does this game know the meaning of the words ‘dodge’ or ‘block’.

Just look at all those enemies!

Instead, enemies are fodder for the player to show off their almost comically overpowered fighting moves as easily thousands of them can get mowed down within a single mission. The usual buffet of attacks, heavy attacks, special moves and charge attacks are yours for the picking, and the combos from joining these moves are easy to pull off, even for a cack-handed slowpoke like me.

Further bolstering your journey to becoming the flashiest fighter is also a skill tree (depicted as a nautical map with islands). Here the player can choose to spend in-game currency on everything from extra slots for super moves, to boosting the power of basic attacks. I could never figure out why you can choose between a general skill tree or a character-specific trees, but the option is there.

You have a separate map for each character… but I am not entirely sure why.

By the time I had built up the muscle memory for the particularly brutal combos, and my uhm… skill islands had filled up, I began to wonder if Pirate Warriors 4 wasn’t a bit too easy (even on ‘normal’ difficulty). For players looking for a more earnest challenge this might be true, but that would be missing the task.

Instead, satisfaction in Warriors games comes from becoming skilled in their combat system. This holds true for Pirate Warriors 4 as the game really encourages flowing seamlessly from one attack into the next, and rewards the player with watching hundreds of enemies fly at once. Playing this game is the digital definition of a power trip.

Many pieces

Aside from the show’s epic fights, another reason why One Piece transitions well into a Warriors game is due to the excellent (and remarkably quirky) cast of protagonists, antagonists, and everything in between. This is an area where Pirate Warriors 4 really excels because the roster of playable characters has been raised to a respectable 43 this time round.

The choice of characters in each mission is usually split between power, speed, technique, and airborne fighting styles, which basically hints at where they do the most damage. Take Roronora Zoro for example and his moves to keep even stronger enemies off the ground. Juggling a bunch of marines for a long time is an absolute breeze with him as you can make their health bar drain before they can even touch the ground to attack.

Luffy on the other hand is an enthusiastic combo linker with one mother of a stamina bar. When fighting in the air, he usually lets enemies drop before I could pull off a prolonged attack sequence. On the ground, however, I seamlessly strung one chain of combos to the next while using dash as a cancel attack. If the map had longer, straight sections, Luffy was invariably my first choice.

Luffy and the thousand fists

Unfortunately, I never made friends with the camera; it felt like I was constantly fighting to bring what I wanted to see onto the screen. This was particularly a problem when pulling off special moves since characters execute their attacksin the direction the camera is facing, and not necessarily towards the enemy in front of them. Not a huge problem per se, but enough to tinge the experience with frustration at times.

A nice new age of piracy

Given how slick Koei Tecmo and Omega Force have designed the gameplay and how committed Pirate Warriors 4 is to the One Piece IP, both seasoned musou fans and first-timers could enjoy this game. Veteran Warriors players would find their hard-earned skills rewarded, but this game is still a forgiving entry point into this lucrative sub-culture of gaming.

Gosh, to think this scene is going on for 18 years old.

That being said, the ideal player for Pirate Warriors 4 is undeniably an up to date One Piece fan. This is not just to avoid spoilers, but also due to how deeply saturated Pirate Warriors 4 is in the colourful and really weird world of its source material.

If that sounds like you, play this by any means possible since there are few genres that really gel with One Piece as much as Pirate Warriors games. If not, this game should at least be on your wishlist if you need time to catch up on some episodes because it is a lovely culmination of everything great about musou games.

Re-imagined old story archs

Responsive controls

Lots of replay value

Real voice cast

Many playable characters

Some awkward cut scenes

Not the best graphics

Clumsy camera

          PC Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM – Played using an Xbox One Contoller

The post One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 PC Review appeared first on DSOGaming.

One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 PC Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

[andersonsturgeon-blog]

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That is actually how our company impact and also make the arena around our company a much better place. They will definitely make us happy for a brief or not therefore quick period of time, yet ultimately you will get back to your initial condition. I implied a man who is actually name is PREDICTOR AHMED he is actually highly effective and can assist designate spells to restore one's gone, dropped, misbehaving enthusiast and also magic funds incantation or incantation for an excellent work or even fortune spellI'm now happy & a residing statement cos the man i had actually would like to marry left me 3 weeks before our wedding celebration and also my lifestyle was upside down since our connection has been on for 3years. You're the reason I have not shed my mind currently, you create me satisfied and you were actually CONSTANTLY there certainly for me pass on. 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Thats the trouble people matured having reasonably effortless lifestyles in a very first globe nation possess no idea what real challenges are actually. and afterwards grumble they typically aren't satisfied its own unfortunate and funny that thats exactly what this globe has related to. A task management qualification will let employers know that you are serious about your self-control which you have actually finished the instruction necessary to make you a qualified and also useful expert. If you determine very seriously and afterwards react and don't give up, you will certainly manage to come to be a productive remain at property mommy that certainly not merely delights in being actually along with her household and little ones - and also of course her little ones appreciate her visibility in the home - however could clear up quantity of funds. Imagine walking right into your following loved ones homecoming sensation delighted concerning being there and recognizing that you'll leave behind emotion pleased regarding your whole take in. The next time you discover an anti-romantic looking for enchanting ideas, share these charming love quotes along with all of them and verify that love deserves pursuing!

[lyndakiwi]

A Bad Year (Part two)

It was dawn when we drove in & it was sunset when we drove home, for once we both sat in silence. I cant remember much about the rest of that day, all I know is that we both resolved to fight with whatever resources we had. We weren't going to let this thing beat us, Jill & I had faced adversity many times over the years & many times, together, we had won through, this was just another challenge that we had to face.

The support machinery kicked in pretty much straight away as by that stage Jill had been seeing a local GP, Julia Racle & she was very much on the ball with things. We were contacted by the Cancer Society & arrangements were made for Jill to see the Professor of Oncology at Christchurch Hospital. About 2 days after surgery Julia came around to see how things were & she took me to one side & said, "what about your family up north?" I replied that naturally I had been in touch with them & they all knew. What she said next rather shocked me, "OK, look Neil, if I were you, I would book 2 tickets today & fly up there as soon as you can", I didn't really know what to think but I said "do you think its that urgent?, surely not", she replied "I've spent time in palliative care in the UK & seen this once before, I would go now". So that was that, I booked flights & we were on a plane two days later.

We arrived in Whangarei the Wednesday I think, & on Saturday it was open home at our unit. A number of people stopped by including my granddaughter Sarah Lee who had flown up especially to see Jill. My brother & his wife also called in & it was rather unfortunate that all my sister in law could talk about was a bloody cruise that they were planning to go on next year!. As usual Jill sat there & smiled.

We left the next day & as we sat down on the small aircraft out of Onerahi all she said was that she wanted to get home, even then there seemed to be a sense of urgency. We got back to Christchurch that afternoon & drove home, Jill was very tired & went to lay down. We had an appointment at the Hospital later that week & after a pretty thorough examination the Professor of Oncology informed us that cancer in the Gall bladder is extremely serious & unfortunately in her case, terminal....we both knew this already of course. Anyway the previous & now somewhat optimistic opinion of the operating surgeon, Richard Perry of 18 months was now cut back to 10-15 months by the Professor.

I know that you may not believe me when I say this, but it was all 'pie in the sky' stuff to me, I just couldn't get my head around it & I kept thinking that at any moment I was going to wake up & it would all have been a bad dream. I wish.

Jill was offered chemotherapy & a few days later we were shown the facility where all this takes place. Everyone in there was upbeat & cheerful, it was very humbling & I now look back & know that most, if not all of those brave people will have passed on. The upshot was that Jill refused to have it, she had asked some questions & decided that she wanted quality over quantity of life, ....it was a very courageous call to make.

My Whangarei accountant's wife had also died of a similar sort of cancer 12 months previously & he put us in touch with a Wellington based surgeon who he said had worked miracles & could possibly help, so I got in touch & we made an appointment to see him, as luck would have it, he was due to be in Christchurch the following week.

We went along, latest scans in hand to see what he could do for us. I remember now the difficulty Jill had in climbing up the damn stairs to his rooms, there was no lift. We were shown in & he looked at the scans carefully, "well" he said, "it isn't looking terribly good & judging by the size of the shadow here" pointing, "I would say things are pretty advanced & to be honest with you there's not much that I can do for you Mrs Whitehead". In fact he added that he rather suspected that the cancer had gone into her liver & had probably entered her lungs as well.  That was that.  He gave my Jill about 6 months to live....maybe less.

My complete & utter denial as to what was happening was best illustrated in a conversation that I had one day with Jill's GP Julia. I told her that the specialist from Wellington had given Jill 6 months, Julia looked straight at me & said "Neil, I wont give her 6 weeks, if there is anything that you need to say or talk about with her, I suggest you do it now!". I replied that one thing Jill & I had done for over 30 years was to talk & we had said everything we needed to up to that point in our lives, how pompous & stupid can you get?.

We were half way through September, Jill's birthday was on the 25th & that Sunday all her family came over for a combined birthday lunch as it was Jill's Mum's birthday on the 22nd. We had a cake, Jill & her Mum did their best to blow out the candles...there were quite a few. I took a photo, it was the last I ever took of her.

That night Jill started to feel very unwell & started coughing a lot, I was up most of the night trying to do my best for her. I called the doctor in the morning & she came over very quickly & asked Jill if she would be better at Nurse Maude's Hospice, to my surprise she said yes she would. I say surprised because even at this point I refused to admit what was happening. I drove her in later that day, they were expecting her. She had a nice room & I stayed for a while before going home to make some phone calls. Jill's youngest daughter Renee decided to fly down with her daughter Tayla who was only a toddler & she arrived a day or so later. Renee's visit was all to short as she needed to get back to Whangarei to attend to things there & help out with her husbands business. I remember that Jill wanted to see her off at the airport so the Hospice lent us a wheel chair & I pushed Jill into the terminal, as I looked down on her head I could see that her skin was a pale yellow colour & she had decided to wear sunglasses as the whites of her eyes were yellow, she said that she didn't want to scar anybody.

We saw Renee & Tayla off on the plane back to Auckland & I drove Jill back to Nurse Maude's, I think it was a Wednesday as Jill's eldest daughter Dulcie's & her husband Roger were due to fly in on Saturday. The next day Thursday she was sent home, but things were not right & she wished that she could have stayed where she was. It was an indication of just how ill Jill felt & it was at that point that reality started to bite.

Our time left together was now measured in days & hours. Julia Racle was right all along.

Next, the last day together.

[terryblount]

One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 PC Review

It’s that time again folks! Put on your straw hats, check your log pose and join anime’s most endearing gang of pirates as they beat up more marines than you can physically count. After five years, Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have finally shifted the focus of the Warriors/musou series back to the One Piece anime, and the potency of this crossover is as clear as it has ever been.

Truth be told, One Piece Pirate Warriors 4 hardly strays from the classic musou design that developers used in their recent titles, but it is clear Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have become really good at making these games. Even if the fourth incarnation of this Warriors sub-series doesn’t reinvent the wheel, the polished gameplay and obvious passion for the anime adds up to a very appealing new entry.

Gold D. Roger, the pirate who hid the One Piece. This review features screen shots only from the first part of the game to avoid spoilers.

Return to the Grand Line

As with previous Pirate Warrior games, Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have used the chronological events of the One Piece anime to guide the progression of their fourth game. The major fights within the single player campaign, named ‘Dramatic Log’, features six different story arcs to play through beginning with the Alabasta Arc, and ending with the most recent Wano Country Arc.

This adds up to A LOT of One Piece episodes, but the devs used a strategic mix of nicely recreated cut scenes and story exposition to provide something like a crash course on the anime’s narrative. Whether playing through the enormous siege on Alubarna, or the massive battle at Marine Fort, the game’s storytelling succeeds in making the player feel immersed in these moments.

One of the first story arcs to play through. Each arc features around six missions.

There is just one unfortunate problem with the gameplay being driven so heavily by the anime’s narrative: Pirate Warriors 4 creates a minefield of spoilers. I can speak from experience here because I am just about reaching the middle of the Whole Cake Island Arc in the anime, only to feel my jaw drop at what I learnt in the Wano Country Arc (which follows) while playing the game. You have been warned.

All aboard the Going Merry

True to its name, Pirate Warriors 4 is every bit the unique flavour of spectacle fighter that Omega Force and Koei Tecmo have become famous for, and the combat really does its genre proud. This is not a game where enemies necessarily represent a danger, nor does this game know the meaning of the words ‘dodge’ or ‘block’.

Just look at all those enemies!

In short, enemies are just fodder for the player to show off their almost comically overpowered fighting moves as thousands of them can get mowed down within a single mission. The usual buffet of attacks, heavy attacks, special moves and charge attacks are yours for the picking, and the combos from joining these movies are easy to pull off, even for a cack-handed slowpoke like me.

Further bolstering your journey to becoming the flashiest fighter is also a skill tree (depicted as a nautical map with islands). Here the player can choose to spend in-game currency on everything from extra slots for super moves, to boosting the power of basic attacks. I could never figure out why you can choose between a general skill tree or a character-specific trees, but the option is there.

You have a separate map for each character… but I am not entirely sure why.

By the time I had built up the muscle memory for the particularly brutal combos, and my uhm… skill islands had filled up, I began to wonder if Pirate Warriors 4 wasn’t a bit too easy (even on ‘normal’ difficulty). For players looking for a more earnest challenge this might be true, but that would be missing the task.

Instead, Warriors games have always been set apart by becoming skilled in their combat system. This holds true for Pirate Warriors 4 as the game really encourages flowing seamlessly from one attack into the next, and rewards the player with watching hundreds of enemies fly. Playing this game is the digital definition of a power trip.

Many pieces

Aside from the show’s epic fights, another reason why One Piece transitions well into a Warriors game is due to the excellent (and remarkably quirky) cast of protagonists, enemies, and everything in between. This is an area where Pirate Warriors 4 really excels because the roster of playable characters has been raised to a respectable 43 for this game.

The choice of characters in each mission is usually split between power, speed, technique, and airborne fighting styles, which basically hints at where they do the most damage. Take Roronora Zoro for example and his moves to keep even stronger enemies off the ground. Juggling a bunch of marines for a long time is an absolute breeze with him, making their health bar drain before they can even touch the ground to attack.

Luffy on the other hand is an enthusiastic combo linker with one mother of a stamina bar. When fighting in the air, he usually lets enemies drop before I could pull off a prolonged attack sequence. On the ground, however, I seamlessly strung one chain of combos to the next while using dash as a cancel attack. If the map had longer, straight sections, Luffy was invariably my first choice.

Luffy and the thousand fists

Unfortunately, I never made friends with the camera; it felt like I was constantly fighting to bring what I wanted to see onto the screen. This was particularly a problem when pulling off special moves since characters execute their attacksin the direction the camera is facing, and not necessarily towards the enemy in front of them. Not a huge problem per se, but enough to tinge the experience with frustration at times.

A nice new age of piracy

Given how slick Koei Tecmo and Omega Force have designed the gameplay and how committed Pirate Warriors 4 is to the One Piece IP, both seasoned musou fans and first-timers could enjoy this game. Veteran Warriors players would find their hard-earned skills rewarded, but this game is still a forgiving entry point into this lucrative sub-culture of gaming.

Gosh, to think this scene is going on for 18 years old.

After that being said, the ideal player for Pirate Warriors 4 is undeniably a still an up to date One Piece fan. This is not just to avoid spoilers, but also due to how deeply saturated Pirate Warriors 4 is in the colourful and really weird world of its source material.

If that sounds like you, play this by any means possible since there are few games that really gel with One Piece as much as Pirate Warriors games. This is a lovely culmination of everything great about musou games, and should be, at least, on your wishlist if you need to catch up a bit on episodes.

Re-imagined old story archs

Responsive controls

Lots of replay value

Real voice cast

Many playable characters

Some awkward cut scenes

Not the best graphics

Clumsy camera

          PC Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM – Played using an Xbox One Contoller

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