#anyway purge day is going well for the things in my room//

[prerodinu]

Cleaning is like starting fresh and rearranging my life and ya know, I am loving it.

[themoonking]

breaking / preventing bad booktok habits

no one asked my opinion, but i've been thinking about this a lot so i'm going to give it anyway.

consumerism on booktube is a tale as old as time, and it's just as bad if not worse on booktok (due to the norm on tikok being to post something new at least once a day), and that leads a lot of book influencers (both on youtube and tiktok, and even instagram to an extent) into some really bad spending and consumption habits

this is my very long opinion piece on some tips and changes to make if you've already developed these bad habits or feel like you're about to.

tldr: stop buying in to hype and by more mindful about what you buy, and REMEMBER THAT LIBRARIES EXIST.

go to the library

quite simple. allows you to read as many books as you want without spending money or cluttering your home. and if you argue back that your local library is small / doesn't have a large selection, that's all the more reason to support it!! it won't grow or improve if it doesn't have people behind it.

getting rid of books

don't feel like you have to get rid of books even if you enjoyed them. i myself have larger book collection than most people i know. but you do have to make peace with the idea of getting rid of books from time to time. stop treating it like the worst thing that ever happened to you.

next time your bookshelf is full, don't immediately jump to buying a new shelf. instead, go through your entire collection and see what you really want to keep. do the marie kondo thing and take everything off the shelf so you can go through each book one by one. go over it multiple times over a couple of days, so you can come at it with fresh eyes.

when you look at each individual book, really think about it. ask yourself: did i even like this book? if i did, will i ever reread it? was it important to me or was it just a book i enjoyed and will never think about again? if i can't remember my feelings on a book, am i willing to reread it to find out?

if you have books that you were neutral on, that you liked but not in any notable way, or that you straight up didn't enjoy, it might be time to move on from them. donate to your local library: if you didn't enjoy them, there might be someone out there who might, and if you did enjoy them, they're right there if you ever have the urge to read them again.

don't think about book purges as tearing apart your perfect collection, but instead think about it as making room for something new that you enjoy and appreciate a lot more.

if you've gone over your collection multiple times and you still have no room, then feel free to buy a new shelf and expand your collection. obviously, as you read more books you'll find more that meant a lot to you that you want to keep. again, it's not about mimimalism, it's about mindfulness.

unread books

some book influencers (and their fans) have a MASSIVE problem with unread books. as in, they have 100+ on their shelves and they keep buying more to add to the pile. if you have books in your collection that have remained unread for years... it might be time to get rid of some of them. sorry.

do the same thing with the unread books as you did with the read books: go over them one by one and really think about why you're keeping them.

how long have you had it? if you've had a book for 5+ years, and you haven't felt the urge to read it yet, do you really think you're ever going to? read the description: does it seem like something that actually interests you, or did you buy it on a whim? perhaps it interested you when you bought it, but time has passed and tastes change; does it interest you now?

if you haven't touched or even thought about a book in multiple years but you can't bring yourself to get rid of it because "well maybe someday i'll need it!!" consider how dangerously close to hoarder mentality you're getting.

if you're really convinced that you'll enjoy a certain book, set it aside. make the books you set aside your priority for the next 6 months / the next year and don't buy anymore in that timeframe. if by the end of that time you haven't read the books you set aside, it's time to accept that you are simply never going to read them, and its better that they get some use rather than collect dust.

once again: donate any you get rid of to the library. if you're worried that you're going to suddenly want to read them (even though you haven't for years) and won't have them anymore, remember that if you give them to library they will be right there for you to borrow whenever you like. except that, in the time between you donating them and reading them, they won't have simply been sitting on your shelf gathering dust. instead, other people will have gotten the chance to read them and perhaps enjoyed them more than you ever would.

buying books

quite simply, just be more mindful about the books you buy.

when a new book becomes trendy on booktok or booktube, don't buy it right away. a lot of book influencers' unread books tend to be ones that they bought because they were really popular online, but that they lost interest in when the trend died out. if you're worried about missing out, remember that the book will still be available when the trend dies, and if you're only interested in something so you can partake in the trend... you're not really interesting in the book. you're interested in the clout.

when a book trend catches your eye, takes some time to think about it instead. first of all, does the book actually seem like something you're interested in? yes, everyone on booktok is talking about this new historical romance, but do you even like historical romance? this new epic fantasy is filling your youtube recommendations, but do you even like epic fantasy? look at reviews. look at reviews from people you know have similar tastes to you. did they like it? were the things they liked about it things that you enjoy?

if after thinking it through you're still engaged, go ahead and buy it! once again, its not about mimimalism. it's not about having less books. it's about mindfulness.

if you're subscribed to a book subscription box (or, god forbid, multiple book subscription boxes) maybe take stock and see if you actually want to remain subscribed. in the past 12 months, how many books from them have you read, and how many have you actually enjoyed? in my opinion, unless you've read an enjoyed the majority of books you've recieved in the past year, it might be time to unsubscribe. also always know that if a particular month's selection really interests you, you can simply buy the non-subscription version of the book without paying for all the ones that don't interest you.

like many book lovers, i enjoy wandering aimlessly around the bookstore even if i don't get anything, but if impulse buying books is an issue for you don't go to bookstores for fun. stay away from book-specific online stores. if you're spending issue is really bad, it might be time to block book-related social media tags (aka abandon booktok).

if you have an issue with your unread books getting out of control, set aside a physical space for your physical to-be-read and always ensure that your unread books can fit inside that space. if it starts to overflow, thats your sign that you need to ban yourself from buying books and focus on the books you already have (and then actually stick to that!!).

i personally have a three-tiered utility cart that i use (they're really common, you can find them a lot of places, but mine is specifically from ikea). it has a little wooden table lid that goes on the top tier that prevents me from storing anything in that layer. my unread books go in the bottom two tiers. if they get to the point that, to store them all, i have to remove the lid and start putting them on the top tier, i know that i need to slow down in my book buying and stay away from the book store. if, after that, it gets to the point where the entire top tier is full, then i know that it's time for a full book-buying ban until they're all read.

other methods i've seen people use: keep a separate, much smaller bookshelf in another part of the house. keep them in stacks but use a ruler to measure how tall the stacks get, and go on a ban if they get above a certain height. limit unread books to how many can comfortably fit on the bedside table. etc.

in general, it's best to NOT store unread books on the shelf with your other books. if they're on your shelf next to all your read books, you may not really be able to comprehend how many unread books you have, which can lead to the number getting out of hand.

and if you're buying books less for the pleasure of reading them and more for the pleasure of buying them (aka you genuinely not as a joke say "buying books and reading books are two different hobbies")... babygirl you have a shopping addiction </3

special editions

a lot of book influencers have a lot of special editions of books, but rarely have they read all of them. a lot of people really like collecting special editions, which is why my advice to unsubscribe from book boxes might, perhaps, be difficult.

however, many people who own a lot of these special editions don't really care about what's inside the book. rather, they care about the clout that comes with having a lot of special editions. even if they aren't an influencer, if you consume a lot of book content, you might get a feeling of superiority knowing that you have this type of collection that your favorite creators have.

essentially, when you go through your special editions, treat them the same as your other books from earlier but also ask yourself:

(1) is there anything actually special about this special edition? some special editions have exclusive bonus content such as cut chapters, interviews with the author, special art on the inside, et cetera; is this one of those or is it just the trade version with a recolored cover?

(2) if i have multiple different special editions of the same book, is there anything to actually distinguish them? do they have different exclusive bonus conent? different exclusive covers made by different talented artists? or are they essentially the same, except this cover is a slightly different shade of red, and this one has gold foiling in a slightly different spot?

(3) assuming i've read it, did this book actually mean something to me? do i care enough about this book to want a special copy of it? if i thought it was just okay, or even disliked it, wouldn't it be better off in the hands of someone who has it down as one of their favorite books of all time?

if you're going over your book box subscriptions and you say that you wouldn't be interesting in reading a certain book if you don't get your hands on the special edition, remeber that your experience of reading will be exactly the same if you have the exclusive special edition hardback or the standard trade paperback. it's like the tiktok trend; if you're only interested in this book if you have a special edition, you're not really interested in the book. you're interested in the clout.

essentially, the base thing you have to consider is: do you want this rare, expensive copy because the book actually means something to you, or because you want the online social status that comes from having a rare, expensive copy?

conclusion

once again, the main point is: be more mindful about the books you buy.

actually think about if you're interested in reading something instead of buying books you'll never read on a whim. think about whether your buying something for yourself or for clout.

and remember that libraries exist!! donate books to your library, donate funds to your library, borrow books from your library, etc. if you like audiobooks or ebooks, download whatever app your library uses. if your library doesn't have a book that you'd like to read, put in a request and they might purchase. participate in your library's events and activities. get involved in your library. show your local library the love it deserves!!!

bye. if you have another tip about breaking or preventing bad book habits, feel free to reblog w/ your tip.

[tabl3]

beginning of a oneshot i'm writing

Oliver let out a blood-curdling shriek. 

The projectile was zipping at his head, at least eighty miles per hour. 

He ducked to avoid it, feeling it sail so close that it grazed his scalp.

“Chase, look out!” Kaz shouted. 

Chase had just entered from the rooftop door, flipping through a book. He snapped up as the volleyball came flying toward him.

It screeched to a halt a centimeter from the tip of his nose, floating there.

Chase nodded to his left, making it shoot back over the net and land on the girls’ side before even Bree could stop it.

“HAH!” Kaz pointed two fingers at Bree and Skylar. “Point!”

“Your first,” Skylar teased, catching the ball when Bree, miffed, tossed it to her. It was a sunny afternoon, bordering on too warm, but with a nice breeze to cut through the heat. Four of the five Elite Force members had decided to go up on the roof, set up the volleyball set that Bree had purchased from a sketchy website a few months ago, and waste the day. Due to their packaged deal philosophy, Kaz and Oliver had chosen each other as a team. What fools they had been. Bree was a devil. A beast. A monster. Evil. Skylar wasn’t much better. The boys were up to forty-nine misses in the half-hour they’d been up there.

Chase rolled his eyes fondly. “Have you guys eaten lately?”

Four nods. 

“Okay, good,” he waved his hand, bringing a package of water bottles from the alcove. One was thrown to each person. The girls caught theirs. Oliver again ducked under his. Kaz’s smacked him in the face. “Oliver, Kaz, watch the temperature. Don’t overheat.”

“Yes, Mom,” they echoed.

“Bree, Skylar, go a little,” he pinched his fingers together. “Easy on them.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chase put his hands on his hips. “Don’t come crying to me when you get too tired to celebrate tonight.”

“What are we celebrating again?” Skylar asked, resting her elbow on her girlfriend’s head.

“Only one of the best holidays ever!” Kaz exclaimed, springing to his feet.

“Yeah!” Oliver backed him up. “Watermelon, fireworks, random cold salads, barbecues!”

“I make some bomb ass bbq, girl,” Kaz bragged, puffing out his chest. He’d already spent the previous evening making far too many sides for five people, which of course caused the kitchen to explode. It took Chase and Oliver hours to clean, because Bree was conveniently gone and Kaz dragged Skylar into their room for whatever reason. No one knew why he did anything, generally speaking.

“It’s the way neither of them answered my question,” Skylar deadpanned with a snort. 

“Yeah, they do that,” Chase observed. He folded his arms, lightly smiling. “It’s the Fourth of July.”

“And?” Skylar blinked.

“Big party. Celebrating the country,” Chase toed a loose piece of gravel. “Frankly, I never understood why.”

Kaz gasped as though Chase just admitted he was cheating on him, slapping a hand to his chest. 

“Hot dogs! Ice cream! Sparklers!” he listed, dramatically counting on his fingers. Chase snorted, shoving his face away.

“Fireflies! Picnic blankets!” Oliver chimed in. “Sparklers! Watermelon!”

“You already said that, buddy.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yep.”

“Well, it deserves it.”

“True.”

“Anyway,” Bree cleared her throat. “We don’t really have to celebrate it.”

Kaz gasped again, as though she had just admitted that Chase was cheating on him. 

“You don’t have to do that every time.”

“Guys!” he threw his hands up. “It’s literally the most nostalgic thing ever! Do you have no shame?”

“I guess fireworks looked nice from the TV in our basement lab,” Bree said sarcastically.

“Around Earth’s summer we had a gladiator tournament to purge the weak from our forces on Caldera,” Skylar offered.

Silence. A bird squawked.

“Jeez,” Kaz smacked his lips. “I forget how fucked your childhoods were.”

“Whatever the case, I need to get back to work,” Chase turned with a wave. “Have fun.”

“NOOOOO!” 

He was halted.

“...What the hell?”

“Babe, you gotta rescue us!” Kaz cried, holding onto his ankle and laying on the roof like a kid being dragged out of a toy store. “We’re getting smoked!”

“Pleaseee!” Oliver begged, gripping his other. “We need you.”

Chase stared at them incredulously.

Skylar and Bree covered their mouths to hide their giggles.

“How old are you two again?”

“69,” Kaz replied before Chase finished the last syllable. 

“It’s funny every time.”

“Thanks.”

[mylivejournalsucks]

new york please oh god new york

i came to new york because jonathan's musical is premiering and also because i had a workshop for my play that i wrote sort of on accident after having a zoom general with a producer who asked me if i'd ever been interested in writing something for the theater. i wasn't but i said yes anyway to follow the green lights and now two years later, it's my favorite thing i've ever written and if i don't start performing it tomorrow, i feel like i might die.

LA has been making me feel inert for the past two years and when i go to new york i feel like my life finally has texture. allow my contribution to the LA versus new york discourse be this: in LA every new person i meet feels mentally ill in the same uninteresting way and in New York everyone feels mentally ill in an exciting way.

jonathan has been working, working, working while i've been here and so i walk 20,000 steps a day and listen to shoegaze and work very intensely in three hour bursts and see people for dinner who don't ask me what i'm working on. i feel anonymous and seen if that makes sense. (it probably doesn't.)

the last two days was my play workshop. i sat in a nearly windowless room in midtown with a few other talented people and we started to take whacks at this thing i wrote in bed while my industry greenlit monopoly: the movie. everyone made it better in ways i could've never imagined, which is the hope for collaboration—that someone sees something you can't and wants to extract the thing that makes it sparkle. what a gift. what generosity. the reading went well and the producers took us to dinner and no one said "make it less gay or disabled." they understood it. they wanted even more sparkle.

i walked back downtown listening to "always" by yeah yeah yeahs and met jonathan and our friends for drinks after his show. his musical big gay jamboree, which is open now, is truly spectacular. i'm not going to say i'm biased because i fucking hate musicals and i love this. jonathan's books are so impressive to me but i'm always shocked they come from his brain. they don't feel like him or, at least, not the parts I engage with. they feel like an exorcism. an emotional purge of all the dark thoughts he has banging around that i don't always get to meet. this musical, on the other hand, is a joy-bomb and feels like the brightest, funniest parts of jonathan—the parts I do see every single day. i hope it runs forever because, hi, money but also, selfishly, so that if i'm ever in new york alone, i can go to his show and feel like i spent an evening with him.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Meant to Happen - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Warnings: Mostly just fluff, brief mention of drug use, Santiago is kind of an asshole (sorry, Santi, I love you), mentions of mental illness, nothing too crazy on this one friends Word Count: 2k Prompt #68: A tender kiss on your lover's chest a/n: My schedule has been nothing short of pure insanity, and my brain is doing that thing tonight where I’m convinced I’m not good for anything, so here’s a Drabble I’ve had in edits for ages about Frankie feeling kind of the same way. Mostly it’s just exposition with a tiny bit of fluff but sometimes the brain writes what it wants to write.

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

It was never really meant to happen. 

Frankie had been Santi’s best friend since their days in special ops, but you’d been friends with him even longer. As kids, you and Santi had raced around the block on your bikes, and as teenagers he’d taken you to every dance with the very clear stipulation that you were not dating. Not that you thought you were; things had never been like that with him, and up until several months ago, they hadn’t been that way with Frankie either. 

When Santiago returned from service, a whole handful of new friends came along with him, and you fit into their little group with ease. You knew they’d seen some shit, every one of them, but it was Santiago’s behavior upon their return that was the hardest to ignore. It was clear that where Benny found his focus in the ring and Frankie found his in little white lines on the kitchen table, Santiago liked to drown out his demons by focusing all his energy on one particular task. 

Finding you a date. 

It was all in good fun, although you’d punched him more than a few times after he’d texted you about meeting up only to never show, leaving you alone with some sleazeball he’d met at the gym. He’d introduce you to every eligible single at parties like you were on an episode of the Bachelorette, and he’d purposefully make sure that there weren’t enough seats in the living room at game night whenever he brought someone new for you to meet. You always sat in Benny’s lap instead, just to spite him. 

He had your best interests at heart, you knew that, so it didn’t bother you too much when it became an ongoing joke, one that was only encouraged by Will and Benny, who were quick to point out that they were single too. Tom usually took your side, coming to your defense when you reminded them that you weren’t really looking for anything. And Frankie…well, Frankie was usually quiet. He’d watch from the sidelines as Santi went on about how you’d never want to date the likes of them anyway. 

But then they left. All five of them, heading to South America for a mission that they didn’t want to talk about. You knew Santi was behind it, and that the others weren’t keen on going, but it was apparent that everything changed while they were gone. 

You only knew what happened in general terms - hard not to when Tom didn’t come home - but no one would tell you the full story. Santiago ignored your texts, and then he left for months without telling you where he was headed. Will and Benny came around to check on you, kept up with weekly get-togethers, but deflected whenever you asked how they were doing. 

Frankie was the only one to confide in you. You weren’t quite sure how the conversation started, but you do remember the way he let you pull him into your arms and the way he cried against your chest. His nose had been tucked into your neck, tears wetting the collar of the old t-shirt you wore that night as he finally purged the emotion pent up inside him. 

Later, when you settled him in your bed, you held him as he slept the whole night through, for what you suspected was the first time in months. It was like a switch flipped, and while you’d spent years telling yourself that Santiago was right, that Frankie wasn’t your type, you had to admit that it was much harder to deny your feelings once he was laying in your arms. 

What followed was a hurricane of secrets and stolen moments. You suspected that Benny figured it out after a couple of weeks, when you’d chosen Frankie’s lap over his at game night. Santiago hadn’t been there, still off in God knows where, and you’d naturally gravitated toward the man you tiptoed on calling your boyfriend. But if he did notice, Benny said nothing. Neither did Will. 

Frankie had practically moved in within the span of a few weeks, and you relished in the little life you were building together. Mornings filled with blueberry pancakes and quick kisses on the way out the door. Afternoon rendezvous in the cab of his truck that left you both on the brink of quitting your jobs, just so you could stay a bit longer. Evenings spent together, lounging on the couch as you introduce each other to your favorite shows and movies. All leading to late nights that felt too easy, even amongst the horrors you both struggled to cope with.

His struck often, and you had your own too, things from your past that you shared with him in the comfortable darkness of night, blankets wrapped tightly around you both. And as one night turned into another, and then into weeks, followed by months, you wound yourself tighter around each other until you were nearly inseparable. 

And then Santiago returned. 

For all the guilt and shame that weighed on the shoulders of Will, Benny, and Frankie, you were certain that Santiago felt it all and then some, but he acted as though the past eight months hadn’t happened. But you knew him, and you knew that the dark circles under his eyes, overgrown hair, and half-hazardly trimmed beard were all signs that he was still struggling to deal with the loss of one of his best friends. The rest of your boys had each other, had you, but he’d been dealing with it all on his own.

And you just had to go and make everything that much harder.

It took Santi all of five minutes to figure out what was going on. You thought you’d been subtle with your stolen glances, waiting for the right time to tell him, but he’d picked up on the way you easily maneuvered around one another in the kitchen, as though you’d done it hundreds of times. And he’d been right - you had. 

You’d discussed on occasion how you thought Santiago would react, and while Frankie had been hesitant, you’d been steadfast in your opinion that your friend would be happy for you both. Happy that Frankie was showing you exactly what it means to be loved, and happy for him that you were quieting his nightmares - the ones that came in the dead of night and the ones that haunted his waking hours too.

But as it turns out, Frankie was right to be skeptical.

Whatever insecurities Santiago was facing, they came out disguised as warnings about Frankie. Mostly things you knew already, about his drug use and the loss of his pilot’s license, failed relationships and Frankie’s lack of a secure financial situation. For every rebuttal, he had another argument lined up, and at some point, you’d stepped in between him and Frankie, certain that even if he lashed out at his friend, he’d never take a swing at you. 

But that didn’t stop your knuckle from making film contact with his jaw the second he told you that Frankie would never amount to anything. Frankie was pulling you back immediately, arms secure around your waist as Will pulled Santiago outside and forced him into his truck to drive him home. Benny quietly made his way to the kitchen to clean up so you wouldn’t have to, and Frankie followed him after encouraging you to retreat to your bedroom.

You’re wearing a hole in the floor when Frankie joins you a few minutes later. Your hand hurts, but anger is still coursing through your veins, so you barely feel it. In fact, you’re barely paying attention as your boyfriend slips through the door, slowly closing it behind him.

“I can’t believe him,” you shout as you pace away from Frankie, your feet carrying you toward the bed and then back toward the door. “Some best friend he is if he can’t even be happy for us.” You continue your routine. “He’s one to talk, after all, disappearing from the face of the Earth, leaving us all here without a clue as to where he is, or if he’s even alive, only to come back and pretend that he knows what’s best for us.” 

When you turn back toward Frankie again, you realize that he’s still standing at the door, his forehead resting against the wood, and your anger is quickly replaced with concern. 

“Hey, you okay?” you ask, the gentle whisper of your voice a stark contrast to just moments before. He flinches lightly when your hand runs up his back, and you instinctively pull away. “Frankie?” 

When he turns, you know he’s the furthest thing from okay. His eyes, which you now know to be so full of life and love, look cold and distant. He’s frowning, the creases in his skin more apparent than usual, and you itch to smooth them with your fingers. He reaches for you this time, and suddenly you’re in his arms, his body melting into your embrace. 

“I’m worried about him.” 

His voice seems small when he speaks, but you know that the depth of his emotion is anything but. Your brow furrows and you sigh, running a hand down his arm to tangle your fingers with his, pulling him toward the bed. Frankie follows without protest, allowing you to settle him between your legs so his body rests on top of yours, head tucked into your neck the same way it had been that first night. 

“He’s going to be okay,” you reassure him, although there’s a significant part of you that doubts your own words. He doesn’t respond, and you press kiss after kiss to his skin, whatever you can reach. When his tears start to dampen your shirt, his quiet sobs shaking his body, you only thank whatever gods might be out there that he trusts you enough to be this open. 

Time ticks by, the evidence of such reading on the clock next to the bed, but you pay it no mind. Your fingers have been locked in his hair for ages now, tangling in his curls and tugging in what you hope is a comforting motion. And it must be, because neither of you move until his breathing has evened out, the only remnants of his tears the occasional sniffle. 

“What if he’s right?” 

You barely hear his whisper, but anger flares in your chest nonetheless. You hate that Santiago did this. “He’s wrong,” you state firmly, hoping that he’ll believe you, even though you know he won’t. Not at first, at least. 

Frankie, predictably, shifts away, rolling off of you and to your side as he runs a hand over his face. “Everything Pope said is true, though.” 

Your body follows his, seeking out his warmth as you ease a leg over his thigh to tangle your limbs back together. 

“Like what? Tell me exactly what he said that’s true, because I don’t believe a word of it.” You accentuate your words by kissing away the remains of his fallen tears. 

It takes a bit for him to respond, but his thoughts are so loud you can nearly hear them. Still, you wait, and when he speaks his voice is quiet. “He said that this was never supposed to happen.” 

You know he’s referring to you, to whatever this between you might already be and what it might still become, and you make a mental note to kill Santiago later for putting doubt into Frankie’s mind. Doubt about himself, mostly, but also about you. 

You reassure him that you love him, because you do, and you’re pretty sure you always have. For every date that Santiago set you up on, for every new suitor he brought home, your happy ending had been there all long. And as you press a soft kiss to your lover’s chest, right above his heart, to prove to him that you’re here, you remind him of the one thing you’re more certain of than anything else. 

“That’s where he’s wrong. I think this was always supposed to happen.”

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

[melanie-ohara]

Gideon Souls - FINALE!

I was fed up and unrelatedly sad yesterday, but my guide and irrepressable, wonderful cheerleader @amethystasari was absent for reasons of Dragon Age Veilguard, so I pressed on alone. I tacked up a pretty picture of Crystal Farron, took a deep breath, and got to my grim work.

First of all I tracked down Dark Sun Gwyndolin, who is doing things with gender that have never before been seen in the realm of Lordran. I joined the covenant, and got very little from it. I feel like I've been missing out a lot not having multiplayer but also I don't want to deal with other humans

Then it was back to the DLC to clobber Kalameet after the trouble I had last time. It took a couple of goes, and I just didn't enjoy it very much. Fighting a great big dragon or a monster or something is a lot less rewarding, becuase when it kills me I think 'well of course it killed me, I am but a bug to them', and then when I finally get it I feel like it got unlucky.

Oo, the calamity ring, that sounds like a fitting reward for hunting a deadly enemy, I wonder what it does -

Oh I see. Oh very funny. Thanks so much.

I took a couple of runs at Manus and then decided he was still a bit too hard, so I left the Father of the Abyss for later and went back to the future to visit the Abyss in the present day. Apparently they flooded all of New Londo to contain it, so I was expecting a little more than dev-void.map. I knew already that the key to the four kings was to smack them hard and fast so you don't have to deal with more than one at a time, but I think probably I leaned into that a bit hard, because there was a good five seconds between each king appearing.

stupid wet cabbage looking motherfucker

Mostly I just let them hit me and then healed between kings, so I had no estus left by the time the last one showed up for an ass-kicking. I am back to one-shotting bosses, and it feels very good.

I was not accosted by another snake guy, which I thought happened here, but never mind. Seath the Scaleless time.

I really, really hate the Crystal Caves. Dark Souls and precision movement already don't mix, but making the platforms invisible is a real stupid, real irritating move. I died a bunch in here, and then - determined to never come back - one-shot Seath. The approach is harder than the boss. Just awful

Gee I wonder if I'm meant to do something with this crystal...

As soon as I determined that his big magic attack inflicted curse, I was not going to let him kill me because I was not fucking doing the purging stone run. The good news is, I didn't have to uninstall the game

Not pictured is the Demon Firesage, who I also one-shot. Apparently demons in this game are particularly easily put down by the light armour/heavy weapon build.

I wandered down to the next boss, and whose summon sign did I run into? My good friend Solaire! Obviously I brought him into the Centipede Demon fight.

This thing is just no fun to look at.

Solaire threw some completely useless firebolts at it and I hit it with my big sword, and it very helpfully died.

Thanks Centipede Demon, for dying when we hit you.

Right around the corner I fould Solaire again, only he seems very sad now. I guess his search for his 'sun' isn't going so well. Anyway, off we go to horrible Lost Izalith. This place sucks. Nothing but lava and dragon butts. The Bed of Chaos also sucks. After my exciting parade one shotting bosses for most of the afternoon, I fell down a hole and died.

Bad, bad boss.

Anyway, I went for an explore. Apparently I should have met Siegmeyer down here but he wasn't in the room with the horrible blender cthulus, so I went and found Solaire again. His new hat looked terrible, and he got mad when I told him that, soooo...

No more Solaire. Sad. Anyway!

There really is nothing else going on around here, so I went back to the Bed of Chaos. Basically I did it one section at a time, taking advantage of the one good design choice they made, until it was finally done.

Stupid little bug dickhead.

That just leaves Manus, and Gwyn.

Manus first. I hate the run back here, yet again, and I had to do it a bunch of times. In the end, I got fed up and put on the heaviest armour I could with the Favour and Protection and Havel rings while still fast rolling, and tanked my way through it. Havel's armour gave me so much poise I could heal through a couple of his lighter attacks, I don't know how I ever beat that guy.

Manus dead, Dusk saved. Sadly, this did not change the future, and Oolacile was still eaten. Oh dear.

With a very difficult boss defeated for very little reward, I went to tackle the final boss.

I'll admit, I was sort of thinking I might one-shot him at this point. Oh, my hubris. I was doing okay unless I had to heal, at which point he made it impossible to back up and find space. After getting fed up fighting the same five black knights every couple of minutes I gave up on beating him fairly, so I put on the Havel ring and armour and started tanking. With the sheer damage output of the black knight sword (which I now have six of), it was just a race to see who could hit 0hp first. I won, easily, which felt like cheating

Such a bad look. Hate it.

It's back to the Gideon black for the final cutscene, where Gideon sacrifices herself to restart the world, which feels in character.

Again, not an iron railing, but we take what we can get

So that was Dark Souls, starring Gideon Nav. The first half was great! the second half was mind numbing.

Next up is Dark Souls II, which I will be playing as Camilla Hect. I've seen what a strength build can achieve, let's see what I can do with dexterity

[jaxteller87]

my little empath 5

Teenager years 

I had prepared the stones for Jax before his run just to give him a little extra protection and, if I’m being honest, a little extra peace of mind for myself. It’s something I’ve been exploring more and more lately—working with crystals and their energies. I’ve found that certain crystals can have a really calming or protective effect, like black tourmaline for instance, is said to absorb negative energy and promote a sense of security. I’ve been learning about these properties and experimenting with different crystals to see how they make me feel. It’s fascinating to discover how these natural elements can influence our well-being, so when I thought about Jax going out for a run, I wanted him to have a little extra support and positivity with him.

“Here you go, Teller,” I said later that day, slipping the crystals into each of the pockets of his jeans.

“Oh, hey, thanks,” he said with a confused stare. “So, uh, rocks?” 

“Yep,” I laughed.

“Right,” he said in a long, drawn-out way. “Rocks?”

“Yeah, you know— because you ‘rocks’ my world,” I joked.

Jax threw his head back and laughed, “Alright, now that makes sense.”

“I thought you’d like that. But that’s only one of the reasons I’m giving these to you. Technically, they’re crystals. These ones, in particular, are black tourmaline.”

“Oh,” Jax pulled them out of his pocket and inspected them. “Kind of sounds like a badass name for a horse— or maybe something Tig contracted south of the border.”

“Ew. Let’s just go with the horse name,” I shuttered at the thought of Tig’s STD bucket list.

“Yeah, good idea. So, what does this black tourmaline do exactly?”

“Well, it’s like having a shield against negative vibes. This crystal absorbs that stuff and keeps you feeling grounded and protected. It’s like carrying a piece of nature’s armor with you wherever you go.” The more I told him, the more I felt compelled to share what I was learning about myself. 

We chatted for a while, but the time of his departure was on us before I even began to scratch the surface. I kissed him before he left, and I missed him before I heard the sound of his Harley disappear in the distance. After a few hours, he called me to let me know he arrived safely.

“Does it smell like something’s burning?” I asked with a chuckle as my mom poked her head into my bedroom the next day.

“No, actually, what you’re burning smells good,” she admitted.

A few months back, when I first started experimenting with incense, the aroma caught my mom off guard. She stormed in, thinking there was a fire ablaze somewhere in our home! It took her a moment to realize it was just the incense I had burning in my room. After that incident, I made it a rule to always give a heads-up before lighting anything new. I definitely don’t want my parents rushing in, worried the house is about to go up in flames every time I try out a new scent or ritual.

As I spent time cleansing my crystals today, purging them of any negative energy, I could really feel the power of this black obsidian working its magic. It’s like a spiritual vacuum cleaner, sucking up all the negativity and leaving me feeling refreshed. And that tiger’s eye I picked up during my last visit to the metaphysical shop? It’s been incredible for manifestation. I swear, since I started working with it, I’ve been seeing my intentions take shape more clearly. It’s like having a little cosmic ally nudging things in the right direction.

A few days later, Jax was back in town. I was happy to see him, but he had a somewhat sad look on his face.

“Darlin’, I hope you kept your receipt for those stones you gave me.”

I already knew what he was going to say, but I let him say it anyway. “Why’s that?”

“Well, they uh— they broke. Like some cheap glass trinket. Maybe you got ripped off, and someone sold you some junk.”

I tried to hide my smile because the crystals had done their job. “Or maybe they did exactly what they were designed to,” I said under my breath, planting a big kiss on his lips.

Jax POV

I was at the metaphysical shop in town, feeling pretty bad that the rocks Amber gave me had broken. This led me to the grand idea of replacing them with new ones. As I browsed, the shop owner emerged from the back with a warm smile. This play was a little too ‘hippy-ish’ for me, but if Amber was into it, I was willing to give it an honest go.

“Finding everything okay?” she asked cheerfully as I picked up a black tourmaline.

“I think so,” I replied. I went on to explain my situation, and when the shop owner learned the crystals were for Amber, she kindly added a few extra ones. “Hey, thanks. You ‘rock!’” I said with a forced chuckle.

“My pleasure,” she smiled back. Either she didn’t get the joke, or it was dumber than it sounded to me— which was already pretty dumb.

Back at Amber’s parents’ house, we sat on the back patio. “Oh, Teller, thank you!” Amber exclaimed gratefully. “You really didn’t have to do this!”

“Of course I did. The shop owner also recommended this,” I said, sliding a tarot deck towards her. The look on Amber’s face was priceless.

She thanked me, all smiles and gratitude, but I could tell there was something else simmering beneath the surface. Amber had a knack for keeping her true intentions under wraps, playing her cards close to the vest. I decided to let it ride for now—after all, patience was key with her.

It would be some time before I cracked the code of what Amber was truly planning. Until then, I’d just have to wait and see what scheme she was brewing up behind that mischievously enchanting grin of hers.

[shadowscrybe]

Rayven's Revenge- Chapter 14

Summary: Rayven is the younger sister of Rhysand in the Night Court. She was banished 64 years ago for the murder of her sister. This is the story of Rayven earning her place in Prythian and finding out what it means to be family. We all know how her story ends...but how did she get there? I don't want to forget the demon princess with bat wings. Do you?

Word Count: 968

Warnings: canon typical violence

A/N: This and 13 might be the shortest chapters we have, so here's both at the same time. FUCK DEVLON FR

She was going to end up dead in Illyria anyway. She had not rested in two days and burnout was approaching faster than ever before. 

She was expected to watch over the girls at the House, but after the conversation with the boys she was going to light all of Velaris on fire. 

Rayven lashed whips of flame across the open field outside her cottage till steaming dirt remained. Screaming herself hoarse, head tilted back to the stars. 

Rahne had licked up embers like snowflakes until she was as big as a cat. The shadow exalted in the destruction as she skipped around the field, leaving piles of fire in her place. She kept her attention on Velaris. Any of those bat boys came near her master, she’d burn them from the skies. 

On any other day, Rayven would never be able to take them, but standing in that room she could've reached into their minds and cooked them inside out. She was too angry to remember she loved them. 

Flames licked out in intense purges. Hair loose and whipping her face, she could barely see through it and the tears. 

Panting over her knees, she felt her fuel beginning to sputter. 

Oh well. Then she’ll spar with every tree and rock between her and Windhaven. She hadn't had an opponent she could demolish in a while. 

The shadowy flame flickered out in her hand, not even smoke remained. 

“All out,” said Devlon. 

Rahne hadn't warned her of his approach. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She centered her weight under her, running through attacks and blocks. The familiar weight of her dagger spun in her palm. 

“I saw the smoke from my tent,” his lips curled into a polite smile. “I came to check on you. I don't like how we left things earlier.”  Devlon had attempted to bed her many times over the decades. And every time she sent the disgusting male running. Today would be no different. But she had never humiliated him before today. 

“My earlier offer has expired.” She angled away from him, but never turned her back to the leech. “I don't need fire to kill you.”

He laughed, low and without humor. “You can't kill me. You're on my land, princess.” 

If she had any power left in her she’d have cooked him and dealt with the consequences later. With shadowfire, she was unmatched. He was powerless, never granted a siphon in all his years as Lord, but he was easily the better-trained Illyrian and far more valuable to the Highlord. If she killed Devlon, Windhaven would revolt. Sending Illyria into a civil war. The Highlord wanted Illyrian control more than a few females. Even if one of those females were his daughter. 

“These are Night Court lands. The princess outranks you.”

He stepped closer to her and Rahne slammed into him before he could get in arms length. She moved like she was cursing the bastard, but Rayven heard nothing from her shadow. 

His thick fingers twisted around Rahne and tossed her away. She was back in a heartbeat, her little form clawing at his chest leathers. 

He laughed at her minimal damage. 

“You've got nothing left.” His ugly face came into her field of vision. “How about a rematch?” 

She waited to move until he was just about to grab her. She jammed her palm into the hook of his nose then used his stupor to jump into flight. She and Rahne didn't need to speak. They knew where they were headed. 

She may not have had any fire left, but her wings were just fine. Rayven placed her feet on her perch and waited for the lord. 

Her heartbeats were even as she gauged her next move. 

Come and get me. 

He was a wing length away when she dove off the side and raked her nails down his wings. How therapeutic, she thought, to shred them with her hands. 

He landed awkwardly after the assault and she saw the blood leaking down his right wing. 

Rayven palmed the knife, thankful she hadn't disarmed in her room earlier. 

“Bitch,” he spat. 

“Last chance to leave alive.” She was in a giving mood today apparently. 

“You're not even pretty.” He looked absolutely insane stalking toward her. “What makes you think you can reject me?”

She flipped the handle away, catching the blade between her thumb and forefinger. She raised it to her eyeline, gauging the distance and path it’d take to the middle of his skull. 

Then shadows erupted. 

The shadowsinger’s landing rocked the earth under her feet. 

Devlon stopped short. 

Somehow Azriel’s presence ignited a new fury in her blood. She didn't need some alpha bat boy coming to her rescue. She lowered the blade, internally rolling her eyes. 

He’s mine. Rayven tried to send, but the winds swept it away. She really had nothing left. 

She repeated her words aloud, but Azriel ignored her and spoke to Devlon. “You are to remain in Windhaven unless called upon.” His voice was a lethal calm. 

“She almost killed two of my lords and I still inquired about her well-being after she razed one of my fields. To attack me after a simple disagreement?” Devlon tisked. “This is very unbecoming of a princess.” 

“You sold Davina!” she snarled. 

Azriel held a hand out to his side to quiet her. 

“It is handled. You are dismissed.” 

Devlon hadn't taken her seriously, but he’d be a fool to challenge Azriel. Azriel definitely wouldn't kill him and Devlon didn't want to find out why that was worse than death. 

“Good luck in the Rite,” Devlon’s face curled into a sinister smile, revealing bloody teeth. “We look forward to your performance.” And then he was heading back to Windhaven with a dripping wing.

[ivegennedmylastloss]

hidey hodey neighborinoes i know i may or may not have disappeared for like half a fucking year but brain does what brain do. since i am now willing to admit that i likely will not find the motivation to write a full length fic like i would want, i wanted to post the “outline” (re: complete gibberish only past me could understand). at some point i’ll try to compile all the tidbits i had sprinkled across drafts and docs and try to clean it up a little but, well, im not even sure what i meant in some spots. hopefully ill pull the writers block out of my ass one day but until then, take this word vomit:

(for clarifications sake, r= red/ranboo, g= green/charlie, b= blue/sneeg, h= hetch, sfm= showfall media)

retelling of ep three from hetch’s pov. mask broke sfm doesn’t know. reset after stab still aware of what he’s doing but can’t control himself. hopeful ending with planning to save the trio and get them out?

the closet sfm is onto hetch so he has to do damage control ran receiving no instructions. things settle scenes been dragging he panics and basically controls r to kill ethan

maybe broadcasted to a different universe. problem w family and friends recognize

maybe broadcasted to rich assholes like in the purge/gladiator type deal?

the face of the hacker wasn’t actually supposed to do things but did anyways

follow up w/ rgb saving him g and b reluctant. r insist they won’t let anyone else die because of them. idk burn the mall maybe torch it like a fuckin wasp nest

employees stop at the door mannequins little nightmares two.

all four struggling down the road maybe r passing out carried by g or b

hot wire a car

traumatize gas station clerk

fire department from fire alarm

hetch flag down car 2 options:

car sped off but called police for them

offered ride to hospital

hetch the sidewalk isn’t wide enough fourth wheel type deal mostly unscathed compared to rgb but smol bean has anxiety and left over programming. weak little noodle arms can’t help shit. b sending hella death glares

b wouldn’t want to help hetch

r electrocuted from attempted mask removal

through the power of friendship and laws of physics or electrical plasma whatever it isn’t fatal hoorah

hetch stunned doesn’t help gb fuckin pissed at him

paramedics confused about what happened to these very dedicated cosplayers that are found half dead barely hours after the live finale

r wakes and is terrified thinking they’re at the box and start screaming for gb. hetch freezes g n b have to be held back by police

hospital r coma from noggin surgery (medically induced for healing cause wtf) g and b want to kick hetch’s ass only stop cause of r

prob not ccs maybe r foster kid hinted maybe

b needs to get to punch someone. american healthcare so probably a doctor or a nurse

hetch medically released first<irrelevant travel distance. hetch watching charlie and sneeg have friends and family going in and out but r has no on so hetch goes

others not allowed in camp out in waiting room. ran wakes up and freaks. competent doc allows them in and r calms down. good doc fights for them to be able to stay in the room psych health. special accommodations are made no tv in room gets a double room for more beds/couches <<needs special room post brain surgery op icu maybe nurse/doc maneuverability <<< maybe one allowed in at a time

^the nice doctor thrown in for pity maybe philza if crossover? detective techno? or both detectives that almost beat the shit outta the responding cops for fucking up the most important case they’d ever get

sfm sends an employee pretending to be ranboos mom. the others are scared but also she is acting like a mom that lost her kid so maybe it’s okay??<< others not allowed in the room since family only? nope ran wakes up freaks cause that bitch ain’t momboo (dead question mark? orphan? don’t tell techno)

employee tries to strangle r no loose ends: doc pulls her off; trio breaks in hetch proves himself?; r is a bamf and defends themself (hitting? reverse uno they strangle her? rips out iv and stabs her?< needle to weak would have to be in eye)

r scared to sleep from cabin electrocution and execution hold hand 👉👈?

carousel saved NO FIRE IF CAROUSEL perhaps a group meet for victims ranboo and hetch reluctant to enter cause they think they’re their murderers. eef spots r and runs to hug him others follow positive to r wary to hetch b says hetch is the one responsible for saving all of them bada bing bada boom happy ending

[sobdasha]

i'm no longer confident i'll ever get a fic out of this

and I would like to purge the papers/I don’t think I’ve put this on tumblr yet. I generally think of the concept as “Three Days Later” despite every version I've found having Link pass out for less than 3 days, and based on my notes it’s kind of a jumble of ponderings following the end of A Link to the Past.

Roughly, the idea is that after touching the Triforce and setting all to rights, Link goes immediately home and passes out in bed for maybe a couple of days, then wakes up to a letter from Princess Zelda who wants him to come to the castle to actually chat, which is awkward because she knows so much more about Link (having been watching him for most of the game) than Link knows about her. And then a little Twilight Princess callback, as a treat.

In the intro a feeling I really wanted to capture is one of those things drawn from life. Having lived in the same house with the same bed in the same position for 20 years, waking up in my new bedroom after moving out for probably the first half-year was occasionally very surreal. In the very brief window between waking and awake, the moment before my eyes opened, I would have a very vivid sense of where I was located in my bedroom and which walls I would see when I opened my eyes, and often simultaneously a very disorienting sense of not being sure I knew which room I was actually in. The weirdness would clear up immediately after I opened my eyes and saw where I was, but that didn’t make the moment any less intense every time it happened.

I just think it would be a very likely sensation for a Link to have, having spent an entire game not-sleeping or passing out wherever and very rarely stopping in at home to sleep. Being convinced that when you open your eyes you’ll be in your childhood bedroom, knowing that you actually have no clue where you went to sleep at, and then realizing upon opening your eyes that you are actually home. Emphasis on home because Link’s uncle is alive again! It’s not waking up to an empty house, it’s waking up to the sounds and smells of someone who loves you cooking a meal.

The letter from Princess Zelda is probably something very official, nice heavy stationery and royal seal and polite wishes for Link to be recovering well from his ordeal. The crown would surely like to give him some sort of commendation or boon as thanks for his services.

Link is a bit bemused by that part as he did, after all, lay his hand on the Triforce and have it look into his heart and mind and grant all his wishes. He’s not entirely sure what he wished for because he was really tired at the time but he’s pretty sure it was fine and he doesn’t have any desires left unfulfilled. The Dark World was supposed to have dissolved with Ganon’s defeat, Princess Zelda and the sages are safe, the King of Hyrule is alive again and so is his uncle–it seems the Triforce did a bang-up job of interpreting Link’s brain fog and sincere desire for the world to just be right again.

He supposes he’ll go to the castle anyway because it would be rude not to after Princess Zelda specifically asked.

And then, per my usual, I wanted to end with some feelings of pre-Zelink. While Link and Princess Zelda may have gotten in some Friends Bonded By Trauma during the flight to the sanctuary, I think it just wasn’t that conducive overall to becoming close friends. And I don’t think Link was technically an official Knight of Hyrule yet, so he probably didn’t even have a business relationship established with her yet? Plus I feel there’s some inherent awkwardness to Princess Zelda feeling like she knows Link very personally–having witnessed all his trials ~as if in a dream~ while prism’d–while Link knows very little about her and didn’t get to choose to reveal everything she saw about him.

So I wanted to have Princess Zelda acknowledge that and try to convey her desire to start becoming friends going forward, on an equal footing, using their words and not sage powers.

Because I’m me, I also thought: yes, this should touch on Twilight Princess.

So I pictured Princess Zelda getting up and standing away from him, giving him the decency of not being stared at or feeling scrutinized for reactions while she gives a little speech. And telling him that when she first learned that the Dark World had transformed him into a rabbit, she thought it was a mistake.

How could the hero she depended on, the young man who’d answered her plea on that horrible night and fought their way to the Sanctuary, have the heart of a hapless and helpless bunny? She thought it would be more fitting for a hero to be reflected as something like a wolf, a beast that would drive out Agahnim and Ganon, beasts themselves with their jaws around Hyrule’s throat. 

But as she came to know him better, she realized that what Agahnim needed to fear most about him wasn’t the bite of his sword, but the staunchness of his kind heart.

I’m reminded again that I failed to write this up properly because I still don’t have a clue how to pace it such that the above line really has a punch since it is kind of the core of the thing to be conveyed. Instead it is just dangling there, not sure it’s impactful at all, no clue how to let it sit with you and breathe, and then it would just be like “that’s the kind of person I’d like to know better as a friend” so good talk pls come back to the castle again soon

but hey now I can recycle those papers and not keep shuffling them around in the clutter!

[junkydrawr]

More Snively fic!

This scene is wedged in after fishing with Sonic and Sally but before gardening with Melinda. A few other scenes (not posted) take place in between as well and this scene also references other non-posted earlier stuff. Also, there is reference to the SatAM episode 'Sonic Conversion' (where they attempt to build a deroboticizer).

After Snively had woken the next morning and gone to the loo to do his business, he entered the kitchen. Instantly his caution radar went up. Bunnie wasn't preparing a meal. She was pouring their coffee into two canteens.

"What's going on...?"

"We're having breakfast in the pavilion."

He retreated to the couch, yawning. "Mmm. I'm actually rather tired still. I think I'll go back to sleep."

"Oh no, you don't. Yer comin' with."

"I'd rather not."

She slung both canteens over her shoulder. "That's nice. Ah don't care. Ah'm hungry, so let's go."

He flopped back onto the couch.

She sighed. "Don't be a stubborn git. Get up or Ah'm gonna drag you there by the hairs."

He growled. "You wouldn't dare."

"Ah wouldn't?" She laughed; he heard her metal feet getting closer. "Just try me, Sugah."

He didn't move.

He felt her furred hand grip his forearm and pull.

"Stop it!" He squealed. "Don't touch me - I'm tired! Just let me stay here!"

"Snively, stop that! Gosh, yer bein' stupid. How old are you, anyway?"

He sat up, lip lifted in a snarl. "Old enough that I don't need Mother Rabbit pulling me out of bed. Maybe you want to wipe my ass, too?" He grabbed his bag of clothes and stormed towards the bathroom.

"You don't need to take a shower!" She yelled through the door.

"Yes, I do!" He took his sweet time bathing and getting dressed.

They walked silently to the pavilion, he trailing behind the Mobian. Watching her hips sway, the fluffy puff of tail. Pondering, not for the first time - her luck for getting rescued before her nethers could turn to metal. He imagined she would've died quite quickly then - her body unable to purge the organic waste.

I doubt she sees herself as lucky.

He entertained the idea of sneaking away but then she turned to assure he was coming. He twisted his lips. They came to the meeting area and he beheld the core Freedom Fighters seated at the biggest table, an array of breakfast before them.

The skunk let out a huge groan as the two sat down. "How am I supposed to eat now, with that bloody stench in the air?"

Sonic chuckled.

Snively bristled. "Come off it, rodent. I don't smell. I've just showered."

"That makes it worse. At least the dirt helps mask it a little." Geoffrey held his nose.

"You smell like an armpit that's been sweating for a week straight." Snively sniffed and looked over the food. Bunnie handed over his canteen of coffee.

Sally let out a sigh. "Good morning, you two. Can we not start the day off with bickering?" Her stink eye settled on the skunk. He smiled coyly, tipping his hat.

Snively reached over the table for a blancberry muffin. Bunnie filled a bowl with sliced fruits and berries and slid it to him. "Eat somethin' good, Sugah."

He tried to ignore Geoffrey and Sonic's snickering. He wouldn't admit, but he enjoyed the fruit quite a bit. There was a certain...immediacy to it, a freshness that was never present in the dehydrated foods of Robotropolis. He popped berries into his mouth, savoring them between swigs of coffee.

The Mobians chatted about inane things. The weather. The current chores they were assigned to. Apparently, they operated on some kind of rotating schedule, when they weren't terrorizing Robotropolis. He tuned out, staring over at the path that led to the ring pool.

The chipmunk, Rosie, was leading some of the children down the path. The two-tailed fox turned and waved at them. They waved back. Snively took a bite of the muffin.

Sally sighed and Sonic patted her back. She picked up a small curl of paper, fiddling it between her fingers. "Sir Charles is still working on accessing the Command Room ducts. He's been spraying the metal grates with the Krudoz solution."

Rotor nodded. "How's it going?"

"They're corroding more slowly because of the coating over them. But we'll get through." She looked at Snively. He sipped his coffee, avoiding her eye.

"What can you tell us about those snake bots?"

He shrugged.

"You built them, didn't you?"

"Yes. What's there to tell? They're patrol bots. Robotnik never listened to me when I said the ducts needed to be protected. So I remedied that."

"They have some kind of tranquilizer in their bite?"

He nodded, helpless to the sneer that began to curl his lips. "Effective, wasn't it?"

"You had to run and let your uncle out to help you, so no," said Sally.

Do not react. He took a bite of the muffin, extra big. More time chewing, more time to bitchslap his rage back into its corner.

"Is there any easy way to deactivate them? It's too dangerous to throw Krudoz bombs inside the duct. Might eat the floor away right from under us."

"Not really. Maybe you could use a recording of my voice to tell them to stand down. They only respond to me. Robotnik and Naugus don't know about them."

"Yeah, that could work. We'll record you later. Have Sir Charles try it out." She looked over the group. "Once we can spy on the Command room again, we'll do our trial attack."

Snively ate another piece of fruit. It had a fibrous texture, a taste like coconut and strawberries. He tried to ignore a sudden spike of nausea. Attack. Missions. Despite his efforts, he had to set the fruit down as his belly lurched.

I...I can't go back there.

"W-w-what..." He cleared his throat. "...what kind of trial attack?"

"Don't worry, Sugah, we ain't needin' you for this one," Bunnie said, nudging his arm. He jumped slightly at the touch.

"We're planning to hit a factory. Just a test to see how Robotnik and Naugus retaliate without you there."

Snively grunted. "Ah. This paltry shit again."

The predictable frown arrived on Sally's face. "What?"

"This small fry nonsense. Let's blow up one factory. Let's shut down the generator for a couple hours." He yawned. "Let's just be a pain in the rear rather than inflict some serious damage. The SWATbots and their terrible aim caused more problems."

She scoffed. "We can only do so much at once. The longer we stay in Robotropolis, the higher the risk we get caught. And we aren't an explosives factory. We don't have some huge stockpile of bombs."

"Then build up until you have enough to actually do something. Do you know how annoying it was to constantly rebuild trifling things after you wrecked them? Like having a child make a mess right after you cleaned up."

Geoffrey snarled. "Why don't you shut it? Nobody asked your opinion."

He gave Bunnie a sidelong sneer. "Then why am I here? I told you I wanted to stay in bed."

"There's another reason we can't just blow everything up, Snively." Sally blew out a long, aggrieved sigh. "You know that."

He took a swig of coffee. His mind was blank. It couldn't be for fear of ruining anything. All their outdoor statues and monuments were long destroyed.

"I'm sure you don't care, of course, but...we do." The Princess's voice was a degree above frozen.

Another swig, and a shrug. He hoped to look apathetic rather than clueless.

"I don't think he gets it, Sal." The hedgehog scowled.

"The roboticized!" Sally exclaimed. "We have to be careful. That's why we don't target certain buildings. That's why we can't just 'blow everything up'."

Oh. Snively set down his coffee. "Why bother? They're a lost cause."

Sonic and Sally had a matching fire in their eyes. He heard Bunnie hiss beside him.

"Yo, my Uncle Chuck ain't no lost cause! Even if he can't get his body back, he's got his mind! He's alive!"

"We're working on a deroboticizer. We had some luck, but it didn't take."

An insidious chuckle escaped him. The heat level was rising at the table, but he uncapped the fuel anyway. "I highly doubt that."

His thoughts drifted to the massive shell of wires and glass in Robotropolis. How far along was Robotnik in building it? And then powering it, with energy far beyond what these animals had at their disposal?

They do have the power rings though...

He couldn't much ponder that, with Sally murdering him with her gaze. "I don't know why you're laughing. You don't know the progress we made."

"Heh. Then tell me."

She recapped their 'success story' and he shook his head. "Sounds like all that happened was the nanites created a superficial skin of flesh over the existing metal. But without anything to sustain it...it literally rotted away." He ate another berry. "Hardly a rousing victory."

For a moment, he basked in wicked satisfaction. The Princess's gaze dropped, crestfallen. Silently, she nibbled on her toast.

"Yo, that isn't cool, Snobley."

"What isn't cool? Breaking your bubble of delusion?"

"Oh mah stars. Snively, that's enough." Bunnie nudged him.

"I'll break your stupid nose!" Sonic jeered, his threats intertwining over Geoffrey's: "Oh, I'll break you, mate." Snively resisted the urge to yawn again. Julian had made worse threats before breakfast.

"They aren't a lost cause." Sally set down her toast, voice dark with ire and rising steadily. "It doesn't matter about our setback. We'll keep trying. When we bring Robotnik down, we'll have all the resources we need. And if we can't deroboticize them...we'll free their minds. They aren't a lost cause!" Her fist slammed the table.

"Sir Charles has been the only breakthrough in eleven years." Snively shook his canteen, hearing the unfortunate slosh of one last swig remaining. "But...good luck. I'm sure you'll do it. Somehow."

"We'll do it, Snively. We took Robotnik down, took you down. Destroyed the 'great' Doomsday machine. We got my father back. Look at our track record - look at yours. Why should I even care about the words of a failure?"

His teeth grit behind his lips. He fumbled for words cruel, vile... he ached to cut the grins off Geoffrey and Sonic's face, scalpel digging in deep, smell the blood. Instead, he sat, quivering with the want of violence.

"Believe what you want," he finally spat. "I've seen what overconfidence brings to an arrogant fool."

"So have I. Which is why you're sitting here, eating breakfast solely at our mercy." Sally wielded that scalpel with her eyes. The snickering from the men continued.

He jumped as Bunnie's hand touched his arm. "Come here. Ah want a minute, Sugah."

He pulled his arm away, but stood. Anything to get away from the vermin.

------

Bunnie led him out of earshot - well, unless she screamed at him - to the edge of the pond's path. Being this close triggered the urge to head down and smoke.

"What was that all about, Sugah?"

"Just doing what I do best." Snively ignored her narrowing eyes. This was such a bore.

"Being a right git is what you do best?"

"Yes. Amid dispensing a dose of reality."

"It ain't reality."

"It is. You delusional fools just don't want to hear it. Everything is sunshine and roses with you." He rolled his eyes.

"And what's so wrong about tryin' to be positive? Ah know you ain't got much practice, livin' with Robotnik and all, but you could try it for once." She placed a hand on his arm and his skin crawled.

The mention of Julian brought that wretched bastard's face to the forefront. The bitterness inside him simmered. Came out in a hiss, boiling hot. He wrenched away. "Quit touching me, animal!"

A flurry of emotions whipped through her face. Surprise, anger. He braced himself for the punch. But the last emotion settled and it rankled him even more. Empathy.

"Ah know what yer doin'. Puttin' on a front. Actin' tough because yer scared to let us in. Scared to even try makin' friends."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." He laughed. "Make friends? Words of a failure? I'll break your stupid nose? Yes, I'm truly feeling the kinship, Mobian."

"If you didn't bite like a little snake, if you weren't such a prickly little cactus all the time -"

She should've been a poet.

"I'm not in need of 'friends' like those." She'd forced him to come to this stupid breakfast, forced him to sit with the fleabags. Brought up Julian. And even worse, she was still hitting him with those dewy eyes of hope and compassion. Such things deserved to be crushed underfoot. They were nothing but luscious fruits brimming with poison.

"...And what a joke, to think any of you are actually friends. Your situation is what created your supposed bond. Would you really be friends with a boar like Geoffrey?" A dark sneer cut his face. "Would an uppity priss like Princess Stick-up-the-ass even look twice at a twangy bumpkin like you?"

"Don't talk about her like that," Bunnie growled, and her metal fist clenched by her side. He watched it, a strange rush of eagerness flooding his veins. Oh, to break down Miss Rabbot's facade of saintliness. Make her give in to the urge to brutalize. It surely must reside beneath that sugary exterior.

He cast an eye to the meeting table, still within sight. The occupants were watching them.

All I need to do is push a few buttons...and bam. She'll go off like a bomb.

"Oh and why not? She's just a bag of lies, like all of you. Filling you with this nonsense. Why do you even want to be deroboticized, anyway?" He reached forward, flicking a fingernail with a 'ping' against her metal shoulder.

She bit her lip. "It...it ain't just about me."

"But it mostly is. Admit it."

"No, it ain't!" Her voice rose. But her eyes were going glassy, gathering tears.

This was like a child's game and he basked in the pettiness of it. "How can it not be, Rabbot? You want to trade your best asset just to look 'pretty' again."

A small cry escaped her. Her metallic fist raised up to her breast, tightening. Ready to launch. He goaded further, dug in.

"Come on, Rabbot! Do what you do best. Use that fist!" He took a step forward.

She drew in a breath and slowly that hand unfolded. The empathy was gone at least, replaced by disappointment and a wayward tear. She wiped it, turned away. "Ah'm going back to breakfast. You either come or don't."

She left him standing there with his cheek tilted, waiting for the blow that never came, the sick want of it gurgling in his gut like reflux. He watched her go back, watched all the eyes staring at him, waiting for him to move.

Fool. You look like a fucking fool.

He turned and headed for the pool, with not even a cigarette to fill the hollow inside.

----

Bunnie returned to the table and took a long drink of coffee, composing herself.

"Snively's not joining us?"

"He ain't ready to be civil yet, Ah guess." She slowly chewed one of the fibrous fruits. Her mind was in the past, to the day she thought she'd been deroboticized, just for a short while. In all the commotion with Chuckie reverting back to Robotnik's slave, she hadn't had much time to grieve. Late that night, crying in the shower, she'd noticed a sludge, a congealed film over her robotic parts that smelled terrible. She'd scrubbed and scrubbed, sobbing until long after the water was cold.

Without anything to sustain it... it literally rotted away.

She swallowed hard, feeling her throat close.

"You're too soft on him," Sally said.

She quietly cleared her throat. "Y'all can't expect him to change overnight..."

"Hey. You alright? What did he say?"

"Nothin'. Just bein' a git. Ah can handle it."

"Maybe he should go back to the jail," Sally said. "We gave him freedom too soon. He hasn't earned it."

"Maybe you should just give him a good beat down," Geoffrey waved a piece of toast. "That's how Robotnik kept him in line."

"Do Ah look like Robotnik to you?" Bunnie snapped, her voice turning bitter. "Other than my metal arm, of course. Ah don't know, maybe Ah am closer to him than anyone."

"Bunnie..." Concern wrinkled Sally's brow.

"Maybe he's right, ya know. About the lost cause."

"Yo, that stupid dweeb isn't right about that!" Sonic was up in a flash, sitting next to Bunnie and putting his arm around her. "Like Sal said, once we get the city back, we got all the tools we need. And we got Uncle Chuck. He ain't gonna stop until he figures it out."

He gave her a shake until she finally cracked a small smile and a nod.

"Mon cheri! My sweet!" Antoine and Rotor came up then, the coyote handing a flower to Bunnie. He gave Sonic a dirty look. The hedgehog returned to his seat.

"What took you so long?"

"That automatic vacuum I made for Ant had a little...glitch." Rotor sat down. "I had to help clean up the mess it made."

"I am thinking...the robots you make for me are curse-ed," Antoine said.

"Seems that way." Rotor chuckled.

"More like you're cursed," Sonic amended with a smirk.

As Sonic and Antoine bickered, Sally looked to Rotor. "You're starting to clean the workshop and storeroom today, right?"

Rotor wilted. "Yeah. I'll be done... maybe two years from now?"

"I was going to have Snively help Rosie today. But I think you could use it more. Would you be all right with him helping you?"

Rotor waffled uncertainly, then nodded. "Yeah. I guess so."

"All right. Good." She smiled, and then her eyes drifted to Bunnie again. The rabbit looked away, but unlike Snively, she felt no ire for the compassion in her friend's eyes.

But she did feel shame.

----

Snively smiled, then did a quick lookabout to make sure nobody saw him smiling. He'd taken off his boots and waded into the cool waters. A patch of clay made a wonderful burrow for his feet. He wiggled his toes into it, smiled again.

The last time he'd willingly swam was sometime in his childhood, before coming to Mobotropolis. Father had often had meetings with other stuffy bigwigs at the lakeside. Young Snively had kept himself entertained wading and floating (and sneaking alcoholic drinks when he could).

I've forgotten how pleasant water is. He did a pivot, his hands trailing through the coolness. When he came to face the path, Sally was standing there. Shit. He didn't drop the smile fast enough.

"I saw," she said. "You're finally smiling, now that you went and hurt Bunnie's feelings, after all she's doing for you."

"Yes, I'm a 'right git'," he said. Smiled again, just to annoy her. "Maybe you should exile me from the village."

"I can exile you back to the jail cells."

"Whatever pleases you, Princess." He waded out further, turning his back to her. Any deeper and he'd get his rolled-up pants wet.

"It would please me if you did something constructive today. Not wandering around and getting yourself beaten up again."

He smirked, looked over at her. "You really shouldn't blame the victim, Princess."

Her eyes went dark. "You are not the victim, Snively."

Such a priss. It was a joke. She's as humorless as Uncle.

"I am being constructive," he said to her continued glare. "I'm taking a mental health day. That's important, right?"

She gave an exasperated headshake. "You need more than a day. But...speaking of health, I want Doctor Quack to examine you. Make sure you're ok."

A screeching laugh burst from him. "Did you say Doctor Quack?"

"Yes, Horatio Quack, our doctor-"

He put a fist to his mouth to stop the mad giggles. "Haha...Q-q-quack...oh, you people are hilarious."

"We'll get you in today," she said and his giggling finally quelled.

He sloshed a hand, perturbed. A Mobian poking and prodding him? Asking questions about old scars? No thanks. "I don't need an exam. I'm healthy. I've been injected with a zillion nanites over the years."

She ignored that. "After that, I want you to help Rotor. He's going to start organizing his storeroom. It's a big job."

"But I'm forbidden to go in there." He shook the wrist with the tracker.

"And who forbade you? Come on. Let's see if Quack can see you."

He took a step back. "I'll help Motor, but I'm not going to your quack of a doctor."

"Yes, you are. Come on." Her hands went to her hips.

"No."

"Snively, don't think I won't come in there and drag you out."

That brought enticing thoughts of how she'd look with her fur plastered to her skin. Another step back. "You're welcome to try."

She growled, eyes flashing. "Or maybe I'll go fetch Daddy. Do you want him to get involved?"

He stiffened. "You...you don't have to get him. I... I just don't want to be touched by some weirdo. If I was sick, I'd tell you." He widened his eyes, stuck out his bottom lip.

She groaned. "Fine. You can go to Quack tomorrow."

That isn't going to happen. If I can push it back one day, I'll push it back another. Indefinitely.

He waded towards shore. He'd gotten his pants wet after all. Sally griped while he took his time putting on his socks and boots.

----

They headed through Knothole. Cresting a small hill, they came to a strange octagon-shaped building plated in metal. On one side was a long, low building, on the other was a hut. The hut door opened as they came near, and the pudgy walrus emerged.

"Uh, hi guys."

Sally unclipped her computer. "NICOLE, disable location 'Rotor's workshop' on Snively's tracker."

"Disabled, Sally."

Rotor stood near the door of the metal building. "Might want to stand back."

When the door opened, Rotor dived to the side. Like a flood, a mixed assortment of junk came flowing out. Metal scraps, robot parts, wires, tools. When the tide settled, it revealed the storeroom was still crammed floor to ceiling.

Snively kicked aside a broken screwdriver. "Hoarding issues?"

Rotor rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you never know what you need until you need it."

Snively's foot found another item. A rusted and dented head of an old caterkiller robot. He snorted, gave it a good boot. "Is everything in here as useless as that?" He turned to Sally. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to help with this."

"I don't recall this being a voluntary assignment." She patted Rotor's arm. "Good luck. And you let me know if Snively is misbehaving."

Rotor blushed. "Sure, Sally."

The Princess left. Snively watched her, then cast a side eye to the walrus. He was watching her too. Did everyone around here want a piece of squirrel?

"Better get started. I mean, this is gonna take more than one day anyway, for sure. I'm gonna get some tarps so we can organize things."

Rotor headed towards the long building, which Snively assumed was the workshop. Not that he cared. The walrus's back was turned.

Perfect opportunity to escape. He's too fat to catch me.

He tried to forget that the walrus had caught him before.

Snively spun around and hurriedly skittering away. He got to the small hill. At the bottom, Sally Acorn stood with her arms crossed.

He came to a stop. Slowly, she unfolded one arm and aimed a finger back towards Rotor's hut. Her eyes were murderous.

Rotor was laying down the second tarp when Snively returned. He didn't say a thing, just pointed to a stack of tarps. With a grunt, the Overlander took one, shaking it out and laying it aside the others.

"Come on, this is gonna be fun. Who knows what we'll find?" Rotor smiled unconvincingly.

Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I can find things to disable this stupid tracker. Snively's eyes brightened at the thought.

Sally will most likely have you frisked, you know.

A dirty little smile touched his lips. Well. Then I better fill my pockets.

Rotor looked over with a frown.

Then again, I imagine it'll be Tuna-breath here doing the search.

He leaned down and hooked a finger in the caterkillers's busted-out eye socket. "So, which one is the trash tarp?"

-

Four hours later, they had items on every tarp...and had barely made a dent into the contents of the storeroom.

Rotor uncertainly looked down at a jumble of frayed wires. Snively swiped it from his hand.

“That is absolute garbage.”

“But I could salvage a few of those wires, I-”

“You've got enough wire to encircle the bloody planet!” Snively whipped it towards the trash pile.

“Yeah...I guess so.” Rotor observed a piece of pipe next. “Hmmm. Well, it's a litle rusted, but-”

“Trash.”

With a sigh, the walrus chucked the pipe at the trash tarp. He yawned then, rubbed at his eyes. “All this sorting is tiring.“I'm beat. Think I'll pick this up again tomorrow.” 

“Fantastic. Well. Goodbye.” Snively bent over and dusted off his pants, then turned to walk away.

“Um...wait.” Rotor wrung his hands. “Do...do you want to help me tomorrow?”

Not particularly, he wanted to say. Of course, if he didn't, Sally would probably find something even more irksome to occupy him. He blew out a breath.

“Think you can sneak some drinks over here?”

“Like...alcoholic drinks?” Rotor frowned and shook his head. 

“You're no fun...” Snively sighed, looking over the tarps. Even the 'keeper' piles were absolute junk.

“It's ok. I'll see if Antoine is free.”

At that moment, Sally approached. Snively grit his teeth; he had been hoping to escape before she showed up. 

“How are things going? My goodness, Rotor, was all of this really in there?”

“This isn't even a quarter of it,” the small human grumbled. 

She gave him a dark stare. “And how were you today? Did you behave yourself? Rotor, how was he?” 

“I was an angel,” Snively simpered, batting his eyelashes. 

“I don't know what that is,” Rotor said, scratching his head. “But...um...yeah. He was really helpful. Don't think he wants to come back tomorrow though.”

“Well...” Sally smiled sweetly. “Isn't that too bad. Same time tomorrow, Snively.”

He grumbled. “Yes. Well. See you then, Motor.” 

“Um...It's Rotor...”

“...Whatever.” Again, Snively made to leave. Sally put her hands on her hips.

"Wait a minute. Take off your boots and socks. Turn out your pockets."

Snively squeaked, putting a mock-abashed hand to his mouth. "Why, Princess! Shouldn't we have some privacy before you remove my clothes?"

"You wish. Do it, or I'll have them removed in front of the whole village!"

"What's with you animals and stripping me?" He mumbled.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing." He grunted as he crouched to take off his footwear. No contraband there. His pockets came out similarly empty. You must think I'm truly stupid, Miss Priss, to steal on the first day.

She didn't know about his underwear either, apparently. Bunnie hadn't laughed about it with her?

Good. The perfect hiding place for me. Albeit a little uncomfortable.

She scanned him with NICOLE then, checking for any electronic devices or trackers. Satisfied, she beckoned him to follow.

--

"Am I released from my servitude?" Snively asked as he trailed her down the hill.

"For today." Her eyes narrowed. "It's dinnertime. Bunnie is eating with Sonic, Antoine and I, just so you know. You're on your own."

His stomach grumbled right on cue.

She smiled, bereft of humor. "Apologies go a long way with her. She won't go demanding them, but believe me. It'll help."

He mumbled under his breath. "I'm not apologizing for being right."

She tilted her head. "I can't understand you when you mumble like that. Speak up."

He shook his head.

She tossed her hair, sniffed. The epitome of snobbery. "I doubt it was worth hearing anyway. Stay out of trouble."

Yeah right.

----

He swung open the door to Bunnie's, pausing in the threshold. The place was quiet. If she was eating with her friends and hadn't invited him, she must still be sore from the truth beatdown.

"Oh please," he muttered. "If I bawled every time Robotnik said something mean, there wouldn't a speck of dry land on the planet!"

There was leftover noodles and vegetables from last night in the cold storage. But when he opened the door, the noodles were absent. His stomach growled again. She must've taken them to the dinner.

"Shit." He twisted his lips, went to the window to peer in the direction of the mess hall. No amount of hunger would force him in there.

I take it she doesn't want me here tonight. He sighed, searched the fridge again and found nothing tempting. He took a packet of smoked fish from the pantry and left. One stop at the jail to retrieve the hidden cigarettes he'd stolen from Geoffrey and then he was at the pond, lighting up.

In between puffs, he ate the fish. It was salty and strong. He made a face, thoughts going to Rotor. And then to the piles of things... There had been wires. Magnets. Batteries. He lifted his wrist, eyeballing the tracker.

I know I can disable it. Might need some kind of shock protection to wrap my wrist. In case there's some kind of anti-tampering failsafe in there. He wouldn't put it past Sally.

He'd wait. See what else emerged from the depths of the storeroom.

His thoughts then turned to the Freedom Fighter's pointless mission. It would be curious to see how Robotnik and Naugus were faring without him. Terrible, I'm sure. I was the city's heartbeat.

He stretched out his feet, looking over the pool. The remembrance of the water sliding on his skin, cool as weightless silk. He shivered, contrasting it to the oppressive clouds, the perpetual twilight of Robotropolis, all waters rancid and vile. The noise, the smell, the acidic sting in the air.

He started a little at his thought.

I don't miss it.

A light drizzle started. He, wedged against the tree stump, was mostly protected from it by the swaying leaves above. It felt nice after the work of the day, regardless.

It carried on for a long while. He guessed he'd been here an hour, burning through two more cigarettes. Nobody came down to swim. The sky shifted to a darker blue, the light waning.

He burped and it tasted like fish. Yuck. He was terribly thirsty. He stood and went to the shore, crouching down to cup his hands into the water. But as he went to drink, he froze.

The water in the middle of the pool was...bubbling? He opened his hands, letting the liquid slip through, and retreated several paces. Brow wrinkled, he stood warily.

Now a light was shining up through the depths.

What in the bloody hell?

A loud whoop startled him. It sounded like a hurricane was headed down the path. The blasted hedgehog. Quickly, he ducked behind one of the trees.

The hedgehog zoomed out onto a log that overhung the pool. Snively had never sat on it for fear of falling into the water (or getting knocked in by that mutant fox). He stood, his sneakered foot tapping. The turmoil of the water grew, the glow became so bright Snively had to squint, his eyes watering.

From a tower of water, a sparkling gold ringlet arose. A power ring! Sonic grabbed it, quickly tucking it into his knapsack.

Snively's mouth flooded with saliva, his brain awash in sycophantic thoughts, tingling with the serotonin rush. Oh, if I could get that for Uncle, he'd be so pleased with me, it would make him so happy, I must get it-

Sonic zipped away. The glow faded, the pool fell dim in the waning daylight. A mosquito bit his arm, breaking him from his stupor.

He blinked away after-images of the golden ring. The rush vanished, replaced by the sourness of loathing. He set his nails into his arm, twisting the skin, pinching hard enough to dig red crescents. You stupid sod. You absolutely pathetic... You are not Robotnik's bitch anymore...!

He emerged from the trees, gazing forlornly at the dark waters. His stomach rumbled from the fish. More mosquitoes swarmed him. It was nearly night and he was without a haven.

He dropped his arm, let it swing, feeling the weight of the tracking bracelet.

...No...you're not Robotnik's slave anymore. Now you're just the chattel of these damned animals.

----

He wandered the darkening village aimlessly.

There was no masochistic way he was going to stay at Geoffrey's again. He ended up back in the prison hallway, but once his teeth began chattering, he abandoned that idea.

Feeling frazzled, he wandered again before pausing before Sally's hut. Lights were on inside. She moved past the window, with NICOLE in hand, her mouth yammering.

"Any excuse to hear the sound of your own voice," he muttered. A dark smirk spread on his face as he watched her pace. Various fantasies he'd entertained on long hours of security played through his head.

A sudden breeze cooled the rising sweat on his body... A strange wind swooping over his left side. He turned to look and his scream was only stifled by a gloved hand clamping over his mouth.

Sonic drew back his hand when Snively was done squealing. The hedgehog's quills were on end. "Just what you doin' out here, Snerdly, peeking at my girl? "

"Uh... N-n-no." Snively cleared his throat. "I uh...need a place to sleep tonight."

Sonic's smile was vile. "You sure the heck ain't sleeping at her house."

Snively couldn't help the rising sneer. "Someone is insecure..." He cleared his throat again. "Very well. Do you have room?"

"Nobody is roomin' with this ole hedgehog. And if Bunnie kicked you out, then you probably deserve to sleep on the ground tonight. Ciao, Sardine-breath." He zoomed off, the blast of wind knocking Snively on his ass.

"Pfft." He dusted himself off. "I should go charm the pants off the Princess just for that. Well, if she wore pants..."

He moved on, pausing outside a hut with immaculate flower bushes. He could almost smell the cologne that permeated the house like cat piss.

Why not. He knocked on the front door. After a moment, it opened with a blast of scented air.

"Good evening, Antoine. Is there any chance I could sleep here tonight?"

Antoine gave a smary, sweet smile. "Why, Snipley. I love having zee guests." He stepped back, beckoning inside graciously.

His bullshit meter dinged, but Snively went in anyway. Antoine reached past him to shut the door, and the smile dropped from his face. His whiskers quivered.

"You fuel. You dare to come here after you have upsetted Bunnie!"

Snively groaned. "My goodness, you animals are such gossips. Do you ever just keep things to yourself? We got in an argument -"

He was cut off by a fist to the chin. "Ow. Damn it!"

"Be glad I do not skewer you!" The fox hissed and pulled Snively from the door by the shirt front. "You are not even fit to sleep in my rosebush, connard!"

Snively yanked away and fumbled for the doorknob. He backed out onto the stoop. "Mange de la merde," he sneered, relishing Frenchy's surprised look before the door was slammed in his face.

He twisted his lips as the cool breeze blew across his bald head. Wandering again. Geoffrey and his friends were smoking by the pool now. That was a no go. He thought of asking Rosie. Maybe going back to Rotor's? He sat in the pavilion, but the roof overhead didn't alleviate the chill. I should have grabbed a blanket before I left Bunnie's...

His aimless feet took him to the object of his thoughts. He gazed upon Bunnie's hut.

I'll do what Sally said. I'll apologize. Grovel a little. She'll lap it up.

A strange pang radiated through his chest. It's not like you don't deserve to grovel. For what you said.

He scowled hard, imagining himself squashing that stupid feeling under his boot. I didn't say anything untrue! And these animals have caused every one of my broken bones. They can get stuffed.

He drew in an angry breath and stopped himself from knocking on her door. Instead, he opened it and stepped in, expecting to be instantly reprimanded.

She was not at her usual spot at the kitchen table or rocking chair. The lights were off except for her bedroom, where the door was ajar. He heard her voice.

Well, she isn't with Antoine. Unless he beat me over here?

Light on his toes, he snuck to the door. As he peeked in, he heard her mummer.

"Yer a monster."

He froze.

She was turned away from him, standing before her mirror. Her jumpsuit was a purple lump on the floor. He drew in a breath. With the reflection, and his position, he could see all of her.

"Ya know they think it too. Ain't just him..." She continued to beseech her glassbound twin.

She was the antithesis of Sally's slim, athletic form. The rabbit's hips were full, breasts heavy and soft.

His breath caught, not for rushing blood or rising lust, but for what lay hidden beneath her clothes.

Where her robotics meshed with her flesh, on arm and legs...ropey scar tissue edged the metal like rocks on a shoreline. He imagined a foreign body lodged in flesh, and the body encapsulating it, protecting itself from further harm.

Her body didn't much care for the invading metal, I suppose.

The process is supposed to be seamless. Sir Charles intended to save mangled limbs, replace worn out body parts. There should be no ill reactions with the flesh and metal.

...Yes, but Charles never perfected it. He gave up at the first setback. His silly idealism couldn't handle sacrifices that have to come with advancement...

His musing was derailed by a soft, pervasive sound. He refocused his hazy eyes, saw her hands lift to cradle her face and stifle her weeping.

He backed away from the scene. You did that to her. 

He moved quietly to the door, through her cozy, secure home. It was warm. It was safe.

Did what to her? Gave her powerful limbs that have helped her people? But she's not as pretty anymore?

He eased out the door, frowning and curling his lip, dredging up bitterness to combat the unease.

She has it good. All these animals have it good! They could live here hidden, forever in peace, but they chose to fight. That's on them!

He closed the door quietly and stood out on the stoop. The night breeze quickly chilled him. Or perhaps the coldness was coming from within.

It doesn't matter. Say you're sorry, just to get back in.

He stood there, idiotic, with his fist raised.

I'm sick of saying sorry.

The night deepened. The moons were mere slivers. Another gust made him shudder. He knocked on the door.

There was no answer and he knocked again. Finally, he saw her shadow behind the small window. She opened the door. Clothed again, her eyes were bright yet tired, her headfur freshly combed. She scowled.

"Ahh, so you finally crawled back here, huh? A mite too cold out there, Sugah?"

With this shit on, it is.

He held his tongue, plastering on a meek smile. "Miss Rabbot, allow me to apologize. I was out of line."

Her scowl took on a dark edge. "Since when do you care about that, now that yer uncle ain't here to knock yer block off for it? You get to say exactly what's on yer mind now, don't you?"

He cleared his throat. "I say things I don't mean."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yer nothin' but a lyin' snake. Ah think a little cold air could do ya good."

He opened his mouth, then closed it. A stab went through him at the accuracy of her words. Normally, the disdain would be received with relish, a satisfied rush. That he meant enough to evoke such ire. But the thrill didn't come. He took a step back, lowering his eyes. "Very well."

He didn't look back as he started to walk away.

"Snively, git back here."

He turned, confused. She beckoned inside.

"Ah didn't say to stay out there."

He silently headed in and sat awkwardly on the couch. She turned on the kitchen lamp. Her bedroom door was open, the interior still illuminated.

She put a kettle on for tea and then leaned her back against the counter.

"So you didn't mean what you said, huh. Well, then, Ah'm curious. What do ya think Ah do best, if it ain't hitting thangs with my metal fist?"

He hadn't prepared for this pop quiz. "Ahhh...cooking? Being...nice?"

She laughed, a short cynical sound.

"Nobody around here is...nice like you," he continued, lamely.

"Now you're tellin' fibs. Don't look at me and lie, tellin' me Ah've got a greater value beyond these metal parts. See, yer the only one who's come out and said it outright."

He thought of Securitybot #002. His friend and guard, but still only so because it was programmed to be. He could make another just like it, and another.

"Robots are a dime a dozen."

She frowned.

"Your parts are a convenience, but are they necessary? Are they something Motor couldn't duplicate? Or he could build an actual robot to work for you."

"So yer saying Ah have no use."

He drew in an irritated breath. Maybe sleeping outside was better than enduring this prattling. "So you're saying, if you hadn't been roboticized, you'd just be sitting back?"

She turned to get teacups and tea. Pouring, her voice was hard. "No, Ah wouldn't, but Ah wouldn't be much use either. You said it. All Ah'm good for, as Ah am now...is for these." She sighed and brought the tea to the table. "Come and get a cup."

He stayed on the couch, his body stiff. He felt clenched as a turtle in its shell, his insides burning with acid. I don't owe her anything, I don't owe her shit.

I didn't ask her to take me in. She did it to look like some shining knight, to wave her supposed mercy under everyone's nose.

She sat down. "It's nice and hot and you still look cold. Yer shivering."

It's why she didn't hit me. Keeping up the guise of a saint. It must be what she's doing. Who does anything nice for free..?

He felt locked. Inflated with vitriol. He growled, unable to withstand it. She needled him in a way Julian hadn't managed. "I said it to anger you. Hurt you. I said it because I knew it would!"

She lifted her cup and blew over the top.

His muscles relaxed enough for him to move. But he was wary. Maybe she wanted him over there so she could toss the scalding liquid in his face.

She took a sip and nodded. "That's obvious, Sugah." She patted the tabletop.

He came over, cautious, perched on the edge of the chair. She set down her cup.

"Relax. If Ah'd wanted to hurt you, Ah would've thrown ya clear out the door. Maybe a good kick to yer skinny rear."

The steaming liquid flowed through his cells, easing the chill away. He sipped for a long while. Keeping his mouth occupied seemed wisest, but when it was finally free he muttered. "If it's obvious...then why do you take it seriously? The things I say...? It's what I'm best at. Being a 'right git.'"

She leaned back. Shaking her head, her lips pursed. It was the type of look he'd imagine from Sally, that condescending disappointment. "You might be from Robotropolis, but you ain't a robot. Yer not an automaton. Are ya?"

He took a sip.

"You choose to say thangs. Nobody makes you. Ah'm askin', are you a robot?"

He didn't answer. I might as well be.

"Tell me why Ah shouldn't take it seriously, when you choose yer words calculated, on purpose...to do damage?"

He couldn't tell her why. There was no why. She was wrong. He was a shell on strings, each being yanked by the emotions inside. Hate dark as a thousand nightfalls, the bitterness of a million lemons, the anger deep enough to fill an ocean trench. He was nothing but a corpse being kept alive by those things, moving, talking, for their whims.

She got up and rummaged in the cold storage and he continued to sip, staring blankly at the tabletop. She set down saucers, forks and a cheesecake.

"Ah'm cravin' a snack. You?"

He shrugged. His sweet tooth rarely turned down sugar.

She cut two slices.

He silently cut off a small piece and let it melt in his mouth. The weight of her eyes was on him.

"Still waitin' for an answer."

"What do you want me to say?" He mumbled. "I...hurt people. It's...what I do. Would you blame a thorn for scratching you? Snow for making you cold?"

"No, but you ain't some inanimate object!"

He swallowed hard. "... But... It's... I can't say anything I haven't said. I... I don't know how to be any other way. This is why...I..."

And now anger rose up. How dare some fucking animal make him feel like this! Fumbling. Apologetic. Demanding of him, as if they had a right! Expecting him to engage in their foolish sentiments and sunlit lies! He set down the fork with a clink, hissing. "...this is why I just want to be bloody left alone."

He stood up, intending to retreat to the couch and the impenetrable shield of a blanket pulled over his face.

"Sit down. You better not be wastin' that cake."

He stood there, breathing like a bull.

"Sit that scrawny butt down!"

He dropped back into the chair.

She smiled slightly and ate a piece of cheesecake. He gripped the fork and glared at the delectable treat.

"No need for you to be mad, Sugah. You get a warm couch and cake. It's rough, Ah know."

She must be practicing sarcasm with Sally. He ate another piece. It was really good, but his enjoyment was muted. He almost wished he were back in the infirmary, drowsily listening to the beeps. Hopped up on meds, eating the Medibot's cherry gelatin with whipped cream. It had been strangely peaceful, he thought. Devoid of humanity and warmth, but devoid of anything cruel either.

Heaven, I guess. I didn't know what I had.

That almost made him laugh.

Bunnie sipped tea and ate her cake quietly for a few moments. Finally she spoke. "You ever heard of Robo Rage?"

He shook his head.

“Yeah, it's when the roboticized snap...when they start chantin' Robotnik's mantra and tryin' to capture or hurt us. They ain't people no more. Ah mean, we've really only seen Sugah-Chuck regain his will. And he slipped up a few times, before he got it back fer good. A few times, he tried to capture us, drag us to Robotnik. Villagers started callin' it 'Robo Rage'. That snap, that mindlessness.”

I'd just call it programming, Snively thought. But whatever.

Bunnie continued. “They don't want him here when he comes. They hate that he knows where we live. Many of 'em think it's only a matter of time until he turns on us."

He assumed 'Sugah-Chuck' was Sir Charles. He took a sip and didn't say anything. He doubted the robotic hedgehog would turn on the Freedom Fighters. Regaining his will had broken the programming. Broken programs didn't repair themselves.

She slowly licked cheesecake off the fork, lost in contemplation, and he had to look away. It was making him sweat again.

"Yer probably wonderin', what's my point? Well, Ah'm just the same to so many of 'em. I see 'em watching. Waiting for the day when I'm gonna snap and they can finally say 'we told you so, ya'll never should've let her live here. She's a monster."

He mumbled through a mouthful.

"Haven't Ah told you to stop muttering like that?"

"They sound like bloody idiots."

"Oh yeah?"

"How are you going to snap? And Sir Charles... He's gotten his will back; he's no longer under Robotnik's control."

Those green eyes were keen. "Sounds familiar, Snively."

He snorted and held up the wrist adorned with the tracking bracelet. "My will is hardly free. I was stopped from going where I wanted, remember?"

She ate the last of her dessert slowly. Setting down her fork, she brushed off her hands. “Fine. If you want to pretend yer a little robot...no accountability....just doin' what yer told...then Ah'll do it. Ah'll tell you what to do.”

He grunted.

“If you want to think that all Ah care about is my looks, and that's why Ah want to be normal again...then think it.”

He stuffed in another piece of cake.

“Say whatever you want to me. Ah can take it. Maybe yer just sayin' what everyone really thinks. That takes some nerve, that does.” Her eyes packed a punch nearly as hard as her fist. “But when it comes to Sally-girl, you're gonna stop. She's got a lot to worry about and you just do yer best to make it worse! Give her a break.” "

"I will if she does." He curled his lip.

"Ah mean it."

Her gaze pierced him. He tried to meet it, defiant, but his eyes dropped first. He saw her robotic hand on the table, imagined the scars under her clothes.

He took a breath. Mumbled, because she didn't like it. Because he didn't like the way he felt. "I'll try."

--

A/N: Ok, so I wrote the talk at breakfast and then the last bit with Snively and Bunnie eating cake separately, then I tied them together. I hope it didn't across disjointed. Anyway, I don't know how I feel about this whole scene, it seems boring to me but hopefully you all liked it. Meh!

[gohandinhand]

13, 19, 28! ☺️

13. first thing you’re doing in the purge? i'm a horror movie baby so i don't know how the purge is actually supposed to work, but like, very first thing? hide obviously i want to hide extremely well. and if i can manage a computer & internet connection i'd do some hacking to wipe out student or medical debt or smth. but first i want a panic room. (speaking of, panic room with lil kristen stewart 20 years ago permanently fucked me up)

19. the veggie you dislike the most? bell pepper/capsicum! i have some other mild dislikes due to texture things, but this one is purely on taste basis. can't stand it. which is actually so hard because the flavor permeates whatever it's cooked in so eating around it doesn't work well. frustrating on a day-to-day basis too bc almost all "veggie" flavor options now include bell peppers. and they're being included in foods that should just be tomato... take that capsicum OUT of my bruschetta or god have mercy on your soul

28. last meal on earth? oh because having to choose what i eat every day for the rest of my life isn't enough, huh? an extra helping of spiraling about choosing food, served up hot just for me anyway let's just go with what i requested for birthday dinner as a child: steamed artichokes & crab (with lemon butter for dipping ofc) and fried potatoes.

[dollythesheepp]

Veronica- Chapter 10

Ao3 

Dear Westerburg... You may find what I've done shocking ...

Instead of more details about Veronica's fight with her friend Heather, or lovestruck ramblings about JD, all Betty found when she turned the page were scratched out words, written in a different handwriting than the one she had become accustomed; the phrase occupied one line, and there was nothing else written on it. Betty furrowed her brows and turned the page.

Dear world... No one thinks a pretty girl has feelings.

Same thing. The sentences looked like drafts, as if Veronica was writing a letter and she just couldn't find the right words. What did she do that was so shocking?

Expecting another entry like that, Betty turned the page again, this time staring at Veronica's usual welcome in her messy, barely readable handwriting.

September 24th, 1989. Dear diary...

FUCK!

The single word was written in big, block letters, and it took over three whole lines on the page. Betty chuckled, finding that specific entry funny and very teenage like. She stopped chuckling when she got to the next paragraphs.

Dear diary...

I might as well stop sending my applications to ivy league colleges now, as I'm sure the only place I'll be attending next year will be San Quentin.

I can't believe I actually did that. I just killed my best friend (and my worst enemy, but there's a fine line between those two, as I've come to learn.)

It's been three hours, and I still haven't come to terms with it. Because how exactly do you process something like that? I'm sitting in my room, jumping at every noise my parents make downstairs , just waiting for the moment the police will come knocking on my door.

I can't talk to anyone, not Mom and Dad, not the Heathers (the ones that are still standing, anyway), and not even my freaking therapist. You're the only one I trust now.

What the fuck have I done?

Betty only realized her mouth was open when she started to feel her tongue dry; she closed it and blinked rapidly, snapping out of her shock. She adjusted her glasses on her face, and read everything again, to make sure her myopia hadn't somehow distorted Veronica's words and made them seem like something entirely different than what was in fact written.

That had to be a joke, right? Some sort of dare. Or perhaps Veronica was speaking in metaphors and hadn't actually meant killing her friend in the literal way.

Betty turned the page.

September 25th, 1989 Dear diary...

Heather Chandler's death has wreaked havoc throughout Westurburg. The student body is in shambles now that they've lost their queen.

Heather McNamara can't stop crying (in the moments when she isn't sucking face with Kurt Kelly or complaining about how unfair it is that we only got half a day off from school. Everyone grieves in their own way, I suppose..), Heather Duke has suddenly lost her urge to purge now that Chandler isn't here to comment on every calorie she ingests, Peter Dawson is bragging to everyone about how he was one of the last people to go on a date with the recently deceased Heather and Miss Fleming is in some weird sort of power trip, as if Heather's death awakened in her a need to change the world by forcing teenagers to talk about their feelings.

And me...well, I know that I rambled on about wanting to kill Heather, but I did not plan this. It's one thing to wish someone was dead and it's another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.

Having said that...If I had the chance to go back in time and undo what I did, I'm not sure I would have changed anything .

Betty blinked, her shock preventing her from expressing any other reaction. She closed the diary as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat and went to bed, finding herself unable to keep reading more.

That night, she didn't sleep.

***

Once the first rays of sunshine started to light up the guest room, Betty gave up on trying to sleep, after restless hours of tossing and turning all night. She stayed in bed, clutching her comforter and staring at the ceiling with a hundred thoughts running amok inside her head, and got up a few minutes after Martha arrived at 8:30; JD woke up shortly after, walking down the stairs already dressed for work.

As usual, Betty found herself in the routine she had established during her stay. She had breakfast, alone this time because JD was late for work and left with an empty stomach and a thermos full of coffee, then she went to the office to work. Seating in front of the computer, Betty couldn't keep her eyes off of the window, where she could see Veronica in the backyard with Martha. They were enjoying the sun as they usually did at that time because Betty wasn't the only one with a routine there.

As a matter of fact, most days in the Sawyer-Dean residence felt exactly the same, like they were all characters in a movie that was being played over and over again. JD would leave for work, Martha would take Veronica outside for a couple of hours and would read her a book or talk to her, then she was fed, cleaned, and Martha would put her back in bed and turn on the TV for her until it was time for her to go to sleep. Sometimes JD would take Veronica downstairs, once he got home, and he'd tell her about her day, other times he would go to her room and stay there with her for hours.

Betty couldn't help thinking about how she would feel in Veronica's position. How draining it must feel to be stuck in that repetitive pattern for the rest of her life. With that thought in her head, she got up and closed the curtains; she didn't want to think about Veronica.

She tried to focus on her job, but the words written in Veronica's diary kept coming back to her every time she closed her eyes. Veronica had killed someone. And according to what she wrote, she didn't feel sorry. Shocked maybe, and scared of getting caught and ruining her life, but she showed no signs of selfless remorse for ending the life of a seventeen year old girl who she had once called a friend.

Did JD know about that? Betty couldn't help but think that God certainly did, and that was why Veronica's life had turned out the way it did. Commeupance comes one way or another.

***

Eventually, Betty managed to forget about the diary for a few hours, her desire to finish her job serving as motivation for her to work faster. With the curtains closed, she didn't feel the hours go by, nor the sun go down until JD knocked on her door.

"Hey," he poked his head inside the office. "Just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm good, thanks," she smiled. She glanced at the swatch on her wrist. It was 6:15 p.m. "You're home early today."

JD fully entered the room, leaving the door slightly ajar after he passed. He gave a shrug. "Yeah, I managed to finish some things earlier," he said. "Do you like pasta? I know it's early but I'm starving."

"Same," Betty said. She managed to get through the day with three cups of coffee and one cereal bar, completely forgetting about lunch. "And pasta sounds great."

She followed JD to the kitchen, and she settled down on one of the chairs to watch JD cook. As always, he refused to let her help but after some insistence, he conceded and let her make the salad while he took care of the rest.

"Do you know what I realized?" JD spoke up after the two of them had finished eating. They were seated in the living room, a soccer game playing on the TV, while they rested from eating what felt like enough spaghetti to feed all of Italy.

"What?" Betty asked from her spot on the armchair. She had opted to not seat on the couch with JD; she didn't know how she would feel knowing that he was that close to her and she didn't want to find out. The daydreams and the indecent thoughts were enough.  IItwasnt even because of Martha, she had left earlier that day, but even so, Betty thought it was best to put some boundaries out of respect for JD.

"I talk so much about myself but I barely know anything about you," JD said. It was true, JD did talk a lot about himself but only because Betty asked a lot of questions, she didn't like being the center of attention and she enjoyed getting to know him, so it was always a win-win.

"There's isn't much to know," she said. "I don't have any interesting stories or anything like that."

"Just tell me anything. Where did you grow up?"

"Cleveland," she said. "And you just did the typical 'Oh, I'm so sorry for you'  expression I normally get when I say that."

JD laughed. "There are worse places if that makes you feel better."

Betty knew that Veronica had also been born in Ohio, in a small town called Sherwood but she was glad JD mention that; she didn't want to think about Veronica.

"Maybe a little."

"Good," he chuckled. "Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?"

"No, at first I wanted to be a doctor but I think that was just because every mom wants that for their kid, including mine," she said. "But I'm very squeamish when it comes to blood and all of that, so I changed my mind when I was like 10."

"And how old are you now?"

"Hm," Betty pursed her lips. She looked down at her watch again, the numbers indicating it was 11:45 p.m. She chuckled.  "You're not going to believe this..."

"What?" he asked curiously.

"I'm turning 30 in 15 minutes."

JD's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he said again. "Really?"

"Yep."

"What a crappy way to spend your birthday, with people you don't know and having to work all day," he said, giving her a sympathetic look.

"I've had worst birthdays," she shrugged.

"Stay right here," JD got up from the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to bake you a birthday cake," he said, already raiding the cabinets to get the ingredients.

"You don't have to do that, it's so late..."

"No, I insist. What kind of birthday doesn't have a cake?" he argued. "Just watch some tv, I'll be done before you know it."

"No way, I have to see that," Betty got up to follow him into the kitchen, unable to contain her smile. That was by far one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her.

50 minutes later JD placed a chocolate cake in front of her. He cut one slice for her and one for himself. The entire kitchen had been invaded by that delicious smell of freshly baked cake.

"This is really good," Betty said, after swallowing another big piece.

"I'll tell you the secret one day," he gave her a playful wink. "There's hm...there's some frosting on your face."

Automatically she placed her fingers on her face. "Here?" she asked.

"No, right here..." he leaned in closer, and gently put his thumb on the corner of her lips. He kept his finger pressed on her mouth for a second too long like he didn't want to let go. He was close, close enough that she could feel his breath on hers and smell his perfume.

Part of Betty was yelling for her to step aside, and get as far away from JD as possible before any of them could get hurt. Betty didn't listen. Instead, she ended the distance between them with a kiss.

He tasted like chocolate. At first, she thought JD would stop her, or pull away but he didn't. Betty was the one to initiate the kiss but JD was the one who took full control. And she allowed him because it felt so good.

It started slowly, but quickly things became intense, desperate. They both wanted it. She felt his hands running wild through her hips, her legs, her hair. Their lips were still touching, his tongue inside her mouth, her heart palpitating inside chest.

His kisses were exactly how Betty had imagined: explosive, ferocious, dangerous. And wrong. So wrong. But at that moment, neither of them seemed to care. It didn't matter that the hand fumbling with her shirt, desperate to yank it off, was the same hand that he wore his wedding ring, or that his wife was on the floor above. None of it mattered because it felt so right. And it felt so good.

She was thankful that Martha wasn't there anymore, otherwise, she would have heard them as they fiercely tried to quench their needs with each other.

Enthralled by it all, Betty didn't plan on stopping with just a kiss. She wanted more. And she probably would have gotten that, if it wasn't for the sound of something shattering on the second floor.

The noise startled the two of them, who broke apart instantly. JD looked at her, panting and his face red, with lipgloss smeared all over his face, and furrowed his brows, confused. A second later he was racing up the stairs in worry, Betty behind him.

He opened the door to Veronica's room and rushed inside, turning on the lights. He was still panting, but something inside Betty made her beloved that it was out of worry for Veronica's wellbeing, and not out of euphoria from the moment they had in the kitchen. And for a second she felt jealous of JD's invalid wife.

Veronica, as expected, was in bed. Her eyes were closed, it looked like she had been none the wiser about the whole commotion. How was it possible that the noise or JD storming inside her room didn't wake her up? Betty supposed she could be groggy from all of the medications she had to take, but still, she thought it was weird.

"Shit," JD's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she stopped staring at Veronica to look at him. On the floor, next to the window was a shattered vase, dozens of pieces, small and big, scattered all over the carpet.

"Did it fall on its own? How?" Betty wondered aloud, more to herself than to him.

"The window is open, it must have been the wind," he said. "Martha probably forgot to close it."

He tiptoed on the floor, trying to avoid stepping on the pieces of broken porcelain, and closed the window, making sure that it was locked this time.

Betty glanced at the sleeping figure on the bed. Veronica looked so peaceful, so fragile. She never would have guessed that Veronica had killed someone.

Betty swallowed the lump in her throat. "You're right, it must have been the wind..."

[femchef]

So today was the first day back for teachers (semester starts on Monday) and I was going over my notes from one of my classes and picking out things to share with another teacher who’s teaching the same class on one of our satellite campuses -

So anyway, does anyone want to read my lecture notes on thickening agents that I turned into a study guide (I wrote one up during the semester because we didn’t have any previously prepared materials because other instructors just skip or gloss over the chapter but I felt like it was worth the time to focus on the topic and also I’m a Nerd about stuff that makes things gooey).

You know what - I’m just going to post it under a cut below, because it’s fun and also an infodump.

**For context, even though my notes go into more specifics than the required reading, the book for the class is called How Baking Works by Paula Figoni (3rd edition, tbh needs an update but is a good reference), and the link I am telling them to refer to for more information on gelatin that includes conversion charts is here:

Thickening Agents Study Guide

1. Thickening vs. Gelling

1.1. Thickening = moving slowly, viscous, but still some movement while set

1.1.1. Either when sugars and proteins become loosely entangled or when water is absorbed and trapped by swollen starch granules, or when air bubbles in foams or fat droplets in an emulsion slow water movement.

1.2. Gelling = completely set, no movement whatsoever

1.2.1. When water and other molecules are prevented from moving around at all, usually when sugars and proteins bond or tightly entangle and form a larger network that entraps water and other molecules.

1.3. A number of thickening/gelling agents are interchangeable in different quantities.

2. Food-Grade Gelatin (Type A Gelatin) is produced by boiling or soaking pigskins in acid; the connective tissue breaks down into thick strands of collagen and thinner strands of gelatin

3. Powdered Gelatin is made from lower-grade pulverized sheets

4. For more information, take some time to view the attached link in blackboard and the conversion charts.

5. Vegetable Gums = polysaccharides that absorb large quantities of water and swell to produce thick liquids and gels. Veg Gums are a nice source of dietary fiber (think fiber one Powder added to drinks)

5.1. Pectin = present in all fruits

5.1.1. LM (low Methoxyl) Pectin = Also comes from citrus peels or apple. Used in low-calorie jams and jellies, relies on calcium rather than sugar to solidify. Suitable for dairy-based products. Becomes increasingly firm as calcium is added until it reaches saturation point, at which time it begins to reverse in process and soften.

5.1.2. HM (high Methoxyl) Pectin = Comes as Rapid Set or Slow Set; extracted from citrus fruit peels. Rapid-Set for products that require suspension; Slow-Set for recipes that require a smooth texture with no suspension (such as a jelly)

5.1.3. NH (Thermal Reversible) Pectin = Modified LMP; Requires sugar and acidity to gel (and less calcium), and can be melted, set and remelted – requires heat to activate properly. ‘NH’ because of the Ammonia Hydroxide treatment it receives to modify (NH3(aq))

5.1.4. Apple Pectin = Derived from apples. Usually sold as a powder, can be used as a gelling and thickening agent, as well as a stabilizer. Is high in healthy carbs, dietary fiber, sodium, manganese, copper, and zinc – which is why it is a common ingredient in health supplements and pharmaceuticals. Additionally used in laxatives for natural purgative qualities.

5.2. Agar = Is a polysaccharide extracted from either of two varieties of red algae (ogonori and tengusa); has gelling/setting properties that behave remarkably like animal protein. Less agar is required than gelatin, and agar has the benefit of holding shape at room temperature. Cannot be used to stabilize aerated products, and does not whip well.

5.3. Carrageenan = a family of sulphated polysaccharides, name comes from variety of red seaweed found off the Irish Coast termed “Irish Moss”. Typically used in conjunction with meat and dairy products, for which they work particularly well, in large-scale production for stabilization, thickening gelling and texturing.

5.4. Guar and Locust Bean Gum

5.4.1. Guar Gum = Extracted from the endosperm of Guar Beans (legume); does not self-gel like LBG, but is more soluble. Requires high temperatures, high ph and longer times to cause gelling. Low-cost alternative to many other agents and starches, and is 8 times more effective than cornstarch. Used commercially, and stays stable when frozen/thawed.

5.4.2. Locust Bean Gum = Extracted from endosperm of bean on Carob Tree. Dispersible in hot and cold liquid, and converts to gel with addition of minimal amount of sodium borate. Is naturally sweet and is typically used to sweeten foods and as a replacement for chocolate.

5.5. Gum Arabic = Acacia/Senegal/Indian/Sudani Gum = Harvested from Sap of two Acacia Tree Species. Primarily used as a stabilizer (such as in sodas and cosmetics).

5.6. Gum Tragacanth = derived from several species of legumes in the genus Astragalus (Tragacanth, lit. “Goat + Thorn”, which is common name). Largely produced/exported from Iran. Is viscous, odorless, and tasteless water-soluble sap. Traditional binder for pigments in artist’s pastels, and main gum used in fabricated Gumpaste.

5.7. Xanthan Gum = derived from a species of bacteria, Xanthomonas Campestris (same bacteria which causes a variety of plant diseases, such as black rot in brassicas and bacterial wilt in turf grass). Produced via fermentation of glucose and sucrose. Is used to stabilize emulsions (is not an emulsifier in itself). Also helps suspend solid particles in liquids. Commonly used as a thickener in egg white substitutes and to build matrix in gluten-free products where there is no gluten-development.

5.7.1. Shear Thinning/Pseudo-Plasticity: Non-Newtonian behavior of fluids who’s viscosity decreases under ‘shear strain’. Examples Ketchup and Salad Dressing.

5.8. Methylcellulose = “Modified Vegetable Gum” an emulsifier and bulk-forming laxative. Unique property of Setting when Hot and Melting when Cold – commonly used in ice creams for this reason.

6. Starches = Starch molecules are polysaccharides that are arranged in one of 2 ways: either as long, straight chains or as short, but highly branched chains.

6.1. Amylose = long, straight chain starches

6.1.1.  Clouds when cooled

6.1.2.   Firm, heavy-bodied gel when cooled

6.1.3.   Not freezer stable

6.1.4.   Thicker cold than Hot

6.1.5.  Masks flavors

6.2. Amylopectin = short, branched chain starches

6.2.1.   High Clarity

6.2.2.   Thickens, but does not Gel

6.2.3.   Less Likely to weep over time

6.2.4.  Less likely to weep when thawed (more freezer-stable)

6.2.5.  Same thickness hot or cold

6.2.6.  Less likely to mask flavors

6.3. Cereal Starches = extracted from endosperm of cereal grains

6.3.1. Cornstarch

6.3.2. Rice Starch

6.3.3. Wheat Starch

6.3.4. Waxy Maize

6.4. Root Starches = Extracted from roots/tuber plants

6.4.1. Potato Starch

6.4.2. Tapioca Starch

6.5. Modified Food Starches = Starches treated with one or more chemicals to possess more desirable properties or results. (i.e. increased stability with excessive heat/acid, texture, speed of setting)

6.5.1. Corn

6.5.2. Potato

6.5.3. Arrowroot

6.5.4. Tapioca

6.5.5. Waxy Maize (clear and clearer tasting)

6.5.6. Instant Starches = pregelatinized or cold-water swelling (jello cold pudding mix).

6.6. Refer back to previous chapters about gelatinization of starches

6.7. Refer to chart 12.5, pg. 337 for a comparison of properties

Homework: 1-30, Ch. 12

[zumpietoo]

My Weekish on Buy Nothing...

The desperation to ditch my table led me to try something ELSE a little over a week ago....and, I approached it with heavvvvyyyyyy skepticism....the person recommending it was my sister-in-law (who likes everything that she thinks she came up with), insisting she’d “found everything she could ever possibly need there”.....I can fully assure everybody.....ummm.....noooo....not even remotely.

But still, desperate, so I pursued it anyway.....

Thus far? Unsurprisingly, a verrryyyy mixed bag. And it seems that my smaller local group IS actually much better than the “no rules” one (tho I have ditched quite a few things there.....

It was still Craigslist that got my table gone.....(as always, patience and dealing with a lot of scammy aggravation will eventually yield somebody.....and I did appreciate they honored almost all my terms, even if today they DID try and get another two chairs outta me. I responded with a polite, but verrrryyyyy clear and firm “no”).

And, honestly? The purge boxes thus far haven’t moved much (apparently peeps will go whole hog if you do an individual offer of each, I can’t be bothered....take it, don’t take it....) and one of the peeps who showed up was entitled enough to leave a mess....dude, put it back in, WTF?

Also, largely and predictably, it’s a combo of moar peeps asking (especially in the no rules) AND a lot of the offers are kids’ things (I get that).....

But to summarize:

The Good

Actually this first one is beyond excellent----I asked for “help” in the form of somebody to come over with their circular saw and shave 3 inches off something I wanted to turn into a shelf for my armoire linen closet. I should qualify I made a point of noting this was a big ask, I understood, blah, blah, blah....Dude replied really fast he was happy to do it, came over last Saturday, done in 3 minutes, having a shelf, finally, made me fucking giddy. Offered a brownie and couldn’t thank him enough.

Alsooo, lady short on $$$ looking for, ideally, Mickey Mouse stuff for her little girl’s bday. I happened to be rearranging/cleaning my Disney guest room....what started as one thing, evolved into a whole bunch. She was super nice and appreciative....

I got (from, again, my local group) a couple of minor free things, but it was nice of them, etc. I made a point of thanking them afterwards....

The Bad:

I found a nearly untouched/full gallon of pink paint--plus another open one for a lady looking for “tween things”. I added in a pair of vintage vanity lamps I’d been thinking of ditching for awhile. I even put the almost full gallon in a box with topper that I’d had a recent paint purchase delivered in. I left her name on a piece of paper in the bag....when she approached, she texted, “did you make sure and seal everything up??” Which, dude, free, etc...She left trash in front of my house, tossed the paper back on the porch and since she did get paint on her hand from the open can, she left paint on my porch railing. No thank you afterwards anywhere....

Surprisingly local, the lady who left a mess after going thru the free boxes (really, you can’t put it back?)----even tho I was out beforehand, introduced myself and said I might be able to help in the fall with a different request she had (not anymoar!)

A young woman endlessly posting about being desperate for somebody to take her cats while she goes to Hawaii to secure housing.....this would be for 10 days minimum....granted, I wasn’t really all that anxious to do it, but I try to be a decent person, etc. I made a point of advising I have 6 cats and they’re varying level of jerk....and that I would keep her cats inside for safety reasons. Her reply, “well thanks but those are too many red flags” (yes, seriously, “red flags”).

A young woman desperately posting for anyyyyyy clothing, cuz soo desperate. Directed her to THAT purge pile, (we were about the same size and there was NEW stuff in there). She took like maybe 2 items, after having me check and double check that clothing was still there....

A lot of peeps with free asks (not just me) but expecting really pristine shit....one woman legit posted today about wanting a rug, but “would probably be really picky about it---hope that’s okay”. How astounding nobody’s replied yet!

So, all in all? I do like, locally, it overall creates a sense of community, but I also kinda think I’ll probably go back to just “free stuff” on craigslist/donating to the Vets for pick up, etc...

[starvette]

T 11-13/90 51.8

I got paid and suddenly I have so much to do there's time only for brief stenographies of my days.

11 I weighed 51.6. Mom got me sweet cherries and a piece of smoked cod. Both were excellent. But not excellent enough for me to stop freaking out and tweeting at him. Mom checked how my hair removal has been going on the back of my thighs and said it was much better. Then she proceeded to make gnarly comments about how I am perfect the way I am. I did my arm weight workout for the first time in a long time and read a great many KP posts. I've been really enjoying sunbathing and took some decent selfies after today's session. Acne is starting to come back without any sweeteners.

12 The tweet worked! Sort of. I'm still depressed and blasting Married in Mount Airy. Right when things had started to get peaceful again, mom comes crying in my room - dad is being mean again. I force myself to put it out of my mind because if they're two old fucking adults who have always been so much smarter than me, well then why the hell can't they figure it out between themselves. I obviously have enough to worry about that nobody else ever EVER worries about. For example, my neighbor granny's imprisoned cat. While making gas safety rounds at noon I notice she has put up a sort of mosquito net in front of her window. It's obviously for her cat. Is that how he escaped last time? I read a giant article about the lab leak theory. Probably took me way too long. Then I read in the news that a girl has been beat up in the face by a gang of teenagers in town center late at night. Makes me queasy about running. I stayed in, ate two bags of frozen bean pods and watched the idol. Tomorrow is planned binge day which I'm disgustingly excited for, but I couldn't wait, I had to see it right away so I had only those beans for a movie snack.

13 The most amazing thing happens. I get paid! I tell him I love him. Depression lifts right away. I actually worked out and then went out to get those damn pastries. I got three almond croissants, two vegan cinnabuns, one nutella danish, and one regular croissant. ...aaand... They're kind of dry. They're not that great. I get full fast and don't even want the rest. What I want is to throw all this crap up. I tried doing that but I just got a few wet crumbs out. Maybe they'd already digested?! Anyway. It's clear that I truly cannot purge. I swear off any more binges ever again. Like, I really fucking regret this one. I have two leftover pastries. Don't even want them at all. Gonna gift to mom. In the afternoon I hear a terrible bellowing outside. She must have opened her window and her cat is pleading to get outside? It honestly breaks my heart. Well, then I tell myself I have to save myself before I can save anyone else, sunbathe, and I. finally. fucking. get. finasteride. I was extremely pleasantly surprised by the price. That made me feel a lot more hopeful and positive about this whole fin ordeal looming ahead. When I got home, mom was finishing up bathing and told me that dad has mellowed out and is sweet again. We decided to give him my leftover pastries as reward. And just maybe they'll kill him a bit sooner. I've started wearing skirts around the house for the KP. After all, pants, especially those made of plastic, aren't natural at all. Nor is sitting. When I don't feel like wearing a skirt I'll just imagine I'm living with a sexual deviant dominant daddy who's ordered me to wear skirts at all times. But it's been pretty easy now since it's 25 degrees inside.