#first...i need to be done with this degree in the next 6 months

[the-everqueen]

...

[basil-does-arttt]

Devil May Cry 2. The pimple-faced teenager of the series, widely regarded as the worst game in the franchise.

While yes i agree with this viewpoint to some degree, and i think all the jokes about it being the worst one are funny... i honestly dont think the game is THAT bad. In fact, i think people give it too much shit.

Ill start out by saying this: no, the game isnt amazing. Its under-developed, rushed, and in no way is it up to the same standard as the other 4 games. Im not saying its this perfect game, but its not as horrible as some make it out to be.

Ive played through the game on the original PS2 version and the remastered version, and although im yet to complete Lucia's campaign, i can confidently say the game is mediocre at worst really.

First the gameplay: Boring? Yes. Definitely. Do you like standing in one place and shooting everything for 15 minutes untill it drops dead? This is the game for you. But you dont have to do that, it just happens to be the easiest option because the controls are so jank. I spent (some) time myself learning the combos, turns out it depends on the way you angle the joystick, and once you get the hang of it, its not that difficult to S rank combat encounters at all. Its annoying, but not impossible, and the combos can honestly look pretty cool imo.

The movement is also another thing, the dodge animation takes way too long to perform but i do like the forward dash. Its a nice alternative to using stinger as a makeshift movement dash, i wish they kept it for furture versions of Dante. (Yes i know theres the trickster dash, but he doesn't do a flip)

I also really love the flying mechanic with aerial heart, and the different kinds of core thingies you could combine as a whole. A unique feature that kinda got combined into other things in Dante's design.

A few of the bosses, if they had been fleshed out and maybe balanced a bit better, could've been just amazing too. Furiataurus for example. One boss i feel was done well though was The Despair Embodied, and although you can just stand around and shoot it to death like everything else, you do actually have to put effort in to not get hit and die. (Trismalga is also kinda in that boat too, a well(ish) done fight you actually have to put effort into, but i personally didn't like it.)

Next, level design: You have to admit they did some cool things with the level design. *some*. The whole "grungy city" vibe is something i found very interesting, and the trippy purple iteration of lower town was, while infuriating to navigate thanks to the camera and graphics (esp on the ps2 version), was actually quite neat. I also really liked the clock tower in Lucia's campaign.

And also, the music. Can i just say, i think dmc 2's soundtrack is my favorite one out of all 5 games. The ambient background tracks are almost dreamy, especially Lucia's ones, the boss themes honestly go hard and the piano track that's repeated throughout the whole soundtrack just sounds good. If you take anything away from this post, its that you should listen to the soundtrack. (I reccomend the tracks "Unholy Relics", "Cry for the Moon", and "Shoot the Works")

The character designs are another thing i think they did well in this game. In my humble opinion, Dante's dmc 2 style is the best looking one in the whole series. Lucia also looks quite cool, her devil trigger form especially.

The characters themselves, Dante especially, need work, but might i remind you the developers were rushed when making this game. They didn't have enough time to do everything they wanted to do, 6 months before the game was supposed to release they didn't even have it in working condition. It was only thanks to Itsuno stepping in as the director that we got this game in the first place, and all he could do was salvage what the team had already created and get it in a releasable state before launch.

If only they had a bit more time (and maybe resources), dmc 2 couldve been quite the cool game. Though, on that note, if it werent for dmc 2's catastrophic faliure and Itsuno's prompt pestering for a sequel so the franchise didn't die outright, we wouldn't have gotten dmc 3. Though i think Capcom would've made a 3rd game regardless of the scenario.

All in all, i dont think dmc 2 is that horrible of a game. If you have the remaster collection, or even the original PS2 version, at least try it. Give it a go, play through the first few missions and kill one or two of the bosses.

Don't take it seriously, just have fun and enjoy the game in all its janky half-finished glory. If you look at dmc 2 that way, i think you'll enjoy it a whole lot more.

Or dont. Yknow, its your choice.

[osarina]

I LOOOOVE SELFSHIP AUs!!! will you tell me about some (or all!) of yours? 👉🏾👈🏾

HAHAHHH OKAY NOT ME TAKING A WEEK TO ANSWER JUFHUIDFHSUDF i sat here for hours trying to figure out which one i wanted to talk about cuz i have like 6 main ones that i float between HAHAH but three of them i've written/am writing - pm, waterloo, & my incoming fyozai series - but i have ONE that i dont think im ever gonna write so im gonna tell you about that one

so in this one, me and dazai met at the ada. i joined like 2 months before he joined and we just ... did not get along at first. like we weren't necessarily HOSTILE to each other, but we weren't all buddy buddy yk. i just gave him the cold shoulder for the most part and he pretty much treated me the same way he treated kunikida with the teasing but LOL it was much less ... teasing i guess, there was always an edge to it that was like "oh! he meant that! that wasn't a joke!"

^^ that all stemmed from the fact that neither of us trusted the other. like obviously dazai came to the ADA after his 2 years underground after defecting from the port mafia and i had my own shady background with the underworld. and we could both like ... sense that about each other so we kept each other at arm's length because 1) we didn't want the other to actually figure it out and 2) we both felt threatened that the other would expose us

despite all of that, we worked well together. i was usually partnered with tanizaki and dazai obviously with kunikida, but we did frequently go on missions with each other courtesy of fukuawa trying to get us to stop being dicks to each other. it did work to some extent; we were still stand-offish with each other but to a much lesser degree.

eventually the turning point of our relationship comes when my past ends up catching up to me like 8 months after he joined the ada. we'd been on a mission together and he made sure that my past didn't up getting exposed to the rest of the agency which is something id been scared about happening, so it was really like the first foundations of trust between us.

and after that mission LOLLL the entire agency is like ?? what on earth .. because we go from barely tolerating each other's presences to pretty actively hanging around each other. we still don't like .. talk frequently, but dazai will wait for me to get done with work to walk back to the apartments with me and i usually will go down with him to the cafe for lunch. and its honestly kind of nice because now that he pretty much knows, i dont really need to keep up that front around him and it's the same for him - he doesn't have to put on that whole facade of a clown around me - so it's kind of a decompress time for us both.

and i think the next big turning point from (almost) friends to (almost) lovers is when dazai has his first major depressive episode at the agency. he disappears for like days and i stay up waiting for him to come back and eventually he does. he's a wreck when he comes back, covered in grime, freezing, hungry, and still hasn't fully pulled out of the episode so i just lead him into my dorm and help him get cleaned up. we don't really talk or anything but we don't really need to.

so after that, our relationship goes from hanging around each other pretty frequently to pretty much all the time. and this is like a whole soap opera to the rest of the office LOL they just watch us get closer and closer and yosano and naomi are placing bets on when we'll finally get together. it's been about a year since he joined the agency atp and it takes another SIX months for us to get together (it's a slowburn truly) and it happens one night when the two of us are drinking and we both finally start talking about our pasts. like we'd KNOWN about each other's past but we didn't know any of the details until now.

by the time atsushi joins, we've been together for like 6 months and yosano thinks its so funny because she's like "did u know these two hated each other for like almost a year and atsushi is like ??? i dont believe you LOL

[babygirlbenji]

can't take my eyes off you - mason mount | ch 1

this has been inspired by one of my favourite songs ever! can't take my eyes off you by moreton harket, listen here <3 i think i kinda went to town on this one, i promise there will be more mason x reader content in the next chapter! enjoy!

wc 1.9k

You can vividly remember the day you knew you wanted to be a sports journalist. You were 6, at a football match with your dad, and you were watching the journalists interview the players after a big game. Declaring to your father that you wanted to be ‘the person with the big stick thing’ (he assumed you meant the journalists), and despite his worries that you would be out of your depth, being a woman in a very much male-dominated environment, he assured you that he and your mother would do their best to make sure you got to wherever you wanted to be.

Just as your mum and dad had promised, you graduated with a degree in journalism and media studies at the University of Portsmouth. Your dad was with you every step of the way, from your orientation day right up until you walked across the stage to receive your degree. He had beamed up at you as you smiled proudly for your photo, scroll in hand. 

All of these moments led up to your first few days of interning at BBC Sport. You were the bottom of the pack, the runt. If the producer wanted coffee, you got it. No questions asked. If the director needed a different camera, you ran to get it. If the editor needed a re-take, you were the one to break the news to the producer, and dealt with the brunt of the shouting. It gave you a thick skin, and built character, as you laughed about it with your family at the end of the day. 

Little did you know that this moment, in turn, would lead to you finding the love of your life. 

‘Y/L/N!’ Your boss barked from his office. You loved your job, but you couldn’t help but feel that your genuine talent was being wasted. You had been there for three months, and the most you had done was assisted with editing a package for some golf competition. You wanted to be out in the field, you wanted to be meeting players, you wanted to be networking, doing actual journalism. Nevertheless, you hurried into your boss’s office. 

‘Yes?’ 

‘Olivia is going to Stamford Bridge to do a package for the Premier League, are you in?’ Your mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. ‘Well?’ His tone was brash; you hated being spoken to like this. 

‘Yes, yes! Of course!’ He instructed you to take a camera and microphone in case Olivia’s equipment broke, so you ran to the kit room, hurriedly packed a kit bag and ran out to the car park. 

You had worked with Olivia, one of the lead BBC Sport journalists, only a handful of times. She was very nice, knew and loved her job, and enjoyed nurturing people who were new to the industry. 

‘Y/N, hi, the boss told me you were shadowing me today.’ You hoped your nervousness didn’t convey too much in your smile. 

‘Yep, you’ve got me today! Stamford Bridge, right?’ 

‘Indeed! You ready to go?’ Olivia checked she had everything in the back of the car, before hopping in on the driver’s side.

‘Absolutely!’ 

The drive to the Bridge took about half an hour, and Olivia was soon pulling up into the visitor’s car park. Nerves were fluttering around in your stomach, but you pushed them away. This was your chance to prove that you had what it took to be a BBC Sports journalist, something you’d been dreaming about for over a decade. You weren’t about to let this opportunity go just because you were nervous.

You and Olivia were shown around the premises, her asking questions to your guide about the best places to film, while you were staring in awe at the beauty of it. It may have been one of England’s oldest stadiums, but it was still stunningly beautiful. You could practically feel the years of history looking down at you. 

What you didn’t realise was someone was staring in awe… at you. You’d reached the pitch, which was so much bigger than it did on TV, and there were a few footballers at the other end of the pitch. You heard snippets of the plan for today, things about angles, lunch breaks, which footballer was going to be interviewed and when… 

‘Here we are, boys, this is Olivia and Y/N, ladies, I’m sure you know who these boys are already but just to avoid any confusion, this is Ben Chilwell, Reece James, and Mason Mount.’ You shook hands with all of them, Mason’s eyes lingering on you just a fraction of a second longer than they should have done. You missed this completely, though, having focused your attention back on Olivia as she ran the footballers through what the plan for the day was. 

First came general shots of the boys walking through Stamford Bridge, down the grandstands, onto the field and ready for their interviews, which came second. Your job was simple: assist Olivia. 

‘Right, Mason and Ben, if you want to start walking towards Reece, you need to act like you’re meeting each other at the start of the day. Think bro hugs, fist bumps, big smiles, that sort of thing.’ The boys obediently followed Olivia’s instruction, and you were secretly glad you weren’t the lead journalist on this one, because the boys somehow always managed to find ways to make each other laugh and ruin the shot. 

Eventually, Olivia had reached her limit and she called for a short break. Which meant that she got to sit down for 15 minutes, while you tidied up the gear and made sure the camera was charged up ready for the next few shots. 

‘Hey,’ a somewhat-nervous voice came from behind you. You squeaked slightly, turning around and then wishing you hadn’t squeaked. Mason Mount was standing behind you, a small smile teasing his lips. ‘How come you’re not taking a break like your colleague?’ You shrugged.

‘I’m an intern, so I don’t really get any breaks.’ You sounded like a complete loser, but you couldn’t help it; he was so handsome. You had seen interviews with him, you had stalked his Instagram the night before, and he still took your breath away in person. His brown eyes were like chocolate fondant, and they made you gooey in the middle just like your favourite dessert. ‘It’s okay, though, it gets me experience and connections, and that’s what I’m here for! Not everyone earns tens of thousands of pounds a week.’ You hadn’t meant to say the last bit. You meant to think it. Not say it. Out loud. ‘Oh my god, that came out wrong. Oh no, I’m sorry, that was so rude, I’m sorry…’ You skirted away from Mason and ran towards Olivia. Mason looked at your retreating back. What you had said was right. He didn’t think it was rude. 

Mason looked back at Ben and Reece; 

‘You alright, hun?’ She asked lightly as she took a bite of her chocolate muffin.

‘How much more do we have left to do?’ She laughed. 

‘We finish when we finish. No time limit to journalism.’ Your shoulders sagged. 

‘I said something I shouldn’t have said.’ 

‘Oh well, everyone fucks up sometimes, babe. Think about how many journalists he meets a month, he’ll probably have forgotten your name by tomorrow.’ 

The break ended, and you and Olivia went back to work. The boys were, by and large, much better behaved in this session, to your relief. Throughout the session, though, you couldn’t help but notice that your eyes wandered back to Mason every spare chance they got. It wasn’t like you could control it; it just… happened. And you couldn’t help but notice that Mason’s eyes often came back to you. Olivia directed him to walk towards the camera, and you were standing behind her. His eyes stayed practically glued to you the whole time. 

You practically sighed with relief when Olivia started to put her stuff away. You followed suit, collapsing the tripods, turning off the cameras and making sure to put the memory cards in their holders. 

‘Right guys, thanks for today. Nice to meet you all. Package should be out by the end of next week.’ You all shook hands, and you noticed your hand tingling after Mason shook it. Olivia started striding towards the exit, and you turned to follow her, but you felt a hand take yours and pull you back.

‘Y/N…’ Your eyes looked up to meet Mason’s. ‘It is Y/N, isn’t it?’ 

‘Y-yes, or Y/N/N for short, if you prefer that.’ You didn’t know why you added the last part. Nerves did that to you. ‘And I’m sorry. For what I said earlier. It was out of order and so unprofessional, I’m sorry.’ He chuckled.

‘Don’t worry, love, we all say things we don’t mean sometimes. Doesn’t mean it’s not true though, you’re right.’ You smiled shyly. His pet-name made you weak at the knees (not that you would ever openly admit that), and he seemed like a really genuine guy. The kind of guy your mum would like you to bring home. ‘I can keep an ear out for jobs here if you would like? You seem talented.’ You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows.

‘And you know this how…?’ He joined in with your cheeky laughter, your eyes dancing with mirth. He could listen to your laugh for hours on end and not grow tired. 

‘I am the all knowing power of media, didn’t you know?’ 

‘Alright Mason, back to football.’ It was so easy to laugh with him. Now you’ve passed the initial awkward stage, you could see more and more of your traits in him. You couldn’t help but want to learn more and more about him. 

He could tell you were guarded, and he guessed that you had been burned before. He wanted to treat you right, like the most fragile piece of glass that would break if he so much as moved it an inch. 

‘Do you want to maybe get a…’ His sentence was cut off by Olivia shouting your name across the pitch. You suddenly remembered that you were on the clock. 

‘Oh god, I’m sorry, I need to go, I’ll see you soon!’ He was about to call after you as you ran off, to try and get your number, but you had surprisingly good pace. He made a mental note to challenge you to a sprint when he next saw you. 

You sat in the car with Olivia, who kept looking over at you. 

‘Alright, what is it?’ you asked, semi-teasingly. ‘Out with it, come on!’ She laughed. Although she was 20 years older than you, she had the air of a teenager sometimes. 

‘You, Mason, Mason, you…’ She teased back. 

‘Oh come on, he’d never go for someone like me. He just flirts with everyone, I’ve read the articles.’ 

‘Y/N, he could not take his eyes off you. Surely that counts for something?’ 

Her words echoed in your mind as you crawled down the motorway, which had slowed to a walking pace with all the roadworks going on. It made you think of one of your dad’s favourite songs.

You’re just too good to be true,

Can’t take my eyes off you,

You’d be like heaven to touch,

I wanna hold you so much,

You’re just too good to be true,

Can’t take my eyes off you…

You knew that you would meet Mason again. It was just a matter of time.

[r4v3nr0s3]

HELLO!

SEPTEMBER 22 is my B-day, I am trying to get my completed series THE EMERALD FORMULA, published.

So I’ve started a GoFundMe! Please check out my story below and if you could like, share, or donate it would mean everything to me.

LEARN MORE BELOW

I'm Raven Rose a queer, Latino, chronically ill, and disabled author and artist. Welcome to my journey as I get ready to be on my own for the first time in 15 years, go back to school, try to get on federal disability in the United States, and get my first novel published. September 22 is my Birthday month so if anyone is feeling extra festive, in lieu of gifts, I'd appreciate help here!

I’m restarting from scratch after a near decade of health problems, and despite great efforts to re-etner the workplace, 6 months time doing what I used to love, put me back in the hospital. For more about me visit my web page !

My lifelong dream has been to become a writer, but I can't do it alone. You can help me reach my goals and achieve my wildest dreams, and I could not be more grateful! Please do whatever you can do - like, share, and/or donate. I'm finally investing in myself and I believe my ideas and this story deserve investment too, so that's why I'm asking for your help.

Now for the goods!

THE EMERALD FORMULA is a series I've been working on close to 20 years.

The Working BLURB for novel 1 is as follows:

Renata Salcedo has never made a wave in her life. In the last few years though, she's broken up with her long term boyfriend, moved into her own place, and was diligently working towards the career of her dreams: a spot at the Smithsonian.

Fine... Adrenaline Junkie, Renata was not. She learned to stay small and figured out how to move quietly enough to stay unnoticed and survive. But it wasn't like she was unsuccessful. Her carefully planned path of baby steps lead her to exactly where she wanted to be: living her boring life and people leaving her alone to do her job. If anything, the job provided her all the excitement she needed. Unearthing old civilizations? Cataloguing the past through objects and art? Thrilling stuff! All done from the safety atop of an orthopedic pillow from behind a desk.

There was only one teensy problem with Renata's goals.

An entire world she knew nothing about existed right under her nose, and it's going to disrupt her boring little life whether she's planned for it or not. And really she can't complain too much, as it all starts with one of her absolute, most favorite things...

A Book

(Story EXCERPT at the bottom too)

REALM OF MATTER is the first novel in a complete 3-Book series called THE EMERALD FORMULA. At this point, the series needs refinement and editing, so both developmental and line editing. Funds will go towards paying the editors. Whatever is left over will go towards my publishing goals, and my intent to get an art degree and start doing marketing and making book covers. The three mock ups below were all created by me in Vector and Photoshop.

This Epic tale is a paranormal adventure with elements or horror, humor, fantasy, and an underlying slow burn human/humanoid monster romance. It features a diverse cast of human characters who break the mold of the Hero's Journey, and reject its sanctity all-together.

Its universe is heavily based on the History of science, magic, and folklore, focusing mainly on Pagan and Catholic mythology to give this Hero's journey a darkly poignant and comedic edge that digs in and punches up. The magical system is highly elemental, and dives deep into Alchemical and Spiritual theory from thousands of years ago. All of the artwork you see was done by me, a self taught artist (thought I'd like to go back to school next year).

I created my own language and phonetics system, also an alphabet.

All so I could make these transmutation circles based on sacred geometry.

YOU CAN READ CHAPTER 1 HERE

THE EMERAD FORMULA: REALM OF MATTER is a snarky thriller that features a bunch of traumatized, relatable saps often thrust into magical and extraordinary circumstances with not much but found family and magic on their side. But if they can't find hope in a hopeless situation against the ultimate evil, no one can. If you vibe with sacrilege, and enjoy flawed, funny characters, family antics, awkward slow burn romances, complex but accessible lore, legacy heroes, ancient monsters, chaos, magic, and mayhem? You've found the series for you.

Please do whatever is accessible to you: liking, sharing, and donating are all extremely important to make this project a reality. This means a lot to me and I greatly appreciate your support.

Thank you for your time,

Raven Rose

[gren-arlio]

Folks, one and all, Welcome to Episode 4 of (Waku) Puyo Extras, along with some fairly big announcements again.

(There's no real context for these images. They're basically title cards and the table of contents.)

Hello everyone, and welcome to the fourth installment of Waku Puyo Extras, the filler series before I start Arle's route where I post things about this game, what I can find, and maybe even another game sometimes if I really feel like it. The more lore, the better, eh? After getting verified into the English Puyo Puyo Community Discord, I've been speaking there while doing this sort of stuff.

I'll start off with a quick announcement, a time change, if you will.

Yes. I will translate Arle's route. WHEN though is a bit...in the air. I know I said in a week or so, but... School is starting soon, and obviously, I won't be having as much time as I usually do making this stuff, so I decided ahead of time to prepare.

It's basically certain that I won't be posting every week. Maybe sometimes, but there might be a post every 2 weeks, or longer if needed. School and home life is more important after all. Even in a rare case of me not posting for a while, I'll still be quietly working. In that scenario, I'll again mostly, if only, post on weekends. I don't want this stressing me out, after all.

There's a chance I may be taking a hiatus during that time. Even I need breaks sometimes, and I also want to make time for my friends, family, and my education.

Basically, expect my schedule to be fucked up from now on. Hope you'll understand. I'll try to keep a schedule though.

So with this, what're we covering today? Simple, really.

A new video. About the latter half since I've done the first half on Episode 1 of Extras.

This really won't be factual stuff, but me talking about Lagnus as a whole. (Madou Saturn, Puyo Chronicles, etc) Consider the 2nd parts of these to be...random trivia, games, etc. Spices things up. The manga section will be for next time...didn't have enough time.

With that, let's talk about what'll happen today.

Whole new video.

Thing is about this video, I did...half of it already. It's the first Extra episode actually, the one where Witch sees Schezo and blasts him and me with the ♡'s. The latter half is with the OTHER 2 protags, which is the part I'm properly translating.

(Also the song for the Battle Castle is actually alluding me to an annoying degree, I'm still trying to find the song.)

Timestamps:

Satan 1 (Rulue): (22:13)

Battle Castle Explanation (Rulue): (22:44)

Succubus Boss 1 (Rulue): (23:12)

Witch Trade (Rulue): 25:25)

Satan 2 (Arle): (26:03)

Battle Castle Explanation 2 (Arle): (26:32)

Succubus Boss 2 (Arle): (27:05)

Witch Trade 2 (30:15)

God, Witch acting normal is gonna be so uncanny to me now after like 6 months of working on Schezo Story. I'm used to her being a menace to society.

With that little remark, hope you enjoy.

Satan 1 (Rulue): (22:13)

Rulue:

What the!?

Minotauros:

Umo!? (God I still do not like this bozo)

Satan:

Well...there's the last tower.

Rulue:

Oh, Satan!? (Here I believe she says the one honorific with someone who's highly respected/they like. San? Kun? Don't fully know.)

Satan:

The magical item is in that tower.

Rulue:

Is that so?

Satan:

W-well, I think so...

Rulue:

...?

Satan:

No, hahaha...it must be in there! (Can also be interpreted as "Must've been the wind!")

Rulue:

If I can get my hands on that magical item, I'll finally be able to have magical powers...

Minotauros:

Master Rulue?

Rulue:

Darling Satan... ♡♡ (And thus, they return...)

I'll certainly come back with the magic item!

Satan:

Oh, you're motivated. Keep it up, and do your best.

Rulue:

Yes, Satan. ♡ (again an honorific here. I think San?)

Minotauros:

...

------

Battle Castle Explanation (Rulue): (22:44)

Succubus:

Welcome. Nice to meet you in such a place.

Rulue:

Oh...who are you? Are you the boss of this place?

Succubus:

I'm a Succubus. I guess I'm the boss of this place here.

I'm not trying to lure in people...I'm an usher.

Rulue:

Well...let me ask you this, what is this place?

Succubus:

Huh? You haven't heard? Eh, I'll explain.

This is a special attraction where many of the bosses you've fought wait.

The guys there are at least level 50, and at their very best, well over level 100.

If you're good, you'll make it halfway through, but if you're not confident, don't go.

Rulue

Heh...do you really think that'll stop me?

Succubus:

If you want to go in, be my guest. Do as you please. ♡ (With Succubus it feels much more normal because...she's a Succubus.)

Rulue:

(Who is this woman...?)

------

Succubus Boss 1 (Rulue): (23:12)

Rulue:

Oh? You're here this time?

Succubus:

Fufufu...♡ Yes, I'm surprised you made it this far.

Rulue:

Heh? Who do you think I am? It was easy.

Succubus:

Heh~ I really don't care... (Man she's different compared to her talks to Schezo.)

Rulue:

You don't care? What is there not to care for!?

Succubus:

Your face, your voice, the way you talk, everything!

Rulue:

Oh, now you've done it!

Now that you've said all that, you ready for this? It's far too late to apologize...

Succubus:

Hm...you seem rather ready.

Rulue:

Oh, you're unforgivable!

[Putting these here, I've translated Succubus loss quote too many times for my own good, and when Rulue gets to the chest at 22:10, it says Rulue got a book.]

-----

Witch Trade 1 (Rulue): (25:25)

Rulue:

Oh my goodness! All of that hassle for a book. (She can also say my god.)

And I got no clue how to use it! (...By reading it, genius. Granted it's Meteor but still.)

Minotauros:

Master Rulue...

Rulue:

Ugh! What do I do with this junk!?

Witch:

Hey!!

Rulue:

What do you want!?

Witch:

It's outrageous that you would try to destroy my grimoire!

Rulue:

"Your Grimoire," you must be joking! It's mine.

Witch:

What're you talking about? Aren't you unable to use magic? (Harsh, but true.)

It's like giving a pearl to a pig, so give it to me! (The Pearl to a Pig thing is something I'm a lil unsure about but yea.)

Rulue:

What the hell!

(Either way she gives it.)

Witch:

...Finally, I got my hands on the "Meteor Grimoire" I've been searching for.

...yes, in return, I'll give you the "Ultimate Queen's Secret Manual".

Rulue:

Huh...

Witch:

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go.

Rulue:

I see. Even with that special manual, that girl wouldn't be able to use it.

That's her "Pearl's to Pigs".

Minotauros:

Good for you, Master Rulue.

------

Satan 2 (Arle): (26:03)

Arle:

W-what!?

Carbuncle:

Guu!?

Satan:

Oh...that's the final tower.

Arle:

Eh!?

Satan:

There's a great magical item in that tower.

Arle:

What? I thought you didn't know about any item.

Satan:

What's so funny? I was upset at the time...

Arle:

...This place is weird. You sure you're the owner?

Satan:

I'm for sure the owner of "Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Land."

Arle:

Then why...

Satan:

Well, I've been busy with a lot of things.

A person like me can't check every single attraction.

Arle:

You...I guess you really don't know anything about this, do you?

Satan:

N-no, that's...

Arle:

Guess I have no choice...Let's go, Carbuncle!

Carbuncle;

Guu!

-----

Battle Castle Explanation 2 (Arle): (26:32)

Arle:

Huh? What's a castle doing here... seems like a new attraction.

Let's go for now, shall we?

Carbuncle:

Gugu!

Succbus:

Welcome. Pleasure to meet you.

Arle:

Hello...who are you anyways?

Succubus:

Im a Succubus. (Hm...haha...) [I wasn't able to find the parentheses text out. Sorry.]

I'm not here to lure you in... I'm an usher.

Arle:

Hm...my goodness...

Succubus:

Why don't you go into this place without sounding so harsh?

Arle:

Well? Can I enter?

Succubus:

Yes, you can. ♡

Arle:

So, is this a new attraction?

Succubus:

Huh? You haven't heard? Well, let me make this easy for you.

[She then explains the same thing she told Rulue.]

Arle:

What? I didn't know enemies could get that strong...

-----

Succubus Boss 2 (Arle) (27:05)

Arle:

I met you outside...

Succubus:

Fufufu...well, we're finally here...

Arle:

Err...

If we're talking now, by any chance, are you the boss here?

Succubus:

Well, you're right, I am the boss here.

But don't talk to me like I'm just a boss, talk to me like I'm a queen.

Arle:

Queen?

(Her and Rulue share a lot in common...)

Succubus:

Did you say something?

Arle:

Uhh, it's nothing...

Succubus:

Then I'll make you my special servant.

You should be honored, I usually only take very good looking men. (THAT explains Schezo's Route...)

Arle:

A servant!? I don't want that!

Succubus:

Oh...you're a funny girl. You're missing out on a lot.

Arle:

Are you...is your head okay? I think you need to see a doctor...

Succubus:

Shut up!

I think people with your attitude need to be taught a lesson...prepare yourself!

Arle:

Ugh, what a mess!

[Once again at 30:05 it says "Arle got a book."]

-----

Witch Trade 2 (Arle): (30:15)

Arle:

That was fun, Carby!

Carbuncle;

Guu!

Arle;

...But I don't understand what this grimoire is for.

Witch:

Hey!

Arle:

Ah! Don't just appear like that randomly!

Witch:

Oh, sorry about that. (WITCH? The horrors beyond my comprehension? Apologizing? I'm too used to Schezo's Route...)

But I'd like to ask, may I have that grimoire that you have right now?

Arle:

W-Well...

(They give it.)

Witch:

Finally...I got my hands on the "Meteor Grimoire" I've been looking for.

...Yes, in return, I'll give you the "Jugem's Grimoire." (Idk what Jugem means...Probably just call it the Great Mage Grimoire.)

Arle:

Huh...

Witch:

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go.

Arle:

I'll do my best to use "The Jugem Grimoire"!

Carbuncle:

Gugu!

------

And that's translations. I won't deny, I delayed them a good bit, but they're done. Expect Part 1 of Arle's Route within'...maybe a week or two depending on how long the first episode is. Might split it in half like Schezo's.

And with that...We're on Random Puyo Extras. Filler INSIDE of filler where I speak about a Random Puyo thing very unprofessionally.

Today, it'll be on Lagnus/Ragnus Bishasi.

So, my boy Lagnus. Top 3 character in Puyo/Madou IMO, and I'm just kinda here to talk about the man, and how different he is COMPILE vs SEGA Era Puyo, least personality wise. And since I don't want this to JUST walls of text...I'll throw in a few images.

Let's start with SEGA Era, shall we?

Let's begin with Puyo Sun, his first introduction.

(Concept art of Lagnus, along the Puyo Sun cast as a whole.)

In Sun, he's portrayed as a bit of a fool. He's trying to become stronger and all that, which power to him, powerscaling in Puyo seems mad fun, and you see him in Arle's route first killing a Puyo to transform into his teenage self. He then challenges Arle...only for his pants to fall down. This is why we wear belts.

You then see him in Schezo's route next, fresh off his loss against Arle. He notices Schezo is a Dark Mage, and rushes in to attack, only to fall down when Schezo dodges, reverting back to a kid, before throwing a temper tantrum...Not the best showcasing of the man. However, in the novels, it IS said that he only turns into a kid due to Satan being a bit of a jerk.

Minna De Puyo Puyo has a similar beat with SUN Lagnus. Here, he offers to help out Arle out with her journey, but unfortunately, guy is still a kid, so Arle assumes he's joking. Guy can't catch a break.

Oh. But Chronicles got you covered, right?

No. It doesn't.

He appears in Purplune Aqueduct, basically gaslighting himself into thinking he's The Great Hero, when it's Arle...and he's stupid pissy about it. He challenges Arle, loses, and runs into the final dungeon alone. Arle sees him again, is still annoyed with him, and beats him again, before joining your team.

I genuinely don't like how he's portrayed here at all, probably my least favorite version of him ever.

But COMPILE got you covered. For real this time.

(Concept Art of Lagnus and art showing the major characters...and Witch/Draco.)

In Madou Saturn, he's basically the 3rd protagonist of the game, next to Arle and Rulue. You start off the game playing as the man, who's kinda cracked, before he uses all of his power to slay Yoggus, the main antagonist, before he realizes that a portal opened up and that the Yogs (Main villain group) are in other dimensions, before the portal sucks him in. Thankfully, Satan saves the guy and traps him in a crystal to prevent the man from dying.

However, not all was lost. He's able to transfer his soul into Schezo's body, and be able to control it for a small period of time, though he does get removed due to the large amount of darkness in Schezo. It's the reason why Arle and Rulue were so confused when Schezo decided to help them sometimes. He even fights Satan with you in Schezo's body.

When Arle finally meets the guy fairly late into the game, he's turned to a child due to his curse, before telling Schezo that he had to keep controlling him for his own good, annoying Schezo. He starts to tell Arle and Co. about what went down in his world.

(This happens after, but it's always fun to throw in.)

After tons of trials and tribulations, they finally reach Yoggus, and...win the first time around, and Lagnus gets his Reactor Blade back, turning him back into his teenage self, and he fights Yoggus as his full power with Arle and Rulue, and slay Yoggus.

As the place they fought in begins to collapse, Arle and Rulue run off, and Lagnus and Satan...stay behind. Least for a bit with Satan. At that moment, Arle wonders where Lagnus is, and Satan breaks the news: He went back to his own world.

However, what went on was slightly different. Lagnus decides to stay in the collapsing area, saying he'll go back home, as he thinks he was one of the main causes for the problem, and risks being sent to another dimension just for a chance to get home. Satan says otherwise though, as not only did he remove the curse, but indeed was helping Lagnus, pulling things behind the scenes, like deliberately putting important things in obvious spaces.

Satan did this...mostly because we wanted to show the people of his world a reason to defend it. That and he was bored. After that, he gives Lagnus the Azorecrack, a pendant that allows him to transfer between his and Arle's world, saying he was intentionally hiding it. Lagnus, quietly cursing Satan, thanks him, and says he'll be back another day.

With the plot synopsis of SATURN for Lagnus, it shows that not only is he fairly smart and has a strong sense of justice, but he's pragmatic to boot, never going too far with everything, besides the start of the game. He develops a good friendship with Arle and even Rulue, and Schezo kinda hates the guy. He even develops a small acquaintanceship with Satan, thanking him for a lot but also cursing him for not stopping everything. In a game like Saturn, where a lot of characters are hit or miss, Lagnus stands out as probably the best written one out there...until Chronicles kinda messed him up badly.

With this little image, I think I did the man a tad bit of justice.

That'll be all. Thanks for reading.

[whichwoods]

Hey I hope you're doing great! I was wondering about lsts:

1. Why does Lucerys get so embarassed about how horny he is for Aemond or being eaten out? The man's literally breaking down your door to worship you

2. Other than Lucerys' imposed 1 month separation, have they ever had moments where either sobered up again or made each other intentionally jealous?

3. What is the frequency of heats/ruts in the lsts universe?

4. Have they ever almost been caught during the act? My dudes are putting a lot of faith in doors for a nosey (and huge) family

5. Since they've been sleeping together for years now, have they ever had moments of wanting to spice up their sex life? (They're clearly fired up and will continue to be but 👀)

6. Idk if I forgot/missed this but did you elaborate on how they first fell into bed together?

7. Have they done joint flights on their dragons? How's the relationship between Arrax and Vhagar? (I assume Lucemond wouldn't do dragonback sex bc they're so high profile but is that even a thing in the Universe?)

Sorry my questions seem like I'm doing a phd in the fic lmao i just really adore it and love crumbs about the universe ♡

never apologize for asking questions <3 i love world-building for this series and i'm always so grateful for anything sent my way :) it helps keep me inspired!

a part of it is definitely that underlying fear that aemond simply doesn't want him as much as luke does, which is hard for him to shake 🤠 they work on it. aemond is very determined to get his point across

there are no "official" breaks outside of that one-month separation! it did take place during a critical time period though, when aemond needed to make certain decisions about where he was going to get his next degree :') and guess where he didn't choose to go!!! that changes things for a bit, even when they're "back together"

lol i feel like i've been dancing around this one a bit 😭 for young, healthy adults without any sort of suppressants let's say about twice a year, being subject to change from things like pregnancy, breastfeeding, stress, etc.

they've definitely had a few close calls!! one memorable occasion is when jace should've definitely Known Something Was Up after almost catching them in the garden after helaena and aegon's wedding, but he was too distracted (read: devastated) by other things to notice 🥲

i'm sure they try things! who knows?? we have a lot of sex to get through before the series is over :)))

i talked about their first time together very briefly here! i do have a one-shot in the works for this though <3

absolutely! truthfully most dragon-riders in the family have at this point in lsts :) arrax is fond of vhagar and usually happy to see her, often nudging at her and making noises until she snaps or roars at him to stop 🥲 vhagar finds him to be a nuisance but she likes him MUCH more than most of the younger dragons (you're right about the dragon-back sex, unfortunately. aemond's also convinced vhagar would never forgive him)

[learningtosmelltheroses]

6 years is amazing, I've been trying but I'm picky and lazy to cook different vegie options that's not just pasta, chips and pizza so I always fail and end up eating meat options, it's better than not just eating 😅, I feel like Z has also said that about being a vegetarian that doesn't eat veggies, but at least Z is in a tax bracket where she can afford take out 7 days a week. I think next time I attempt being vegetarian I have to do research and collect recipes, probably also meal prep ahead so I don't feel lazy after work, but wow 6 years is goals well done to you.

This is gonna be a long answer because I LOVE to talk about this topic (so if you want to talk about it in my dms we totally can!!!)

So here's my story to become a veggie!

I graduated as an IT Developer alongside my high school degree (idk if that's common in other countries, but here we have that a lot) and as my final project I had to develop an Android App and I did one to help people become vegetarians!!

So I had to do a scientific research to prove that my app was good so I did a lot of research about nutrition and what vegetarians lack the most after changing their diet. And reading all about the better health, the environment and most importantly the animals... how could I still eat meat? This project was during a whole year so I was understanding things while I wrote my research and then one day my mom was cooking, and she was seasoning a piece of meat and I was looking at that for 5minutes realizing that that was a dead animal (crazy how we normalize this in a point most people forget) and I was so disgusted I never ate meat again.

But I started slow, I kept eating chicken for 7 months after stopping every other type of meat. And then I stopped that too. And that's how I became a vegetarian.

And I never felt the need to meat eat again.

I wasn't a fan of veggies too, so I had to adapt. It is a big change in your life and I gained so much weight after I started because there were so few vegetarian options in restaurants and usually were pasta or other carbs 😂

So I started to look at recipes that were more healthy, started going to a nutritionist so she could help me plan my diet and how I could learn to like vegetables. At first I would roast a lot of veggies and then smash them together and make like a smashed potato but with a lot of veggies (carrots, zucchini, onions, potatoes, broccoli...) 😂😂 ps: I also don't like cooking and I am too lazy to do it everyday.

And I don't make my friends or my fiancé to not eat meat because I think that's a very personal decision.

My best friend tried being a vegetarian and it lasted a whole year and she felt so guilty because she missed eating meat. So when she came to talk to me I told her it was ok but the way she could "help" was eating less, or not eating everyday.

So take your time. Start cutting meat everyday. Look up for vegetarian options that look delicious to you and with time, you will be able to change that completely. But a very important point in the process of doing this: do your health check ups because not eating meat influences in how your body absorbs nutrients and vitamins and you most likely will be with a deficiency of vitamin D and B12 😔

It's being 8 years for me now and I don't regret one bit! 💚

Sorry for the long answer (but I did warn you)

[sketchystalker]

Okay. This is going to be the semester that kills me

First up, my literary criticism class has an essay due every. single. class. And hey it's a class that starts at 1:30, so plenty of time to do it in the morning, right? Nope! Due at midnight the night before. So I have to fully understand these complex texts talking about things that already go over my head enough to write a paper about it and somehow get it done way before the normal time I'd get it done at (because I am a big homework after midnight do-er). I have like zero time this weekend (because hey, it's my birthday and it's the first week of classes so you'd think I'd be able to have some time off) and my professor decided to add on a 25-30 minute video lecture to the assigned Plato reading (due with an essay Monday at midnight) that she already advised us to start two days ago, and another textbook reading on top of it.

Second, the class I had to beg to get into because my other class dropped last-minute apparently is 8 weeks, and is designed just like an online class, except I have a mandatory in-person lecture twice a week at 8:30 AM. I literally could have just taken the online class and saved time probably. It'll be nice I guess when it's term two and I don't have 17 credits going but it's going to be so much to balance initially.

Third, my grantwriting practicum. It's only three credits, but I'm spending 6 hours in the lab every week working on it because they want us to do all of our work in the lab. But I am such a slow writer that I know I'm going to have to do work outside of that time too. And the issue is that I don't get to use that time to prioritize something that may be more important at the moment, I'm stuck writing grants on all three of my most busiest days (which are right next to each other, giving me little time to do any homework for the classes that meet Tuesday/Thursday. And guess when my lit crit class meets? My Tuesday/Thursdays are literally 8:30 AM-5 PM with only an hour off for lunch. And then I have homework right after).

Fourth, I decided to take a piano class because "oh it'll be fun" and "who knows if you'll have space to take it senior year. Just do it now while you can" and yeah it should be fun, but I'm supposed to practice 30 minutes every day? There's no way. It'd be doable if I had a piano where I lived but I don't so there's no way.

And then my other two classes would be fine and doable if I literally just didn't have lit crit. But they're both English as well, and one is a 3 hour night class meeting on Wednesdays (once again giving me no time to do my Thursday homework), requiring about 150 pages read every week. And the other is variable speech/story/poem/etc. lengths but, knowing this professor, they'll have to be closely annotated. So no skimming for me if I'm short on time.

On top of that I have work, where I am now going to be one of two people among a sea of new hires (and that second person only started like three months ago and apparently makes people really uncomfortable). And I'm in charge of certifying all of them. And until that day happens, like months from now because the process actually takes forever, I and that other guy are the only ones who can give the hour-long tours. So that's 9 hours of my week right now (a majority happening during my Tuesday/Thursdays)

And I'm also the president of a club that I have no idea how to really run. There's so much shit I have to do up-top, like getting certified, making a whole budget that's extremely complicated and I don't know how to do, and start planning and holding meetings, all by a really soon date.

Plus I still have boxes I need to unpack and lists I need to research and send to my mom and apply for studying abroad before September 12th and my oven takes over an hour to pre-heat to 400 degrees which makes cooking anything impossible so I have nothing I can easily make and eat and I still need to confront a professor I've been avoiding and someone wants to interview me and I'm avoiding that email and I'm worried I'm not going to be making enough money this semester because I don't have that many hours and if I don't see my friends I get sad and lose all my motivation to do anything especially schoolwork and I have a stupid fucking 4.0 that I've maintained for this long I literally don't know how to lose it like how do you do an assignment and turn it in that isn't all of your effort ever and how do you know if you miss assignments that you aren't actually going to get a negative 500% grade in the class and I'm trying so hard to have a good semester I need a good semester after last semester I need to stay academically minded and excited to do it but I'm not going to get any exercise which naturally is going to make me sad because moving your body is good for you and feels good and i just don't have time and I said yes to a dnd campaign this semester?????? what the actual hell when i am going to have the time to do that and i want to start reading the illiad right now and i want to watch a movie every week and I think I am actually going to die

[hankwritten]

A Tavern Named Keep [6/6]

Demoman-centric Modern AU

[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]

In a small uni-town in New Mexico, DeGroot Keep serves liquor and succor to an eclectic yet loyal group of patrons, and has for many years. The Keep owes its success to its equally colorful owner, who always seems to know what you need—whether that be a stiff beer or a word of advice. But, between setting up his patrons or sifting through his friends’ problems, will Tavish remember to take care of himself?

Two mugs spring with amber liquid, the tap gushing with the satisfying rise in pitch as each one fills. Practiced hands kill it at just the right time, the foam heads perfectly proportioned, settling briefly before Tavish tops them off. He drops a curly straw in one, and slides them forward.

Dell’s beer is parted from the bartender’s hand for approximately half a second before the engineer grasps it firmly and takes a mighty gulp.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tavish asks as Pyro double takes at the man beside them.

The mug slams back down, and Dell wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “You could say that, yeah.”

“Well come on then,” Tavish says, cocking a hip and leaning sumptuously on the bar. “Tell ‘ole Tavvy your woes.”

“So long as you never call yourself that again, sure. Why else come to a bar but to unload relationship troubles?”

“Truer words never spoken. C’mon spill it, Conagher. First month is always when the heretofore unknown character flaws come bubbling up, and Fortier had a wagonload to begin with.”

“Hell.” Dell rubs the bridge of his nose. “For one, I think Scout’s still mad at me.”

A froth of consoling noises comes from Pyro’s mask, as well as a rubbery pat on the back.

“Alright, maybe she isn’t, but it sure feels like it. And I know I should be giving her time to get used to the idea of me and her dad uh…” He clears his throat. “Seeing each other. But that don’t make it any easier.”

“She’ll come around, Dell,” Tavish assures. “But ‘for one’ makes me think that isn’t all?”

Dell rubs a hand over his freshly shaved head. “I…it’s hard to explain this one. More than it’s just a feeling, not anything he’s said or done but…Seems like he doesn’t want to go anywhere with me. Most of the time when I suggest some place the two of us could spend a nice night at, he goes on grumbling about Teufort being a backwater whatever. But sometimes I wonder if it’s more than that. That he doesn’t want to be seen with me.”

Tavish’s opinion of Fortier is low enough that he thinks ‘yeah that tracks’, but quietly, and to himself. Instead he says the proper thing as both barman and friend of, “ach no, don’t go thinking that. Prissy as the man is, he did make the decision to be with you, and he’ll honor that.” He better. Otherwise he’ll have fifteen stone of Scotsman putting a boot up his arse the next time he walks through the Keep’s door. “I think you’re jumping to an uncharitable interpretation of events.”

“Maybe. I got a cousin���s wedding coming up, and I was hoping to bring him along, but if he’s going to get cold feet…”

Pyro gesticulates something.

“Wadda you mean? Like a chance to get him used to the idea?” Dell asks, to which they nod. “Trying things out at a small gathering might just work…Hey DeGroot, I assume we’re having a going away party for Doe sometime soon, right?”

And just like that the world shifts, the axis of the Earth tilts another 2.5 degrees, the conversation of the same old help-your-friends-fix-their-hearts slips from Tavish’s grasp as he struggles to comprehend what has just been said to him.

“A…a going away party?” he repeats stupidly. “Going bloody where?”

The two spines in front of him straighten, and don’t do much to hide as their topmost vertebra twitch just enough to exchange bewildered looks with one another. Cautiously, Dell says, “his new job up in Minnesota? Didn’t he tell you?”

The underlying accusation of wouldn’t you be the first one he’d tell? as clear as day.

“Is this…?” Permanent? For certain? All the things Tavish wants to know but they’re all butting heads to get out the door first. He whips his head around, to shout across his tavern to the man in the far corner, ‘oi Doe, all of this true?’ but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he hastily says, “‘scuse me lads,” and puts every ounce of concentration into moving his legs across the floor.

His heart does not have the aptitude to panic. Years of the drink have persuaded his blood pressure to never get too worked up over itself, and this morning’s draught still sloshes heavily in the stream. So if his body doesn’t respond to the signals his brain is sending, the ones stumbling along to conclusions he’d never even seen the edges before, then he can thank it for getting him from one side of the Keep to the other.

“You’re moving?” he says before he’s even greeted, before the others at the table even realize he’s there. Its bluntness is unfamiliar in his mouth.

He doesn't get a chance to see Jane's reaction. In that instant, two newcomers (the bell still tinkling) appear at the table, and Mikhail is shouldering into the conversation with, “DeGroot. Mikhail needs advice”

“Pah,” another voice comes elbowing past him. “Such as ‘what ingredients shall I put on my sandwich today?’ I am here with a true emergency.” Helen, having just fought her way over who could squeeze through the front door first (and having lost rather spectacularly) puts both hands on the table. “The board is forming an inquiry into the exact nature of my relationship with Miss Pauling. This is a matter most urgent.”

Mikhail growls in a way that indicates he’d very much like to simply knock her aside again, “is own fault did not think of this when starting relationship. Live with decision. Mikhail has real issue.” He pales considerably. “Doktor talks about moving in together.”

“And?” Helen hisses. “Either you do or you don’t, DeGroot does not have time for such petty frivolities when the entire reputation of The Facility is on the line!”

“Listen, would you two mind coming back some other…” Tavish says, but is promptly ignored.

“Is not this thing you just said,” Mikhail counters. “Is dangerous. Too soon. Doktor wants to pick up with commitment right where he left off. Cannot make him see this. Need advice, is DeGroot's fault in first place.”

“I think fault is-” Tavish tries.

“I have equal claim to his time, as this whole- “““dating””” -business was certainly not my idea!”

“Ach, one at a-”

Although not prone to fits of panic, this does not make Tavish immune to being utterly overwhelmed. Mikhail and Helen are looking to shed blood right in the middle of his nice clean floor, their blame is loud in his ears, and Jane is just feet away. Inches. Agonizingly close and—to Tavish’s drawing dread—wearing a look of guilt on his face.

Jane stands. To Tavish's relief, this is apparently to disrupt the conversation. He says, “you two keep at that. DeGroot’s superior officer needs a word with him.” His hand finds Tavish’s upper arm, and the barman does not resist when he is gently marched away from the indignant pair. Before Helen can muster a demand to return, they’re already in the cramped room below the stairwell.

They’re barely alone for more than a second before Tavish blurts, “you got a new job?”

And what can Jane say but, “…yeah.”

“Oh.”

They stand there, too close to each other where a single pull string light casts the tiny landing into contrast. He’s still breathing heavy, and he wants to ask why didn’t you tell me? but it’s increasingly obvious that this is why Jane didn’t tell him. Because he’s freaking out, because normal people don’t find out their best friend is moving out of town in a perfectly natural and adult change in careers and immediately feel like they’re going to die. He struggles, once, twice, three times to school his expression. He smiles. Friendly, congenial bartender here at your service.

“Where to?” he asks conversationally.

Jane won’t look at him. He struggles to look anyone in the eye on normal circumstances, but the proximity makes it all the more palpable. “Up at Chippewa. There’s an animal sanctuary there that had an opening.”

“Ah, that sounds nice. I know how much you like working with the rehabilitation cases.” It hurts, it hurts so much but he forces out, “I’m really happy for you.”

“Really?”

It isn’t a really of surprised hope. It’s an accusation, disappointment, and Tavish knows for certain that Jane did keep this from him because he knew Tavish would make this horrid, embarrassing, thing��out of it.

“I…”

Tavish tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry you sappy, useless drunk. You’re making it bad enough as it is. Who cares if it feels like all your organs are shutting down one by one? Doc always joked how your liver would go any day now, the rest of them might as well toddle on after it.

“That’s all?” Jane asks doubtfully. “You’re happy for me?”

Jesus why does he keep pushing this? It compels some of the truth out through Tavish’s teeth. “Well…no. I’m not happy. But what am I supposed to do, try to talk you out of it? Throw a fit every time something doesn’t go my way?”

Jane snarls something. His profile is stony, and Tavish is afraid of it, knowing he’s seeing it for now a finite amount of times and afraid he’s doing it wrong. That he’s not appreciating his best friend right, not appreciating him enough. Tick tick tick the seconds go by, and Tavish is wasting it as his mask slips further.

“No,” Jane finally admits. “No, but sometimes I wish you weren’t so damn selfless.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean? Look lad if you’ve found a better job, and you’ve made your decision, I won’t try to guilt you out of it-”

“That’s what I mean!” Jane yells, and the silence that follows is so deafening that the outburst must have reached even the front of the house. “That! Perfect, noble, so goddamn observant about every little problem that wasn’t yours, yet you couldn’t figure me.”

“What?” Tavish asks. “What was I supposed to be seeing?”

“You‘ve diagnosed every lovesick private who’s ever walked into this tavern, but you still couldn’t see how much I was in love with you.”

Somehow, that silence is more powerful, more terrifying than anything that came before it. It reaches deep under Tavish’s skin, pinning him with tenterhooks until he can’t move, can’t think, can’t cycle the air that’s caught in his lungs.

“Twenty goddamn years.” This, it seems, is mostly to himself as Jane stares at the single mop leaned in the corner. He shakes his head. “Everyone else, clear as day. Me? Not a damn clue.”

“Jane I. I don’t think I…”

Jane holds up a hand. “You don’t need to say it maggot. I’ve thought through this conversation as many times as I’ve knocked myself unconscious with a shovel. I know you can’t love me like I love you.” Something wry—nowhere near a laugh but dry enough air squeezed through lungs as pained as Tavish’s—indicates something might have been amusing, once, a long time ago. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was capable of it either. Not when we met. But here we are, I’m the one who’s fucked, and it’s been too damn long Tavish I can’t live like this anymore. So I looked up that sanctuary in Minnesota and applied for the position.”

The admission hangs.

“But,” Tavish says, “even if I- if we- at least you could stay for the Keep, aye? We’re like a family here.”

Jane shakes his head. “They’re not my friends. They’re yours. I’m just the owner’s lunatic buddy they tolerate because they like him so goddamn much.”

“That’s not…” It’s not true. And if it’s true, then it’s because disrespecting Jane is as good as disrespecting Tavish, because Jane’s part of his life. Is his life. “Jane you’re…”

“…I didn’t know if I was going to tell you before I left,” Jane says. “It was probably the honest and American thing to do, to tell you, but there is cowardice in all of us. I’m sorry. For everything. I need to go pack.”

Tavish doesn’t stop him when he steps past and through the plain black door and into the kitchen. What can he say? Already committed as he is to not talking him out of it, still reeling from…from being blind. For not knowing. He finds himself in the kitchen, and it’s by accident when overhears the commotion from the tavern proper.

“-That you are all ungrateful MAGGOTS,” Jane is saying. Tavish has heard him rant before, heard him deride each and every person now clustered awkwardly around him on an individual basis, but he’s never heard something like this. “That man in there has done everything for you! He has listened to your woes, he’s wiped up your big sobby tears when no one else would, he’s guided you to love and support and what have you done for him in return? NOTHING! You take and you take and at the end of the day all you want is more of what he already gives you. You are nothing but a clat of writhing, steaming, WORMS, and when I am gone you WILL treat him better.”

Jane’s voice cuts off sharply. Tavish can only see him from the back, the slope of his shoulders, the way his uniform cuts a silhouette in the fading light from the stained glass.

“You better,” he says softly.

And then Jane is gone, seashells clattering, and Tavish still hasn’t said goodbye.

The assembled patrons are all in various stages of shamefacedness, some stepping from one foot to the other, some staring anywhere else but at the bartender who's just appeared at the kitchen door with an expression that tells that his whole world has just ended.

“Tavern’s closed for the day,” he informs them emotionlessly.

It’s a rash thing to do, but he doesn’t care. How could he care about anything anymore? The supposed family doesn’t wait around to be told twice.

That night, he drinks himself to unconsciousness in record time.

When he wakes, he thinks ruefully that this is the exact opposite of what Jane’s been telling him all this time, about how he needs to take better care of himself. And really needs to now that Jane will be gone. No one looking after him but himself anymore. That’s the only thought that stays his hand as he reaches for the spare whiskey in the bedside table, makes him draw it back and use it to wipe the dried drool from his mouth. Jane won’t be there on his favorite stool anymore, flashing Tavish a smile on busy nights. He won’t break into the kitchen out of misplaced paranoia, he won’t convince Tavish that a drive out of town won’t kill him as long as there’s a new rib place on the other end. There will be a hole in Tavish’s life where Jane once was, and that is all that awaits him in the foreseeable future. Fuck. Why couldn’t he have seen it? Not that Tavish knows what it’s like to fall in love with someone who doesn't-

Well let’s face it. Tavish doesn’t know what it’s like to fall for someone, period. But he can imagine how painful that would be, and if it’s already gone on too long, already become too much, there’s no way he can ask Jane to put up with more of it. Christ, how many times has he botched a relationship because he’s fallen short? Granted, it’s always been with lassies, and lassies he was already dating, but it’s still the same mistake in different packaging. What I need is not in your power to give is what Jane had told him once, and he had been right, though not in the way he’d thought.

Tavish gets up, but doesn’t find it in him to shower. He wraps himself in a blanket and stares at the opposite wall, eye unfocused as he processes the fact that while Jane had the misfortune of falling for him, in the end it’s Tavish’s fault that he’s losing the most important person in his life.

The self-pity wears more heavily on him than the alcohol ever could. It’s only his errant bladder that finally forces him to move, and when he returns he sees the unread message flaring on his phone screen. Pyro’s contact information is a single flame emoji.

i know you kicked us out of the tavern but it’s really important that we see you today. can we come over?

Tavish doesn’t know who we is, assumes it's them and Scout, and naively replies sure. We turns out to be every person he’s ever met.

It seems that way at least. It’s mostly the regulars, more than there were last night, and Tavish sniffs out an ‘intervention’ faster than it takes for you to say scrumpy. But they’ve already seen him take one step into the tavern, and he can’t back out now. What is he going to do? Run out of his own place of business and hide in his room?

They’ve arranged themselves around one chair in particular, doing a right poor job of making any of this look natural, though Dell smiles sympathetically at him as he sits down. Crue smells like smoke and Tavish can practically hear the argument of ‘you better put that out before we go in there’ that must have occurred right outside the tavern door. To Tavish’s left are Pyro and a squirming Scout, more chairs behind them to support others who weren’t even there to bear witness to the events last night (since, Tavish is beginning to suspect, that’s what this is all about.)

“I’ll warn you lads,” he says to a neutral spot in between Mikhail and Ludwig’s heads. “I’m no stranger to interventions, and I’m a tough nut to crack.”

(The joke doesn’t go over particularly well.)

Even to himself his voice sounds oddly flat. Ragged. He watches the exchange of worried looks, and a whisper into Helen’s ear.

“This isn’t meant to be a fight, partner,” Dell says. “It’s a gathering of concerned friends, who are going to help if they can.”

“Doe was right when he told us off,” Mikhail says. “DeGroot does good things for all of us, and we do not help him when he needs us. Now we help.”

“Ach don’t let him get to you,” Tavish bats away. “I’m fine. I do what I do for the love of it, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Pyro makes a distressed noise that belies otherwise.

“No offense lads, but you really don’t know the half of it.” Tavish truly isn’t in the mood to relay the argument to a new audience, no matter how sympathetic.

“We can guess.” This comes from Mikhail. “Doe moves. Heart breaks.”

Aw Jesus. He thought he could do this, sit and bear as his closest friends try to ‘help’ through all this, but having it said so plainly cracks the modicum of resolve Tavish has managed to collect. “It’s not…” he tries, but to his horror the pressure he’s been holding back since the news rears its ugly head. It’s bulbous and angry behind his eye, the reality that Jane’s not moving on a whim, that this has been coming down the track for ages, that it’s irreversible. He can’t make him come home. “Bloody hell.”

The whimper peters out into a true wail of distress, because Tavish is nothing if not some weepy idiot, just as Jane always said he was. The weight of everyone staring isn’t enough to keep him from sobbing, and he throws himself into the nearest waiting shoulder to blubber his woes. The shoulder turns out to belong to Helen.

She stiffens like a possum playing dead. Tavish can’t stop crying though, and he feels an utterly flat palm come up to pat him uncomfortably on the shoulder. “Ah. Hm. There there.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake. Here.”

The mellower voice of Dell commands Helen aside, and he peels Tavish off her and into his own waiting arms. Tavish transfers to the hug gratefully. He hears chairs scoot closer as he makes a mess of Dell’s shirt, the uncomfortableness audible. Well they can all suck it. If they didn’t want to see a grown man cry they shouldn’t have staged a bloody intervention.

“Hey pally, oh whoa okay yeah I know it sucks,” Scout says from somewhere behind him. “But it ain’t too late. You can still tell him.”

“Tell him?” Tavish lifts his head miserably. He assumed that sentence was going to end with ‘convince him’.

Crue groans, “yes you-” He’s elbowed sharply by Scout. “…You poor soul,” he finishes with a healthy veneer of sarcasm.

“We have talked a bit amongst ourselves,” Ludwig picks up this truly baffling train of thought. “Yes Ranger Doe has found superior employment, but he does not seem terribly excited about it. I find it unlikely that he knows your true feelings for him, and if you were to confess, he might see fit to stay. Then things can stay right as they are, all without DeGroot Keep falling into disarray!”

“Okay, ignore that last part Doc said that made us all sound like selfish assholes who only care about the bar,” Scout glares at Ludwig. “But yeah, intervention stuff. It’s obviously killing you, keeping it all balled up inside, so go shoot your shot while you still got it.”

“Hold on now,” Tavish says, righting himself and looking at his friends incredulously. “You all came here, put aside your differences and all that, because you think I’m in love with Jane?”

A collage of faces��some bespectacled some not, some incredulous others exasperated—all glance around the tables shoved together at the center of the room.

“Well…yeah?” Scout says.

Tavish is struck silent, looking between his friends. And suddenly he feels very, very foolish. “I don’t…”

“You don’t need to give us an explanation, mate.” The new voice is shocking, mainly because Tavish didn’t even realize Mick was here, pressed as he is against the corner. Even more so for the fact that he doesn’t even like Jane. “We’re just offering advice. And support. We hope you’ll at least try to sort things out.”

Every single person he knows thinks he’s in love with Jane. He wants to ask why? What makes you think that? but part of him realizes that he already has the answer.

He stands, his chair scooting a tuneless note on the hardwood floor. “I need to go. Now. I- thank you.”

There is a chorus of no worries, and good lucks, various hands patting him on the back as he struggles through chair legs to get to the door. He’d spent years wasting time, he wouldn’t squander any more.

His car starts on the second try, a beaten old thing because even if he isn’t as careless about taking his poison behind the wheel anymore, he’s still afraid he’ll forget one of these days and doesn’t want to wreck something shiny and new. It gets him where he needs to go, and where he needs to go with every fibre of his being is the preserve on the edges of town. His car growls, and screeches up to the mountain as Tavish takes every turn at 15 over.

He does not park in the visitor area. He doesn’t even stop at the end of the drive, even though the signage clearly indicates the two tracks of beaten dirt with the line of grass between are for park vehicles only. Only when he’s in the semicircle of trailers does the car finally come to a halt, dragging lines in the gravel and expelling him, panting, from the driver’s seat.

Jane is not packing. He has no box in hand, no bit of furniture over his shoulder. When Tavish’s car had come barreling in he’d been stood in the clearing west of the homes, up a wide grassy path, just watching the sun set.

Tavish runs. The urgency has meaning, even if it’s to him and him alone.

He stumbles to Jane, straightening the words, knowing he will make this count, and says, “you want me to start asking for things? Fine. I’m asking you to stay.”

Jane looks at him. The orange light behind him casts him heavenly, his expression of surprise the gold against his cheeks, the red along his shoulders. The same grass that clawed around his home whips at his ankles, the breeze shaking it and random leaves about. The expression doesn't change, still stoic and without hope as he looks at the wheezing bartender who's followed him on this pointless attempt.

The lack of reply does not deter Tavish. “Please Jane I…I can’t say I know what you’re going through, what I’ve made you go through all these years," he says. “I don’t know if I love you. But I do know that I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I’ve never asked myself what I need, and what I need is…is you Jane.”

He takes a few steps closer. The run up the western hill really has taken the wind out of him, or maybe its heart that refuses to stop its galloping pace. Either way, when he stands in front of Jane, he can’t seem to catch his breath.

Jane’s shoulders, still brushed with that blushing light, lift. “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“I’m asking…I’m asking to be yours.”

Tavish reaches out, forgetting boundaries, forgetting everything, and touches Jane’s cheek.

Jane’s so warm underneath the pads of his fingers, and it doesn’t feel wrong the way he thought it might. The way it’s been other times, when he’s forced himself to at least try to exercise the most perfunctory of romantic duties. There is no repulsion of unwanted closeness. It’s wholly right.

Until Jane brushes his fingers away. "I know you don't really want that. Goddammit Tavish, I know the way I love you isn't the way you...want me around. I can't stay. I can't keep fighting this one-sided war all by myself."

"It doesn't have to be one-sided," Tavish says. "Maybe we can't be like every other lovey dovey happy couple we’ve put together, but maybe we don't have to be.”

"I..." Jane glances back at the sunset, then to his trailer, the boxes lying abandoned outside.

"Isn't it worth trying? If neither of us really want you going, isn't it worth it to try something a bit unorthodox?"

"You're really mean this." Jane asks it flatly, more seriously than he's ever looked at Tavish before, which is saying something. "Being with...me."

“If I’m going to be selfish for just once in my bloody life,” Tavish says, “I sure as hell want it to be for keeping you.”

“Then...Okay,” Jane says.

“Okay?” Tavish says. He’d hoped—but also hadn’t dared to hope. Had only been concentrating on making sure his words came out in the right order, that he hadn't even considered what might happen if they actually worked. “Even though…”

Jane draws back just enough to put a hand over Tavish’s mouth. “Okay,” he repeats.

“Oh,” Tavish whispers through the fingers when they finally part.

They return to the Keep, and they are heroes coming home to the castle they’ve built.

Those he’d left behind are not waiting like solemn sentries, to Tavish’s immense relief, but they are milling about his tavern with a grimness that immediately disperses on seeing Tavish and Jane enter in together. There is an unspoken and collective sigh of relief, and then they resume whatever it was they were doing before but now with actual enthusiasm.

(What they were doing before was mostly being served Swedish Gloggs by a giddy and unleashed Pyro.)

“Why in Abraham Lincoln’s name is everyone staring at us?” Jane grumbles. It is, oddly, the most comforting return to normalcy Tavish experienced.

“I’ll tell you later,” he says. “Right now, I just want to grab a pint and find somewhere quiet to sit down for a bit. Professor Zakharov, Doctor Humboldt,” he nods respectfully to the pair of doctors as they pass, who in turn raise their mugs in salute.

“Fine by me,” Jane grunts. “Better than thinking about all the stuff I have to unpack.”

“Ah, that’s always the worst end of the packing process, isn’t it?”

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten whose fault it is that I now have to extract all my worldly possessions from a bunch of two-foot cardboard cubes after moving exactly zero miles!”

“You have my sincerest apologies.”

It feels good to say it so easily. The slight undercurrent of tension that’s run between them for years is completely absent, a tension Tavish knows he must have noticed but had ignored all the same. The way he can simply reach up and squeeze Jane’s shoulder like he did ten years ago is staggering.

There is an argument, toothless, jocular, from the table belonging to Mick, Scout, and Crue.

“Just saying you could totally spring for it,” Scout rambles on, thoroughly heedless to the pulsing vein in Crue’s forehead. “Considering you got loads on the side ‘n all…”

“What you are suggesting would cost the entire payout from one of my contracts,” Crue scorns.

“…What exactly do you do for work again?” Mick eyes him from across the table.

With the clearly enunciated syllables of a man daring you to challenge him on it, Crue says, “I am a dentist.”

Tavish chuckles, and leaves them to it. Approaching the bar nearly causes Pyro to vibrate out of their suit, head whipping back and forth with a series of mumbles that is unmistakably pleased. Before Tavish can get a word in, they disappear underneath, humming and clattering about in the various bottles.

“They were hoping you’d come back together,” Dell explains. “I mean, so was I, but they’ve been practicing mixing something special, just for the two of ya’ll.”

When they arise, they have a bottle of cognac in hand, which they promptly upend into a pair of glasses.

“…You’ve been sneaking peeks at my recipe book haven’t you, you little devil?” Tavish asks as the mix appears before him. The only reply he gets is a filter-strained giggle.

The last bit of bitters applied, Pyro ushers the drinks into each of their hands and shoos them off.

“This one of yours, then?” Jane asks, eyeing the drink as he follows Tavish deeper into the stronghold.

“Is not on fire is it? Just one of my little experiments. Though I’ll be honest, it’ll be odd to try the finished product when I didn’t mix it myself.”

The lower level beckons. Helen and Pauling are momentary obstacles, partially blocking the half-flight’s entrance. When she sees them, Pauling flashes the biggest double thumbs up ever seen between the 106th and 107th longitudes.

When they’re close, she prompts, “behind you ma’am,” to her partner, tugging on Helen’s arm to get her out of the way.

“What?” Helen interrupts herself, midway through a sentence about the inefficacy of assassins these days. “No, this is the only spot in this whole dreary bar that has lighting not reminiscent of a dungeon. We are perfectly-”

“Helen,” Miss Pauling says. And Tavish never thought he’d see the day. Miss Helen, terror of Teufort, is obediently led away by her 5’ 1” girlfriend.

The lower bar is free for their leisure. Tavish sits in one of the couches, and immediately there is warmth around him, an arm snaking forward and clutching the front of his shirt.

When he turns his head, Jane stutters, “I uh. Sorry. I’ve just always wanted to…”

“No apologies necessary.” Tavish lifts his free arm and drops it around Jane’s shoulders.

It still doesn’t feel wrong. He hasn’t hit that invisible barrier that always seems to come up when he gets like this, and that both thrills and terrifies him. The idea that it could be waiting for him in the distance, but also that it might not be waiting for him at all.

“Merasmus is going to be pissed at you,” Jane notes absently.

“That so?”

“Mm. He was really looking forward to getting rid of me.”

“Ah. Well if he tries to seek his supernatural revenge, he’ll have another thing coming. I can beat a wizard any day of the week.”

“If you think you’re going to be dueling any wizards without me, then you are a hippie and a fool, DeGroot!”

A smile springs over Tavish’s face. He raises his drink for Jane to toast. “I’d never deny you that honor. He comes rolling down on clouds and thunder to have the bar brawl of the century, you’ll be the one I call to have my back.”

“Damn straight.”

Jane clinks their glasses together, and they swill in unison.

[kikibridges13]

Dancing With Your Ghost | Chapter 9's Medical Breakdown

Chapter 9 here.

Full story here.

Hoo boy this was an easy one to write out, but rough on me emotionally. What you see in this chapter is almost a step-by-step of what I got to witness each day for 6 weeks.

Actually, for me, it was about 8.5 weeks, due to the weather, holidays, and being so damn sick, I was admitted to the hospital about a week before Thanksgiving because my gallbladder decided around that it was going to show it's ass in the middle of all that.

This is an excerpt from the blog that I had kept during that time.

Today's office visit was almost painless. It first started with a 12 minute video on what to expect for Radiation Therapy – which all I could think about during the entire thing was how they could have done certain scenes and transitions differently (my degree has officially ruined me. I'm critiquing medical videos now). However, I did pay attention enough to take in what all would be done, which according to their five steps (consultation, set up, simulation, therapy, and post check-up), I'm onto step three.   Today was set-up. First starting with making a mold of my teeth, which will help the doctors make sure that they are treating the same spot each time. While I was biting down on that disgusting putty for five minutes (which almost six hours I can still taste. Blegh.), a nurse was marking three places on my face that would also help make sure everything was aligned each time during radiation. Okay, I guess I could handle having three tiny blue spots on my face for six weeks. And then she pulled out a needle.   Suddenly I'm not liking this idea anymore. Apparently, these marks only show up under a some sort of blacklight or laser beam because I haven't noticed anything largely noticeable. But the nurse dabbed some kind of ink onto the spots she had made with a sharpie, then used the need to push the ink into my skin.   How do people in prison set there and have tattoos done slowly that way? Because those three needle pokes were enough to make me want to run. Or just wince in pain since that wasn't an option. Good thing I was biting down on something during that.   After those were done, I had to have a mask made that would make sure that I wasn't going to move duri\ng the treatment. It looks like a fencing mask that comes down on the bridge of your nose and has to be stretched to go over your head. So once they had it warm enough to stretch, it was placed on my head and stretched, then locked into CT machine. This is where I felt like the Man in the Iron Mask. I definitely had no room to move, so the thing had done its job. Then they did their CT test, and I was finally free.  

My next blog post would be a month later, because what happens to Buck at the end of the chapter somewhere happened to me. As soon as my first treatment ended, not only did I have that constant nauseous feeling all the way home (and I lived an hour and a half away from the hospital I had to go to for treatments, so I was having to make a 3 hour round trip every day for a whole 10 minute treatment), but I had a constant dull headache the entire time. My parents ended up going to work - they had a second shift job at the time - and about 8 hours after that first treatment, I had a headache as tense we see Buck have. I didn't lose consciousness, but honestly that would have been better than 4 hours of intense pain. My parents came home, took me to the ER, and they gave me a shot of painkillers and sent me on my way.

And then I experienced the same thing the next, including actually sickness and extreme hydration.

But we'll see more of that in the next few chapters.

[4awny]

Kyman Week Day 6 - First Trip

As Eric Cartman.

June 12th. Aged 42. A Thursday. This was the day of my release. 

Let's just address the elephant in the room first. It was second degree murder and I got 20 years. Due to good behaviour, I was out in 15. Coming off my medication was my biggest downfall and none of it would have happened if I just listened to people and got the help I needed.

I still think the guy deserved it, that's something I'll never submit to. I did it for Kyle, but I was also a danger to him too. Prison was inevitable.

He often came to visit. We talked everyday and he was this beacon of hope that got me through the first few years.

Prison wasn't so bad for me. I was terrified at first, but as time went on, I felt a sense of belonging there. I met people who were just like me, people who thought the same way I did. People void of emotions, people that were selfish, people that used others for their own gain. Psychopaths, narcissists. You name it, they were there. I kept clear from them.

It made me realize that I wasn't there to serve my time and be done with it. I was there to be rehabilitated.

After my second year, I cut ties with Kyle. 

He was completely devastated. I refused visits, made zero calls and couldn't bring myself to read his letters. After the fourth year, he stopped sending them. I think it probably broke him.

It wasn't fair holding him back anymore. I couldn't expect him to wait for me and I just wanted him to move on. It was the right thing to do and I have no regrets making that decision.

I befriended a few weirdos. Found a new faith. Lost weight, gained it back. Made connections. I still thought about him. Everyday I thought about him. 

As I approached my tenth year, I got the news that an old friend passed away. I was heartbroken. They buried him in South Park cemetery, where mom is. I still miss them both.

The later years were tough. Things started to change in there and I was struggling to cope. I came close to calling Kyle on so many occasions, but I always ended up disconnecting the call when I heard an answer. I only wanted to hear his voice. He has no idea how much it helped me.

Then one day, after around the year twelve mark, I heard a different voice. I hung up quickly, distraught. Desperation kicked in, like an old habit. I spent the next few months calling frequently and I didn't stop until I heard Kyle's voice again. Relief, because it became an obsession and I was doing so well up until that point. I broke the chip and tossed the phone for my own sanity. I promised myself that I wouldn't contact him again.

I got an early release, which I wasn't expecting. I said goodbye to home and before I knew it, I'm walking through the doors to freedom.

I'll cut the boring details. Two years go by and I got a car, an apartment and a job. I had a girlfriend too at one point, but it didn't work out. I broke it off, but she was also pregnant, so we remained friends.

The anniversary of Kenny's death came around, so I went to the cemetery to pay my respects. Just when I started to pray, I heard my name being called.

I turned around immediately and there he was, standing opposite me with flowers in his hand. He was just as stunned as I was and neither of us said anything for a few moments. I didn't have my glasses on, but his face was as clear as day.

His hair was shorter, he had a beard and the color was less vibrant than what I remember - more faded. My knees almost buckled over. He ran over to me and we crashed into each other. I silently sobbed into his shoulder and I couldn't let go.

"You'll be fine, everything's gonna be okay." He told me. He always knew what to say.

He took me to a diner and we stayed in there for hours, talking. I told him I had a daughter on the way. He didn't attempt to hide the surprised look on his face, but then he blurted out that he was divorced and I laughed hysterically.

It was so fucking typical of him.

He was curious to see where I lived, so he came home with me. We went the long way back, whatever that meant because it was only a ten minute drive. I think he just wanted to remind me of all the memories we shared together. Reminiscing, like old men.

I consider this our first trip together. Call it a trip down memory lane. My next and final story is where it ends.

6 / 7

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You'll be fine - ao3 for notes and shit

dayum im 5 mins late today 😭 whoops

[stuckinthe00s]

Why I've chosen to NOT date for a while...

Not dating/being celibate makes you truly see men for who they are. I started this journey on December 4th of 2022, and now as of May 3rd, 2023, it's been 5 months for me. Almost anyways. Within these 5 months, I've better understood myself and decided on the kind of relationship I want with men. I'm going to go over some things that I've been doing with my time in the course of my dating hiatus.

Focusing on my studies

I'm currently enrolled in Interior Design classes so that I can further my career and become the successful woman I aspire to be. I decided to take my education a step further and enroll in some architectural & project management classes as well. I realized I wanted to do this when I turned in some of my interior design projects and noticed that the more I apply myself, the limit does not end here. Regarding education, you can enroll in as many classes, get as many degrees, & pick up as many skills as your heart desires. I want to be done with my studies by a certain time frame in 2023. I want to make a certain salary amount by a certain age time in my life. While on this hiatus, my career is my first priority. No argument.

2. Building my financials

I have 4 credit cards I knew that I wanted to pay off this year, staying focused and keeping my eye on the prize got me down to 2. Did you hear me? 2 out of my 4 credit cards are PAID OFF. These last 2 will be a breeze. I know I want to have a certain amount in my savings by the end of the year... month by month I have a goal of what to save that month, with this mindset I'll be to my end-of-the-year savings goal in no time.

It's cool and all having a man to be there financially and for help, but as a woman, having your own is so much more powerful. It makes the dating scene easier to pluck out the men that aren't on your level. Being a girls' girl and a strong advocate for my ladies, always make sure you are your first security blanket. A man that can equate or makes more than you, is just a plus.

3. Re-branding ME

I've rebranded myself this year probably about 3 times... and we're only in the 5th month, but that's ok! Start over as much as you need to girl, to get to where you want in life start over 100 times if needed. I know the kind of woman I want to be, I know my "Dream Girl". She's sexy, she's a boss, she's powerful, she's assertive, she's charming, she's smart, she's rich, & she is THAT BITCH.

4. Working out/eating healthy

Although this step is something you should be doing while you are dating or not, it's easy to fall off. It's easy to get lazy. In my opinion, anger gives people ammo to work out and go harder in the gym. That isn't my case, but it's true. When a girl/guy just breaks up with each other, they're going hard in the gym for the next victim. For me, it's more on a personal level, while it is flattering to look good for the male gaze, you have to want to look good for yourself first girl. That will build so much confidence and not have you just out here dating anybody, more so those who are insecure.

5. Realizing my standards

Finding yourself while staying away from men for a while will tell you exactly the kind of man you need to be dating anyway. You didn't do all this work building yourself from the ground up to go out and date a bum right? It all starts within. I advise everyone to have standards. Those people (man or woman) who say they don't have a "type" scare me. What do you mean? Everyone should have a type. Whenever I hear that statement, the voice in my head just tells me "This person will probably sleep with anything with a vagina or penis". It's disgusting.

I feel as if as women, we're required to have a type. By default. Having a vagina is powerful in its' own way. On my hiatus, I know the type of men I'm willing to date/ sleep with once I resume and the ones I will rather kayak across the ocean to stay away from.

6. You see men for who they really are

Let's be real. Men are visual creatures. Once they see you look good, they're automatically telling their penis that they would sleep with you. You can look good all day, be the sexiest thing out of this world but looks can go so far. We've all seen someone attractive af and told our friends "Oh, I'd !@#$ him". It's human. But once you get to really talking to a guy and they tell you when their last STD test was, you'd snap to reality quickly. They just make it so easy.

The more conversations you have with a man, the more information you get out of them because they tell on themselves. I've raised my eyebrows during so many conversations because it's just a shocker at how they think.

While I hope this was a valuable and informational lesson for you ladies, please understand that it's okay to keep the cat to yourself sometime. You may really need to.

xoxo 💋

[hjemne]

Long rant. If my housemate turns up strangled then you're not allowed to use this in court against me or whatever. My genuine opinion is that this guy needs amphetamines and financial hardship, and he's not going to bother getting better without that

Housemate has 6 exams to pass, then one more year of university. Housemate has taken 2 years out already. Housemate goes to Very Prestigious University who very rarely lets people take 2 years out to begin with.

Housemate moves in mid-April. Literally does not leave the house for over a month. Lives off deliveroo. Does negative amounts of housework. Comes out to shower twice a day for 30+ mins with boiling hot water. Otherwise is in his room 23/7. Turned down all offers to socialise 'until after exams' starting two months before exams.

Housemate does not go to revision classes. Housemate does not go to lectures. Housemate does not do anything.

Day before first exam, housemate realises he misread his exam timetable. He has not prepared for the exam the next day. This is somehow not his fault. Housemate decides to take a third year out. Housemate misses the first exam. Housemate's father flies across the world to support him.

Housemate schedules a meeting to discuss taking a third year out. The meeting is at the same time as his second exam. Housemate misses his second exam. Very Prestigious University decides he cannot take a third year out. Housemate thinks this is unfair, because one person in the past was allowed to take three years out. Housemate does not appreciate how exceptional it is to be allowed to take even two years out. Very Prestigious University gives him a very generous compromise of averaging his mark for the final four exams, ignoring the two he missed. Housemate does not appreciate how exceptional this offer is.

Housemate has 6 days between the meeting and his first (third) exam. Housemates sister flies across the world to support him. Housemate decides the day before his first (third) exam that he is dropping out. Housemate immediately gives up at the second first sign of trouble. Housemate wants to change to a different course but stay at the Very Prestigious University. Housemate is fucking deluded about his reality.

Meanwhile, I have sat 6 exams in 8 days at the same Very Prestigious University, representing over 60% of my final grade for my entire 4 year degree.

Housemate has ADHD and depression. I have ADHD and depression. Housemate faced close family bereavement last year. I faced close family bereavement two months ago. Housemate is sad because 5 years ago he was 'falsely accused of rape' and lost friends. I was raped by my domestic partner last year and could only start processing it a few months ago when my housing no longer depended on staying with my rapist. Housemate thinks he has suffered more than Jesus on the cross and so should get special exemptions to university rules (he also thinks he should get his third year off because he misread the single paragraph rule around taking time off). Housemate doesn't seem to consider that other people also have things going on in their lives, but which they have to push through and deal with by actively engaging in the support available instead of months-long self-imposed isolation. Housemate told the university staff who have been helping him that it's the university's problem if so many people are struggling. Which may be true but is a bold fucking move from the guy who has done nothing for multiple years and then expects the university staff to bail him out last minute and do what he wants them to do.

Housemate is also a terrible housemate. Housemate continues to misgender NB housemate. Housemate owes NB housemate hundreds in unpaid bills that he forgets about. Housemate got me alone in his room at 2am and tried to kiss me despite me giving zero indication that I in any way wanted that. Housemate does not do the very very simplest of household tasks despite multiple verbal, texted and printed reminders. Housemate leaves blood (from acne) in the bathroom for others to clean up. Housemate is so goddamn useless and willfully, deliberately ignorant that he doesn't bother trying to unload the dishwasher "because he doesn't know where plates go" my brother in Christ you have spent four months in this house and it is a tiny fucking house!!!!!!! Use your eyeballs you obtuse motherfucker!!!! do you not have a shred of curiosity or independence?? Is there truly nothing going on upstairs?? It's not even that he needs everything spelled out for him, because no matter how many reminders he gets, he still doesn't do it. He needs everything done for him. He doesn't even get his groceries from the shop 5 mins away bc he gets everything delivered. He is 23. He has actively and deliberately cut himself off from others, and then moans about not having a 'proper university experience'. He genuinely seems to believe in his own self-importance, genuinely seems to believe that rules should bend around whatever he wants to happen. He thinks he's the world's specialest and most persecuted little guy when he's really just an incompetent man who cannot function without being coddled by mummy or without being bankrolled by daddy, who is driving himself further into his mental health spiral by refusing to face up to responsibility or reality or consequences. And he can afford to do this because his family are extremely wealthy, so he can always find an escape from doing anything even slightly hard. Because family money gives him the ability to do nothing at all! And so he wont! Because he's not even attempting to manage his ADHD, and so he will always procrastinate until the last minute, then use his money to wiggle out of it anyway. It's destroying him!! And he's destroying my sanity!

I'm going to start tearing him limb from limb with my teeth.

Only positive is that I now look incredible in comparison. Doesn't matter what grade I graduate with, because I at least will graduate

[machinavocis]

so

we will be moving to tucson arizona sometime this year around late april/early may

but i'm not buying a house yet. gonna start out in an apartment with a six-month lease, mostly just so that roommate can first Experience the Summer™

(we spent a week there in november & he REALLY loved it, was totally 100% raring to get out there asap, but i mulled it over for like another day before coming back with "alright. ok. see. in order for me to trust that this is truly an Informed Consent Choice, i feel like i need us to be there for Death Heat Season, & once we're in the middle of the 6 straight weeks of 110+ degree temperatures, if you can THEN, in THAT MOMENT, look me in the eye and say again YES I WOULD LIKE TO CONTINUE TO LIVE HERE--at THAT point we are GOOD & i am FULLY BACK ON BOARD.")

i do hate the idea of dealing with more rental nonsense, landlords, etc for another most-of-a-year, but like...this is objectively the smarter, more responsible path to take here. since my number one priority is to make super extra certain that roommate doesn't experience quality-of-life-worsening health complications from the climate & such. not to mention it WILL be WAY the fuck easier to house shop locally vs. from another state, plus i'll have time to scope out neighborhood vibes, read up on + get prepped for the whole ADU construction process, find a good realtor, etc.

i'm...actually lowkey hella optimistic about it. which has taken me a bit by surprise.

i had a lot of little experiences on that november trip that i just felt stack themselves up in my mind both logically &...almost spiritually..? & coalesce into this weird broad sweeping sense that This Choice Would Be a Correct One.

(not THE Correct One. i feel like--at least just for me--there are a couple different paths i could take that would feel Equally Correct. tbh if it was just me alone i'd probably be heading to either denver or seattle or chicago. (vetoed by roommate for being respectively Too High, Too Wet, & Too Cold--which, fair on all counts lol.)

more thinking-out-loud (via-blogging-in-silence) on this to come in the next couple months probably. all of january & the first half of february are Mini Death Work Blitz Time this year, so i have been & am still doing that. but one month from yesterday i will have launched TWO BIG OL WEBSITE PROJECTS & then i get paid ALL THE MONEY AT ONCE & then i'll probably sleep for like three days straight & THEN i'll have the headspace to start thinking about how many things need to get done in order for moving to successfully happen. :D fuck. :D :D

[looosey]

Lucys Main Quest: Hireability

I work very hard. In fact, I'm working all the time. I work all the time very hard, but I'm still not hireable. I have very few hireable skills.

1. Hireable on Resume

When I look at my resume, I am pretty distant from it, because it has few lines of substance and even those lines I don't really resonate with.

The best possible read of my resume is: she can code python and has done so for MIT labs and classes. Okay???

But can she code a server? Has she ever deployed a personal website? Does she know how to use public API's? No... Can she solve coding challenges? No. (Is she passionate about anything she has learned so far at this institute?) [1]

To think I have to put in hours outside of school to achieve these things makes me sad. I spend most of my hours outside of classwork on dance, painting, cooking, reading, writing, listening to music, and traveling on MIT money. When @tumblasha and I talked about dream job assignments, mine was organizing Lollapalooza. It was not programming graphics, video, and music software for the entertainment industry (as is written on my resume).

2. Hireability at MIT

My friend recently switched her major to design (in her junior year of college), and that's changed her MIT experience 180 degrees for the better. Which is inspiring because imagine if you aligned all of MIT's resources to back what you're actually passionate in. You would be unstoppable. You could do anything you really wanted.

It would be a shame to let go of this opportunity, a shame to trickle down the path of least resistance. Because I'm hard working enough to manage the burden of the path, but not hard working enough to sit down and forge my own.

I wanted to write something about hireability since the beginning of this semester. MIT's career fair was last month, and even before that I had an inspiring coffee chat with an MIT alum/startup CEO (I stepped in for a friend who wasn't feeling good). This Friday, I went to Harvard's creative careers fair, which was a small thing held at the top floor of the smith center. It was small and exclusive, see side story [2]. But I met an artist manager from Chicago who worked with people on Lolla last year. An old white grandfather. A Bizarre exchange continued.

He was very interested in my passion about music work, I was interested in the fact that he worked on Lolla, and I handed him my resume which had a bunch of technical gibberish on it, and he told me that he hadn't thought about paying his interns this summer but this could change if needed.

It was bizarre because I didn't know what I wanted from that exchange. Would I drop everything and be okay with bringing nothing MIT-grade to the table as an entertainment hunchman?

3. The future of things

But all is not lost at the same time. Inklings of hope arose this semester. I'm working towards something, because my classes have FINALLY began to move from fundamentals/tools to how to use this tool to build something of your own design. I can finally speak creative stories because I have learned enough of the technical vocabulary. So now, it's the next step: if I had a portfolio full of work that would attract the right crowd what would it look like?

My goal by the end of this school year is to have a resume I am proud of. Not by Course 6 standards or industry standards. But my own. To have done personal projects I want to show off to people and a body of work that speaks for me.

[1] I feel this cognitive dissonance/out-of-body experience when I read my resume... Exactly like when someone asked me who my favorite artist was and I responded Sza. I was weirded out at myself because I felt like I was lying: yes, I listen to her enough, but like I can't name multiple albums of hers. I am not a fan fan. I am a fan fan of Tyler the Creator, Billie Eilish, and Ariana Grande. But they didn't come to my head at all. What is going on????

[2] Security stopped me on the first floor because I was an MIT student with an email invitation but was not on their registration form. They let my boyfriend with a Harvard guest ID through. Harvard Career Advisors stopped him on the tenth floor because it was for current registered students only and then told him "you can go sit at that chair over there though." And let me through. So much gatekeep.