#i haven't even plugged in my kEYBOARDS

[rezdragon]

I'm trying to resist the urge to work on art right now because my fucking office isn't ready yet

[gold-onthe-inside]

pair programming

A software development technique in which two programmers work together at one workstation. One, the driver, writes code while the other, the observer or navigator, reviews each line of code as it is typed in.

part one: driver

who? spencer reid (s1) x analyst!reader what? prequel to greylist; you invite yourself onto a case to help penelope after an unsub runs a blackhat operation onto her set-up, getting to know your best friend's team in the process. word count: 3.9k (sort of turned into a case-fic) content warnings: elle's shooting is mentioned, reference to SA a/n: this got seriously long, i'm so sorry, i hope you all like it, and part two will be coming - based on when penelope gets shot

“What kind of MIT graduate is a technophobe?” you asked, even as you were plugged in next to Penelope's workstation. Your eyes are glued to the screen, parsing through each line of code as Penelope wrote it. It was rare for you to get this attached to someone, but Penelope's hard not to let in with her funky earrings and sparkly glasses and chunky bracelets.

"The kind with three PhDs, apparently," she replied, before cursing softly as she notices you correct her code.

"Ugh, that sounds insufferable," you mutter, curling your upper lip, rubbing the small ache that was growing in the back of your neck. You've been at this for hours, helping Penelope develop software that can identify the tiniest detail from CCTV footage, invasion of privacy damned. You knew it's an ethical line you have to blur in counterintelligence. But you've found your groove and if you lose track now, who knows when you'll both get a chance to sit and write again?

"He's not that bad, actually," Penelope said, blue eyes watching her screen intently, manicured nails clacking over her keyboard, chewing the same gum she had popped in when you'd both started. "He's not exactly a looker, not like my darling Morgan. Did I tell you he called me baby girl?"

"How romantic," you said dryly, reaching for the packet of Twizzlers you were both sharing. "He didn't know your name."

"You haven't seen him," Penelope said, her voice dreamy. "He's beautiful, the Adonis to my Aphrodite--"

"You know Adonis died, right?" you asked her, raising a brow and she tossed a Malteser at you.

"Stop ruining my fantasies!" she cried and you snickered under your breath.

"I'm not picking that up. Anyway, more importantly, what's Agent Greenaway like?"

And so it goes for another hour, until you both swap roles, and you're complete focus and drive and determination as you get these codes out, and Spencer Reid is nothing more than a name picked up in conversation.

You're good at your job; clean, organised, a hard worker with an eye for detail and little else in your social life, and so when Penelope's picked for the BAU, you're working your way up in counterintelligence, surrounded by more testosterone than Penelope. She's unorthodox, hasn't come up the way you have; you were astonished when you found out that she taught herself to code, dropping out of CalTech a year after she joined. It's why you offered to be her navigator, and you only really stay at your desk if you're working with privileged information. Otherwise, you're spending off-time with her, writing programs and algorithms, helping her multi-task when there's an overwhelming amount of information to track.

"My co-workers never get me flowers," you said, walking in with your laptop under your arm, a hand going to the yellow flowers arranged in a bouquet by her station and she spun in her chair, grinning giddily.

 "They're from Gideon," she gushed and you raise a brow as you smell the daffodils.

“You know I don’t judge age gaps, but isn’t he starting to bald?” you asked and Penelope was already rolling her eyes as you picked up the card to read it.

“It’s not like that,” she insisted, watching you frown at the neat printed writing. “What is it?”

“Agent Gideon doesn’t write like this,” you said, wrinkling your brow, showing her the handwriting and Penelope shrugged.

“Maybe he wanted it to look nice.”

"I know I can be challenging, but your work is appreciated. J. Gideon?” you read out skeptically. “A) he’s not self-aware enough to call himself challenging, and B) he doesn’t sign off on messages like that. I’ve seen your Christmas present from last year.”

“You don’t know that,” Penelope retorted and you cock your head at her. “He-He was apologising for last week, when he was on crutches and—”

“Was being a total pain in your ass?” you asked with a chuckle, sitting down and opening your laptop. “What’s the going rate for daffodils these days? 10, 20 dollars?”

“What are you doing?” Penelope asked, then looking horrified as you’d already hacked your way into peeking at Gideon’s recent debit and credit purchases.

“No florists here,” you declared, showing her. “Although, he goes to the Smithsonian a lot.”

“He likes the bird exhibits, what are you guys doing?” came a confused voice from behind the both of you, and your eyes fall on a gangly, tall man, with a very unflattering yellow shirt with beige lines that matched his tie and trousers, brown hair tucked tightly behind his ears.

Penelope quickly slammed your laptop shut with a quick “Nothing!” and he furrowed his brow, spindly fingers fidgeting in front of him. You glanced at Penelope, trying to follow her cue.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” you asked, the kind of tone you’d use with your own co-workers who linger around your desk, trying to copy your programs.

“Considering Gideon’s my boss, I’d like to know why you’re investigating his finances,” Spencer said, doing his best to exude confidence, but he didn’t quite manage it, his hands going to his pockets, and your cool stare makes him swallow. Oh, he’s going to be fun to play with.

“We’re just evaluating whether Gideon’s gonna ask Penelope here on a date,” you said, just to mess with him and keeping a straight face even as she shoved your shoulder, and he choked, his neck flushing red. “Oh, maybe he’ll take you to his cabin,” you add, looking at Penelope excitedly. “A couple glasses of wine, a nice dinner, light some candles—”

“I’m gonna shove this keyboard so far down your throat, all that’s going to come out are bit strings!” she cried, trying to clap a hand over your mouth as you laugh and by the time you look back at the door, he’s gone. “I think you’ve scarred him for life,” Penelope sighed, exasperated, smacking your shoulder hard and making you wince.

“Ow, no sense of humour, any of you,” you grumbled, rubbing your shoulder, and actually getting down to do the work you’re supposed to be doing. You like Penelope’s company, more than the kind of guys you’re surrounded by in counterintelligence.

You’re supposed to be parsing through online communication on a website potentially linked to a terrorist organisation in Somalia, waiting for your decryption program to finish running it, walking into Penelope’s den to find her pulling her apart her CPU, muttering to herself. “All work and no play?” she demanded at her array of screens, “All work and no play, huh? You just wait till I’m through with you!”

“Um… you good?” You asked, leaning against her doorway. You haven’t seen Penelope this angry since she’d been called into work the night they had tickets to the Pixies’ reunion tour.

“Someone had the nerve to run a blackhat op into my computers!” she cried, looking at you, red streaks in her crinkle-cut hair. “They hacked me, okay? But you can bet your sweet ass, I will find them. I've got honey pot farms hidden behind UML kernel data packets and a first generation honeynet I personally programmed. My snort logs list every visitor, every server request, every keystroke on this entire network. If I have to back-hack his I.P. all the way to the frickin'stone age, I will find this son of a bitch, okay?” As angry as she sounded, her blue eyes were welling up and Somalia was forgotten as you pulled your own chair up.

“What can I do?” you asked and her phone rang, Penelope groaning as she stood up, jamming the answer button with the back of her screwdriver.

“What?” she demanded irritably.

“I need a rundown on a guy,” Morgan said and you frowned — as far as you knew, the rest of the team was on vacation, what with him telling everyone on the floor, including yours, about all fun he was gonna have at some Jamaican resort in Montego Bay.

“No,” Penelope said, shortly.

“No?” he asked and your hand came up to Penelope’s elbow.

“I can take care of this,” you offer and it seemed to take some steam off of your best friend. “Talk to me, Morgan,” you said, rolling your chair over and setting up on your own laptop. “What do you need?”

“Run a Frank Giles for me, would you, sweet thing?” Morgan asked and you huff, pulling up your deep background check program to run his name.

“Call me sweet thing again and I’ll feed your fingers to Clooney,” you replied, hearing him chuckle over the landline.

“My bad,” he said. “What do you have for me?”

“Hey, I’m working on a CPU half my usual size, gimme a minute, will you?” you replied.

“You’re a hard woman to please.”

“No fun in making it easy, is it?” you quip back as your results get back to you. “Frank Giles left Jamaica last night on the red eye. He flew to Florida, then got onto another flight to Virginia,” you relay to him.

“He’s from Virginia?” Morgan asked, confused.

“He’s got an address in Arlington,” you continued. “Long criminal record too; murder, robbery, sexual assault.”

“A guy was murdered in the resort here, head was cut off,” Morgan explained to you. “What are the chances you can find him for me?”

“Please, this stuff is child’s play,” you retorted, glancing down at Penelope on the floor. “This is what you do all day? Look people up?”

Penelope looked up from the floor at you. “Hey, I’m in a very vulnerable position right now!” You suppress a snort, working on ID’ing the victim.

“The room’s rented to a man named—”

“Marty Harris,” you said. “Also classic bad guy, fetish burglar and registered child sex offender. TSA flagged him, he was travelling with Giles.” You flex your fingers, cracking your knuckles, your blood not quite up.

“Alright, thanks, mama,” he said before hanging up and you scrunch your nose at being called that. Derek liked to flirt, and despite your best efforts, he’s not averse to being threatened. You spend the rest of the day backhacking the guy, Frank Giles on the back of you mind.

“How’d he get in, anyway?” you asked, frowning at your laptop. It’s not as well-kitted as your cubicle downstairs, but you can’t leave Penelope in the lurch like this.

“I don’t know,” Penelope cried, “all I know is I was in Camelot with Sir Kneighf again—”

“At work?” you asked, looking up instantly and the colour leeched from Penelope’s face. “Pen, no!”

“It was my personal laptop, I didn’t think—”

“Your laptop doesn’t have the same security, Pen, Christ!”

“I know that!” she yelled, her face fierce. “God, you don’t think I feel horrible enough already, and I can already see Hotch’s face when he finds out—”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry, listen,” you say automatically, scooting forward to comfort her. “Listen, it’s gonna be okay, alright? Whoever this guy is, he took advantage of you, alright? That’s what these guys do. They wait around until they find the weak link and strike.”

“I’m the weak link!” Penelope cried and you tutted, putting your laptop away and hugging her.

“Hey, no, you’re not,” you insisted, taking her glasses off so they wouldn’t get in the way. “You know how many cases these guys have solved because of you? How many lives they could’ve lost if you hadn’t found the right guy or the right address in time? Don’t beat yourself up over one mistake.”

And that’s exactly how clear you make yourself when you hear Gideon call her stupid — standing right by her side when she tells the entire team the truth. You’re not part of the team, Gideon’s not your supervisor, and it’s the first time you’ve met most of them face to face really, which makes it easier to stand your ground.

“You’d all be lost without Garcia’s technical skills, and you know it,” you said, defending your friend. “So, yeah, she made a mistake and the hacker got into your personnel files. It doesn’t explain how he knows all the other details of your life. It doesn’t explain how he knew about Morgan and Greenaway going to Jamaica, or your appreciation of the Chicago White Sox , who, by the way, haven’t won a championship since 1959 until last year.” There’s a moment of silence where Gideon just blinks at you, Elle suddenly very interested in her fist as her brow raised, and Aaron’s gaze bored into you. Spencer didn’t know whether to look at you or Gideon; you with your firm gaze and fingers curled around Penelope’s, or Gideon with his worn out expression.

“So, how did he find all this out?” Aaron said eventually, and the heat passes as they all move on. You glanced at Penelope, nodding subtly as she mouthed a ‘thank you’. Elle caught your gaze as you started to leave the profilers to their work, dimples forming on her sleepy face as she tried not to smile.

You have your own work pending, writing up a program to feed the decrypted communication through that would flag recurring keywords, in Penelope’s den still. This close to evening, your supervisor wouldn’t care anyway. The hours you put in excuse you from actually having to sit in your cubicle. With the only two seats in the den occupied, Spencer was pacing behind Penelope who was busy backhacking Sir Kneighf.

“The card we got of Nellie Fox was from 1963,” he was saying to noone in particular, and you had the feeling he just didn’t want to be in that conference room alone, but his pacing was starting to get on your nerves. “But the team that Gideon’s fond of is actually the 1959 team.” You shared a glance at Penelope, slipping into telepathy.

“Can’t we get rid of him?”

“Not without making a mess,” she said with her face and you repressed a sigh as he kept going.

“So the code has to be from a book from 1963,” he said, twisting on his heel to face Penelope. “Is there a database that lists all the books published in a given year?”

“Individual publishers have lists, I don't think there's anything like a master one,” Penelope answered him. “Plus it would depend upon the year, because the further back you go, the less likely there'll be any database at all.

“And definitely not for 1963,” you piped up, Penelope nodding along and Spencer looked at you with a furrowed brow, then back to Penelope, leaning over her shoulder.

“Could you do me a favor? Type something into a search engine for me?” Spencer asked and Penelope scowled at him.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she replied and as if you could tell the work would be shifted onto you, you attempted to surreptitiously leave, but Penelope’s hand latched around your wrist. “Weren’t you just wishing you had something to do?”

“No,” you tried in vain, “No, my program’ll be done in a couple of—” Neither of them were falling for it and Spencer was starting to pull out this puppy-faced look and you groaned. How did you keep getting in these situations? “Fine, put your face away,” you said irritably, sitting back down. “What am I Yahoo-ing?”

"Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man's sight,” Spencer recited, watching you type rapidly.

“It’s from ‘The Parliament of—”

“Fowls!” Spencer exclaimed, “I knew I’d heard it somewhere.” It was too late in the day for you to handle his excitement with any kind of grace, sharing a look with Penelope who simply shrugged, like he was always like this. “Yeah, yeah, Chaucer, my… My mom used to read it to me,” he said, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze… like he was ashamed of something. “It’s widely considered the world’s first Valentine’s poem.”

“Your mom read you Valentine's poems? Hello, therapy,” Penelope muttered under her breath and you smacked her arm playfully, Spencer too deep in thought to see it.

“The poem’s not long enough for it to be the book,” he said, still looking puzzled. “The code we got referred to it having at least 283 pages—”

“And it’s not from 1963, either,” you added dryly.

“Something published in 1963. A butterfly indigenous to Great Britain, so something from Great Britain,” he said to himself and you furrow your brow.

“Fowles,” you said, and it was like everything made sense. “With an e, Fowles. He wrote a book, The Collector, in the 60s,” you kept going, Penelope looking at you with an impressed gaze, Spencer hanging onto your every word. “It kind of matches your case. This lonely young man kidnaps a young art student and holds her in his cellar at his farmhouse, keeps her there for years, and she assumes he’s going to torture her or sexually assault her, but he’s waiting for her to fall in love with him, and he’s convinced she will, and by the end, she falls ill and dies. When he finds her, he wants to commit suicide, but he reads her diary and realises she never loved him so he buries her and the book ends with him thinking about abducting another girl.”

“Oh my God,” Penelope gasped, looking horrified.

“Yeah, it wasn’t great,” you replied, frowning and scrunching your nose. “The whole thing was in first person. It was weird to read.”

“Right, that’s the icky part,” Penelope said, dryly.

“We need to check it with the code, and it has to be the exact edition he has,” Spencer interrupted before either of you got side-tracked and you rolled your eyes, going into your bag to pull out your e-reader, connecting it to your laptop. Spencer hovered right above your shoulder, so close you could hear his breathing, feeling warmth flutter against your cheek, and you cleared your throat.

“Ever heard of personal space?” you asked irritably, turning to look at him and he looked back down at you, barely an inch between you two, and then he stammered out an apology as he stepped back, all while Penelope smirked at the two of you. While the book transferred, you worked on quickly creating an algorithm that would search and flag the given word on a given line, on a given page, and despite yourself, you’re a little impressed when Spencer recites each number from the code that the unsub had sent Haley.

“Show off,” you muttered under your breath as he quickly wrote the resulting poem onto a legal pad in chicken scratch writing.

The path to the end began at his start. To find her, first calm her long broken heart. She sits in a window, with secrets from her knight.

“Well, that isn’t medieval,” you said and Spencer frowned at it, scanning it over and over again. Without another word, he darted out of the office, leaving both of you bewildered. “You were right, he is an odd duck,” you murmured, staring at the open door.

“Should we follow him?” Penelope asked, looking at you.

“I’ve put off my own work long enough,” you said, shaking her head and Penelope nodded, understanding.

“Thanks. For sticking around,” she said softly and you smiled at her faintly.

“Always.”

You should go home. Shower. Sleep. But Elle’s been shot and you can’t leave, not in good conscience. You hate yourself for being this sentimental, this soft but that’s what Penelope does to you. She softens you, makes you kinder, makes you laugh. If it had been you who had lost a teammate, Penelope would have been glued to your side.

So you stick around, blinking sleep out of your eyes, settled in the BAU’s kitchen with a cup of coffee and a bagel, both stale, looking for coded messages. Not for the first time, you think about where you could be. Coding for Apple, or Microsoft. Developing software in Silicon Valley. They don’t have stale bagels in Silicon Valley.

You stretched uncomfortably in your chair, gaze flitting up to the conference room, the bullpen stretched out between you and the BAU. You’re not a people person, or you weren’t before you met Penelope. You preferred the solitude of your cubicle, or you thought you had. The very virtue of your profession had left you without other female friends, and the ones you had before this job had drifted away. Counter-intelligence was by its very nature an isolating field, and Penelope was one of the few who didn’t mind your secrets. But seeing this team rally, even if Gideon had yelled at her, seeing them work together, as irritating as it had felt in the moment, filled you with a sense of loneliness. All you had was Penelope, but you weren’t the only one she had. Far from it.

That’s what prompts you to approach the older woman sitting alone in the conference room with her journal. Sitting by the window. “Hi,” you said meekly, stepping into the room, clocking the visitor’s badge on the woman’s sweater. She’s wearing a pale flowery dress, her bag sandwiched between her side and elbow. Her hair was short, like a boy’s, and blonde, and yet, something about her painfully reminds you of Spencer. Something around the eyes and the shape of her face.

“Is it lunch time yet?” she asked without looking up and you frowned, looking out the window to see the sprawl of Quantico blanketed in the dark blue of the night.

“Uh, no, not yet,” you said, sounding lame even to yourself. God, this was such a mistake.

“I'm lecturing everyone in Tristan and Iseult. They're all gathering in my room after lunch.” the woman said, looking up at you, and you offered a smile.

“Which version?” you asked, pulling up a chair as the woman gave you an impressed look.

“Malory’s. Beroul’s seemed too long to assign. You’ve read it?” she asked and you shook your head.

“Not in its entirety,” you replied somberly. “Not a lot of downtime with my job. But I know the gist of it.”

“Shame,” the woman said, letting out a sigh. “I always say, the best way to read a book is to listen to someone read it.”

That’s when Reid rushes in, relaxed until he sees you sitting in front of his mother, his temple creasing, and you raised your hand, waving it at him with a sheepish smile. “We uh, we found Rebecca,” he said, looking between you and his mom, two worlds colliding sooner than he would’ve liked. “You saved her life, Mom,” he said softly.

“Who’s Rebecca?” she asked and his smile evaporated, glancing at you for explanation but you shake you head.

“She’s not lucid,” you murmured, watching him swallow, his cheer dissipating.

“Oh,” he said quietly, blinking as he processed it, looking at Diana as she continued to write, and you stood up to leave. “Thanks,” he murmured to you as you walked off.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, brow creasing and he looked at you with a boyishness that stops your breath.

“Thanks anyway,” he insisted and you nodded curtly.

“Elle okay?” you asked.

“She will be.” So you pat his arm and leave him with his mom, shaking off the fondness you’d started to feel for him.

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[vividraft]

thanks to you I like the rain ✧˖*°࿐

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gn!reader x scaramouche

⇢ ˗ˏˋ summary: you moved into a new house, and a certain boy who you saw everyday, certainly cuaght your eye...

⇢ ˗ˏˋ note: this is a repost from my old account, which i deleted (@/rainstops),, and yes i combined all the parts

⇢ ˗ˏˋa/n: my old writing is all so... bad (cry) tbf i could have put more effort into it

When you moved into your new house, you didn't expect to see the same boy at your bus station every day. When you first saw him, he was wearing a white shirt, jeans and a light brown jacket. The spring breeze was cold. his eyes were lowered onto his phone, and a few strands of his purple hair fell into his face. 

you didn't move that far away, which means you still went to the same school, and as far as you can remember you never saw him before in your school. not even once he looked up from his phone, and he kept his headphones plugged into his ears at all times.

everyday you saw him, and not once did he look at you once instead of his phone. everyday you got on the same bus as him, but never got off the bus at the same time. Sometimes you saw him on the bus after school, but rather rarely.

Then suddenly he disappeared like he had never entered your life. you didn't see him anymore. you still took the same bus every day around the same times, but he didn't. it was crazy how a boy around your age you never even talked to can make you think about him that much.

That's when your mothers work shifts changed. She now left the house around the same time as you, and offered to drive you to school, every second week. and without hesitation you accepted her offer. Who would prefer to squeeze into a bus every morning?

Then one week, your mother was sick so she did not leave the house. which meant you had to take the bus again. 

Unfortunately it rained that day. maybe you could make it to the station without arriving soaking wet? Well, you couldn't.

this was probably the only time he noticed you first. The purple haired boy laid his eyes onto your wet school uniform, and on your hands which were probably cold from the temperatures, which were holding your phone, whose screen was covered in raindrops. you tried wiping them away, but your hands were just as wet as your screen. if not, then even wetter.

he let out a quiet sigh as he got a step closer to you, holding his umbrella over your head as well. That was when you noticed him as well.

you looked up to see what stopped the drops of water falling onto your face, when your eyes met with a transparent umbrella. your vision followed the hand who was holding the umbrella, to notice the boy, which you had missed a little, even if you didn't know him. his eyes were glued onto his screen as always, and white headphones still in his ears.

"thank you", you smiled.

Those were the first words he ever heard from you. you weren't sure if he heard you since he was wearing headphones, so you checked for small changes in his usually unbothered facial features. 

he pressed his lips into a small line, and blinked an unusual amount of times, as his shoulders seemed to relax.

"n...", he started, like he was rethinking his decision to say something.

"no problem"

-

you started wondering, how come you haven't seen him for so long?

but it actually just makes sense. He always takes the bus when you don't, and the other way around.

and now you were standing here with him, in the rain. his hand holding the transparent umbrella which was shielding the both of you from the cool drops of water.

your hair was messily sticking to your forehead, and yet although you looked like a mess, scaramouche still thought you looked mesmerizing.

just the way one of your hands was holding your phone, which your eyes were so focused on, while the other held onto the wet bottom rim of your shirt. the way the fingers of your one hand were dancing across the keyboard of your phone, trying their best as your hands were shaking from the cold. Scaramouche wanted to help you escape from the cold as well, but so far, there was nothing he could do.

The bus arrived, and you slid your phone back into your pocket, as scaramouche collapsed his umbrella after freeing it from most of the cold water still lying on the umbrella.

In the bus, two seats were free, which was perfect. scaramouche got to the seat first, his eyes on his phone just like you were used to it. he didn't say anything, but you could tell he made space for you, when he left the outer seat free. On days where there were more than two seats left, he sat on the outer seat since he preferred it if no one sat next to him. but not this time. 

you let yourself down on the seat next to him, and laid your hands in your laps, in hope to be able to warm them up, to no avail. scaramouche noticed, and took something from his pocket, to hand it to you. to your surprise, it was a rechargeable pocket warmer which... looked like a purple cat paw.

"are you sure-", scaramouche didn't let you finish your question when he placed the pocket warmer into your hands. 

Thanks to him, you finally warmed up a bit further.

your bus was about to arrive at your stop, and you wanted to give scaramouche his pocket warmer back.

"Thank you again for helping me today, here's your pocket warmer", you held it in your hand for him to take, but he shook his head.

"Keep it... until next time", he whispered the last three words while turning his head back to the window. 

you haven't thought about it much, but to you, his voice felt like a warm summer storm, with warm winds. you wished you could hear it more, but it seemed like he wasn't much of a talker.

you let out a warm chuckle, not thinking much of it, but for scaramouche, it made his heart bubble up. a sensation he wasn't sure if he ever felt before. 

"See you buddy", you placed a hand on his head while standing up to leave the bus, waving at him with one hand, and holding the paw pocket warmer in the other.

Scaramouche would have given away his stuff to just anyone. He wasn't sure when he would actually see you again, because unlike you, he did not understand yet why you just showed up again. 

The pocket warmer was his reason to talk to you again, and see you again.

-

after what happened the last time you saw scaramouche, you considered taking the bus at the same time that he does. but then again he didn't leave you much of a choice, since he gave you his pocket warmer. you had to return it to him.

just as planned, on the following day you saw him again. except this time you were not soaking wet. 

"hey!", you waved to him. 

"Here's your pocket warmer", you held your hand open for him to take his pocket warmer back. He took it and immediately put it in his pocket.

At this time, you didn't even know his name yet. and you wanted to know it, you really did. but would it come across as creepy if you just asked for it?

Scaramouche on the other hand is not sure why he took a liking to you. Maybe it was your [hair color] hair, or your eyes that seemed to light a spark, everytime you see a squirrel run up a tree, or maybe it was the way your shoulders loosened up every time you smelled the wind after a night of rain. or maybe it was just the way you greeted him every morning with a smile? all those small traits of yours that he noticed, made him feel a certain way. a way, he wasn't sure he felt before.

you decided that it was fine to ask for his name. if he wanted to be friends with you as well, then he'd be fine with the question.

"By the way, what's your name", you tried to make it sound as natural as possible. it  still felt unusual. you've known him for so long, yet you barely ever exchanged a single word.

"scaramouche", a short and simple reply.

Scaramouches mind played with the thought of asking you for your name, and he decided that it would be the right thing to do. his lips parted as he wanted to ask for your name. but you were faster.

"Cool name! mine is [name]", you replied.

That's how the both of you started to talk to each other everyday. But I don't mean actual conversations, all you say to each other everyday is "hi" or "good morning" or sometimes only a nod. you weren't sure if this was the way scaramouche wanted it to be, or if neither of you knew how to continue. but for you this was what made it worth and exciting getting up every morning.

you expected everything to stay the way it did, which made you upset in a certain way. a way which you couldn't explain, because could you really consider you and scaramouche friends? 

you stared on the floor when you noticed the bus arrive.

entering the bus you and scaramouche noticed the two empty seats once again, right next to each other.

The bus drive went along as usual, as you felt something heavy on your shoulder. it was the purple haired boy's head. his eyes were closed and he was very obviously asleep. his usually tense body and face was now relaxed, and for once he looked so very peaceful. He looked like he was sleeping unbothered for the first time in his life. 

for a short moment you considered waking him up, because you knew how he was going to react, if you told him he fell asleep on you. but then again you would want him to sleep as much as he needs. The bus ride was still for a good 15 minutes at least.

Shortly before you got to the station closest to your school, you decided to wake scaramouche up. but you weren't sure how. you decided on saying his name a few times and nudging him with your shoulder, because you soon noticed that saying his name wasn't enough. He blinked, his eyes still lidded. 

"Good morning sleepy head", you smiled at him. "i have to get up here, sorry for waking you"

Scaramouche continued blinking, very confused, until he understood why you had to wake him.

"did i...", 

"Yes you fell asleep on my shoulder, but don't worry about it!", you said, getting up from your seat and heading towards one of the doors of the bus.

you waved at the scaramouche once again, and instead of waving back, he turned his head away to hide his flushed cheeks, but you could still tell because his ears were red as well.

a/n: cringes and shrinks away...

[whirligig-girl]

Ooze that's learned how to pilot

Eaurp held up the bright yellow disk cassette with one hand and shook their other hand until their fingers threatened to fling off. They emitted a high pitched whine, and a hissing sound, in addition to the sounds of wobbling jello from their shaking body.

"What is it?" Slamtha said.

"ITS! MY VERY OWN COPY!!!" They said, still vibrating with an intensity that never failed to amaze her.

"Of..." Slamtha said.

"Whuh? Oh! I told you about it!" Eaurp said. "During History class?"

"Oh right. Starship simulator?"

"SHUTTLECRAFT SIMULATOR!" Eaurp said. "Come on! Let's get to a library computer!"

"Oh... I dunno," Slamtha said. "I'm not sure I'd be very good at it."

"Oh pleeeease Slamtha? I'll go clothes shopping with you even though thinking about clothes for too long makes me want to dessicate!"

"Hmm. Alr--"

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Eaurp said, grabbing and tugging Slamtha's hand so hard they almost melded together.

Slamtha laughed. "Ok, ok, fine, let's go."

At the library, Eaurp plugged the disk cassette into the disk drive, and opened up their account on the desk terminal. Slamtha scooted up next to Eaurp with a laptop terminal in hand.

"I got to try this before, at the Starfleet booth at the job fair. Apparently they don't even distribute these for personal use, I had to write a letter to Starfleet's public relations department, and then I had to use the disk burner in the computer science lab."

"Oh, why didn't we just go play in the computer lab?" Slamtha said.

"They're running on like 15 year old mainframes. I think it might still work, but only if I set the computer up as a single partition. And I don't want to get kicked out."

After the disk drive lit up green, Eaurp grinned at Slamtha, who stared back with a neutral gaze.

The menu loaded in as a faux-LCARS display. Eaurp had already been through the training level on a Type-9, so they skipped it and went right for the Class-F, the vintage shuttlecraft that they used to use on the original Enterprise.

There was a barebones character select function, since they were in multiplayer. Slamtha chose a generic human woman. Eaurp figured they may as well do the same. The session began, and Eaurp walked their character around the shuttle, taking in its details. The graphics were so realistic, they must have been based on original schematics to look this good.

The mission was simple--land the Class-F on the M-class planet in a storm, drop off supplies, then take off and return to orbit.

Slamtha and Eaurp's characters sat down. Eaurp leaned over Slamtha's console, pointing out all of the individual displays and controls. Eaurp sat to Slamtha's left, so they couldn't see her frown.

"I... don't think I'm cut out for this," Slamtha said.

"Oh come on, you haven't even tried it yet," Eaurp said.

"Ok, well, don't say I didn't warn you."

Eaurp flicked the internal power switch, then used the communicator item to call for the airlock doors to be opened, and then engaged the antigrav tractor-pressor, and slowly rose the shuttlecraft off of the hangar deck. Eaurp looked around, scanning for the manuevering thrusters. She flicked a switch, and the simulated computer made a satisfying clickit-a-clickit-a sound. She pressed the arrow keys on her keyboard and the translation joystick on the shuttle moved forward.

"As soon as we get out of the shuttlebay, we'll be outside of the Constitution's inertial dampeners. Be prepared to keep us pitched right. Crossing through space doors in three... two... one..."

"Ah!" Slamtha shouted, as the stars suddenly lurched and spun.

"Woah! Woah!" Eaurp said. "Turn on auto-inertial dampeners!"

Slamtha frantically looked across the simulated console and the keybind popups and grimaced. She settled on hitting the spacebar. Both character's views got thrown back into the seat as the impulse engine was activated. From there, it all happened fast. The game lagged a few frames, then the warp nacelle got larger and larger, and then the shuttlecraft clipped into the nacelle. The shuttle shook and vibrated violently as horrible collision sound effects overlapped.

"Woah, look!" Eaurp said, switching to the external camera. The shuttlecraft was clipping through the great big cylindrical warp nacelle, with the impulse engine still firing. "They simulated the reaction control system on the Constitution!" Manuevering thrusters shot bursts of gas from the ends of the Consitution's warp nacelles, from behind the covered grates, fighting the impulse engine exhaust from the shuttle.

"WHAT DID I DO?" Slamtha shouted.

"Haha! I think you mixed up the stabilizer key and the impulse engine ignition, right at the same time that I mixed up the ventral translation key with the throttle keys!" Eaurp said.

"So... it wasn't my fault?" Slamtha said.

"It's both of our faults!" Eaurp said.

"Oh. Hah. Hahaha!" Slamtha said. "Ahaha. I thought... nevermind."

"What?" Eaurp said.

"I... I dunno. I was nervous because I knew you'd be so much better, but, ahah, we both just really suck at this!" Slamtha said.

"Let's go back to the tutorial level and try again!" Eaurp said. "The LCARS layout of the Type-2 is a lot simpler, and they do a pretty good job of simulating it here!"

"Ok, ok."

5 years later

Tears and melted sclerae rolled down Slamtha's cheeks, dripping onto the command console. She was pretty sure she still remembered how this thing worked.

Why had Eaurp left her. Why had Slamtha's kin turned their backs on her. Why had everything fallen apart so quickly. Things were finally good. They were finally good. She was a glob-dam astronaut candidate for the United Mellanus Space Program. She was going to get to do archaeology on another planet!

But! She tore it all apart! This little psychological episode was gonna make sure she'd never see the inside of another spacecraft again. So she'd better make this one count.

Slamtha sobbed, barely able to see the LCARS display and the front window. She saw the mellanoid space program safety officers running back to the shuttle. Now or never. She tapped the impulse engine control and the engine ignited. The shuttlecraft slid on its nacelles like skids, until she pressed her fingers to the steering widget, just barely managing to pitch up in time to avoid hitting the wall at the edge of the spaceport.

Ascent to orbit usually only took a few minutes, but Slamtha had other plans. She tilted straight up, climbing in a straight line path out of the atmosphere, rocketing ever higher and faster. She wiped her eyes clean and tried to reform them, and got one last look at the planet below.

"Alright," sniffled Slamtha, "which one of these is the warp engine?"

Slamtha swiped up on the main control panel and then found a promising looking button, then tapped it. The rescue shuttle jumped to warp, aiming no particular direction except for far, far away.

Slowly, Slamtha's cardiovasculature calmed down, and her skin softened, and she thought about what had just happened. Then she started crying all over again. What had she done. Maybe... maybe if she just turned back now and explained what she had been through, then... no. She'd just stolen one of the only warp capable ships on Mellanus, and taken it on a joyride. She'd never be able to go back. What was she going to do? Set a course for San Francisco and run into Eaurp? Slamtha didn't even know what star Earth orbited. Maybe the LCARS in the shuttle did.

She didn't want to see Eaurp again. That backstabbing good-for-nothing so-called "friend" who abandoned her just because she couldn't handle a fraction of the transphobia that Slamtha had to put up with her whole life.

She had her own ship. She could go anywhere. She could go places that didn't care if you were a woman or not. She could find some... alien university, maybe? And finish her archaeology internship somehow? But... but... no, no, none of this makes sense. Eaurp got to escape! Why couldn't she escape? Why couldn't she--a red alarm flashed on the screen, indicating a ship was approaching. They were hailing her.

"Fuck." Slamtha said. "It's probably the Feds come to arrest me. Ok, ok, act natur--"

The ship shook violently as a bright green light fired at her.

The display panel read "shields down."

A green tractor beam locked on. Slamtha tilted her head to look up above her. That wasn't a Federation ship. It was huge, dark green and orange, winged, with glowing red spikes coming out of the hull.

"Computer, identify?" Slamtha said, her voice shaky.

Vessel is a heavily modified Orion Class-II freighter. Klingon derived engines and type-V disruptor strips.

"That doesn't sound like a freighter."

It wasn't.

[nimblermortal]

Why are there wraiths in my gardening game?

A Wildmender review

The point of Wildmender is that you are given a big ol' desert, and some plants and gardening tools. The plot is superfluous.

So why do the wraiths keep attacking me?

I beat the game! I murdered their leader! Why are they still staging attacks at regular intervals!

Okay, that said, the difficulty settings are super easily configurable in many different ways, so you can turn wraith damage off, etc, to make the game fit your needs and desires. I haven't actually messed with this because I'm cool with smiting a wraith every so often. Also, on standard difficulty you can just surround your home base with tower defense sigils and they will literally take care of everything up to and including the final boss for you. With the teleportation system, all you have to do is go home when a wraith attack occurs, and then lead the attackers to their doom. So the wraiths don't have to be a problem.

I really like climbing around a 3D world building my garden. I think there's a lot of end game potential - I really want to see if, if I upgrade all the springs fully, I can fill the channels of the salt flats with water, for example. (In which case I will need some sort of swim mechanic to get more pearls to upgrade the rest of the springs in the game.)

I liked how you can just garden your way past the game's obstacles. You're supposed to have a special bracelet for the salt flats to keep them from draining your water, but if you just fill your inventory with acorns and revive every spring you come across, the water drainage is manageable without that.

I think there should be more plants. There are a lot at the beginning of the game, and then toward the end it starts to feel kind of repetitive, you've got some half dozen base plants that come in different skins and all the loot is the same. You could get some really cool DLC in there by adding end-game quests to revive old strains of plants, explore seed bunkers, etc.

It's also a very lonely game. You are literally the only living creature in the world when you start. Oh, there are the gods, and your tutorial leader, but once they run out of tutorials it's just... you and the plants. Which is great! It's exactly what I'm looking for! but the loneliness creeps on you. Maybe I'm not hugging my frogs enough.

(Pro tip: Collect pearls from the salt flats and feed them to your frogs not for the upgrade capability but so that they glow purple and you can find them more easily.)

I had a lot of fun, but it would be more fun in co-op. I really want to play with Tea, but Tea cannot handle combat at all - I was hoping for a combat-free game, and then I was working on my save to beat the final boss so that the wraiths would go away so I could get Tea to come garden with me. So that's really why I'm upset about the continued wraiths. (Mind, Tea doesn't have a Windows operating system to work with, so the day is far anyway.)

Blooper Reel

It's about impossible to play the game without a mouse. You can't strafe without one, and even climbing the spiral staircases was extremely difficult. (The difficulty level dropped dramatically when I plugged in a mouse. Wraiths were a minor concern compared to getting the timing right to WASD myself around a spiral staircase with no rails.)

The game does not prevent you from going off the edge of the map, it just puts a really big cliff there. So if you want to push your boundaries, empty your inventory of important material first. I do not recommend jumping off the cliff with all the easily-obtained instances of the most difficult resource in the game. Usually you can reclaim your body, but not if it's rolled off the bottom of the cliff into doesn't-exist land.

The game tells you that you can cycle through tools using the keyboard shortcut T. It does not tell you that if you have a mouse with a scroll wheel, you can also use that scroll wheel. For a long time I thought it was the worst glitch in the game (there are others) and also that the game was poorly designed in terms of giving you about a dozen tools that you have to keep jabbing T to get round the circuit of. I still think a hotkey system with numbered tools would work better.

It took me a really long time to find out the cape of winds was useful. I got it to tick off the quest box, and then kept on climbing and using the vine bridge mechanism. Once I figured out the cape holy crap were the salt flats less miserable. up down up down up down infinite umbrella mushrooms...

[legacydevice]

Do you know what old pc I should get for retro gaming?

Thanks for the question! Keep in mind that this is written from the assumption that you have no/very basic knowledge of older computers, so I apologize if this comes off a bit patronizing! Even if you know quite a bit, other people reading may not and I want to make sure people are knowledgeable before making a purchase!

If you dont care about hardware, and your current pc can handle it, I'd recommend setting up a VM with the operating system of your choice (windows xp would probably have the most flexibility). Look up a tutorial on how to set up a VM with VirtualBox, and you can easily find .iso files of your operating system of choice online. (Obviously be careful of what you download). This is also convenient because if you dont own physical copies of your games it's pretty easy to get the files from the internet archive and transfer them to the VM! If you need any more help with this, feel free to send me an ask and I can help you out!

If you're a hardware lover like me though, I definitely understand wanting to have the experience of the real thing! Please keep in mind im not totally educated about specs and technical stuff, so take my opinion with a grain of salt and look for others input as well (followers please add on / correct me)!

A lot of it depends on the kind of games you want to run, if you're fine with only 2d games you should be fine with most computers that have an appropriate cpu/ram for the year it was made! However, running 3d games will definitely need a good gpu. There are plenty of people on ebay who sell custom built computers geared towards retro gaming, I'd recommend looking into listings of those even if you do not want to buy on eBay just to get an idea of what you would like!

I personally use Facebook marketplace to look for old computers that I want to buy. A lot of times you can get pretty good deals on there! While not a gaming oriented computer, I got my micron millennia, including the crt monitor, keyboard, mouse, and speakers all for $80! It also runs pretty much any games I want to play on there, but I haven't tried any beefier 3d games yet so I'm not sure how it will do with those. You can also check local thrift stores around you as well, I've been able to find a Dell optiplex for $40 once before. I would recommend local shops rather than goodwills since most goodwills usually sell their good stuff online for auction, but it doesn't hurt to check if you're feeling lucky!

Keep in mind that buying locally very much depends on if you can drive/have access to a car, so I totally understand if this isn't an option for you. I also have only ever lived in the US so your buying options will probably be different if you are in another country. If you know of any local retro tech enthusiast groups, they could probably help you out specific to your location! Again, Facebook is a good resource to find local groups.

The other option is buying from eBay. It will be more expensive because of shipping but you can at least get something more geared to your specifics and it's more convenient if you do not have access to transportation. Searching up something like "custom retro gaming pc" or "vintage gaming pc" should help you out!

Also, if this is your first time buying an old computer, or you do not have any experience with technology repair, you may want to buy from someone who has that experience and has already refurbished the computer for you. Blown capacitors and shitty power supplies are no joke, they can be very dangerous! If you absolutely need a computer that is advertised as not working/not tested, take it to someone who knows what they're doing before plugging it in. Again, I apologize if this comes off as patronizing but I want to make sure everyone is safe and no one has any bad experiences that may turn away people from this hobby!

Another recommendation I'd give is to get something you like! I know this might be a bit obvious, but I really like windows 98 because of nostalgia reasons, and my roommate would often ask me why I didn't get a pc with windows XP. Personally all the games I want to play run fine on 98, and i'm willing to use a VM for games that need XP. Get something that makes you happy if it is within your budget and convenient for you!

I apologize if this is a bit rambly! I'm waiting for an oil change and im bored lol. Other people feel free to add on and im willing to answer more questions if needed :)

[oldguy56-world]

Change of Habit

I'm back baby, I'm back! Being a creature of extreme habit it was quite off-putting for me not to blog last Monday. As mentioned in a prior communique we had a house full of people for an early Christmas prohibiting me from breaking away to sit at the keyboard. I tried doing it after they left on Wednesday but I couldn't. Monday is blog day. (How Sheldon Cooper of me). Today I am back on track and all is right in the world. To honor this occasion I have brought out an old movie title to set the mood. This one featured Elvis as a doctor (yes THE Elvis) and Mary Tyler Moore (after being Laura Petry and before she became Mary Richards) as a nun. It was the 60's and anything was possible. It was the perfect title to go with for the topic of the week which is 'Habits and How to Break Them'. I am stepping outside my comfort box as I have always preferred to do things the same way vs. change them up. There have been exceptions over the years and I will try to share them with you without breaking into tears at the torturous memories.

I always ate burgers with just mustard. One day I was at my friend Paul's place (his parents actually as we were young) and they had no mustard so I tried Ketchup. It was great so now I get them with just ketchup. Every now and then I will put both mustard and ketchup on them as there is a bit of a risk taker in me.

I always parted my hair on the left side (I tried it in the middle once and I freaked out) until the last 7 years. Now I don't. This probably has more to do with the hair not being there to part but it is still a major change for me.

Being one of the earlier users of the one finger salute to drivers that cut me off I was very proficient at it. Now I secretly hide it by holding up all five fingers. They think I am waving.

I have not eaten a donut in 11 years. This from the guy that would go to meetings early just so I could have some before the others arrived and they would not know when I snarfed down more during the meeting. (I suspect they knew but said nothing because who orders 9 donuts?) I went to work at a place where there was a Timmy's right inside so I decided not to have any while I was there to stop myself from blowing up. All went well so 7 months later when I moved on I just kept doing it. And I haven't blown up yet!

I quit smoking when I was young. I bet you never knew I smoked? I did. I tried 1.5 cigarettes and knew it was not for me so I quit cold turkey. I have tremendous will power when I put my mind to it.

When I start to watch a TV series I feel invested in it and have to keep watching it until the series ends. Recently I was able to cut this off for the first time. The Equalizer should be an action show. I don't care about the daughter's problems, or the aunt's problems, or even the Equalizer's personal problems. I want to see some butt whooped and kneecaps shot. I pulled the plug on it this year. It only took me several seasons to do so but I am very proud of this accomplishment.

I played Candy Crush for 2 years and was up to level 13,000 before I realized it was never going to end. I stopped and although I went into withdrawal for a while it has been coming up to two years since I crushed anything besides my hopes of winning a lottery.

Currently I am attempting to change some of my daily habits (other than Mondays of course) but these things take time. Some things still need to be done a certain way. I am quite certain I will buy my bag of playoff cheezies when the time comes, although maybe if I change things up the Leafs will win this year. Who knows. Is the win more important than my mental stability? We shall see.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: When you put your mind to something there is always a chance it might turn out better. Might is a scary word.

[anneapocalypse]

It's really fascinating, looking back at my first impressions of Inquisition.

(Long rambling reflections follow!)

For one thing I had forgotten just how much trouble I had initially with the combat mechanics, with how different they were from the first two games. I was really struggling, and I think that had to have affected how the early game hit for me--it's difficult to take in a lot of the details when you're just trying to get a handle on the controls. It's always a challenge for me re-training my brain and muscle memory for a new game, but I think I'm much better at it now--these days I'm pretty frequently hopping back and forth between Dragon Age and FFXIV, very different games, without more than some hiccups.

I was playing exclusively on console at the time, and despite Inquisition's control scheme skewing heavily toward console, I much prefer it on PC. But I prefer basically everything on PC these days if I can get it. And still, the first time I played Inquisition on PC, I had to plug in a controller. Now I'm quite comfortable keyboard-and-mousing it, but it was a more difficult adjustment for DAI than for the previous two games, which I picked up pretty quickly.

It's genuinely funny reading my frustrated old liveblogs about TPKing in the Hinterlands, because... I've just reached that area in my replay, I'm playing the same character at the same difficulty level, I haven't even touched the companions' tactics yet, and I'm having no trouble taking down enemies. Even back then, I was like "This is just me being Bad at Games," and well, it was. :P I kinda have to conclude that I'm just plain Better at Games now! (The fact that on this playthrough I immediately crafted my own armor and weapons, which even with the most basic of materials still well outstrip the default kit, might also have something to do with it.)

One thing that has not changed: I hated the tac cam then and I hate it now. :P I still basically never use it in Inquisition.

Another thing that was clearly a big adjustment for me was just... this updated, higher-res vision of the world. In one of my early liveblogs I described it as feeling like "a weird fever dream about Thedas" rather than Thedas. Eight years and five playthroughs later, Inquisition is now fully integrated into my mental landscape of Thedas and I don't feel that way at all. Inquisition added a lot of new stuff, and it certainly recontextualized a lot of things we knew about the universe, but it doesn't on the whole feel like a departure from some pure vision to me; it's just a part of it.

I see a lot of criticisms and complaints in my early liveblogs. There are some that I still agree with. There are a lot of things that would be addressed, explained, or otherwise resolved later in the game. Like early on I talked about not being a big fan of "Chosen One" narratives, and in fact it turns out that the Inquisitor isn't a Chosen One at all, or at least it feels to me very intentionally written so that you can reject that reading, and the whole concept of Chosenness gets pretty thoroughly deconstructed later on. I made a crack about Haven having all these rough-hewn single-room cottages with fancy gilt-framed portraits on the wall--but even that starts to make more sense when I am reminded that Haven has been under the control of an Orlesian nobleman who married the Fereldan lady who owned the land, and in the intervening ten years it has become a pilgrimage destination for Andrastians with the means to make the trip--many of them likely Orlesian. That just wasn't something I was going to put together on my first clumsy playthrough, but now I see it. I do still have some lingering dislike for the word "Inquisition" being used for this organization and the whole game--I still kinda think it has a bit too much real-world baggage attached to it--but I've softened a little on that since playing Trespasser because I do think the game itself is meant to be subtly critical of the Inquisition as an institution. I was put off by how Leliana had grown away from her Origins self, but I've really completely come around on that since coming to better understand the things she's experienced in the intervening years. I read certain things as narrative framing the audience was meant to agree with which I now read as simply subjective in-character opinions (and which sometimes even have pushback from other characters.) I was really harsh on "The Dawn Will Come," which I read a lot differently now than I did then. I even unthinkingly repeated that now-extremely-tired joke about how there are barely any dragons in Dragon Age, which, embarrassing. :P (To be fair I didn't know about all the high dragons yet, but uh, still.)

I can confidently say today that the hair options are indeed bad--but also that they looked way worse on console. I stand behind wishing female dwarves were a bit broader and stockier, and I know I'm not alone in that. I was also mad about the continuing lack of dwarf romances, on which point I do have to concede that 2014!Anne was extremely valid. (I hadn't yet discovered the Harding mini-mance at the time, but that's still not a full romance).

I also said this:

For real though unless Skyhold has been protected by some kind of ancient elven magic, I can’t believe this game seriously expects me to believe this enormous and highly defensible fortress that is  strategically placed near the Orlesian border has just lain empty for decades--

lol.

Going in, I see that I had pretty low expectations for the story but was really excited about the characters. Which isn't a bad approach to take necessarily (the characters are indeed great) but I also think I let a lot of the fandom climate at the time really... poison the well for me. When everyone's experiencing new canon for the first time, criticisms are inevitable and normal, but they can also get amplified and then sort of codified by that amplification and consensus to the point where, when the thing is actually addressed or resolved later in the story, it has an uphill battle to shake that already-crystallized idea that Thing Bad. (And that's to say nothing of the collective effect of so many people going in already having decided before the game came out that it would be Bad.) There are Thing Bad takes about Inquisition that are still common to this day, which I would have agreed with on that first playthrough, but no longer do because I've come to read them in a different light. More than anything, I regret being swayed by all the Sera hate I saw on my dash at the time to the point that I was honestly kind of afraid to give myself a chance to like her. When I finally did give Sera a chance I fell completely in love with her and she's ended up being one of my all-time faves.

Apart from that though, I was really loving the characters. I loved Cassandra, I loved Vivienne, I was digging the Josephine romance hard (and I'm so excited to finally finish it).

I actually put out a post asking followers to tell me if it was safe to proceed to close the Breach without finishing the Hinterlands because it seemed way too early to be endgame and I didn't want to lose any quests!

I wandered away from my first playthrough (and kinda from Dragon Age overall) somewhere mid-game, after "Here Lies the Abyss" but before "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts." Looking at my old liveblogs I see that I was really loving my character, Calla Cadash; I made a lot of enthusiastic posts about her and her romance and friendships and I was even writing a ficlet series, and yet I do think that I was struggling a bit with her motivation to be in the Inquisition. Now that I've brought her back for a do-over, I think Calla is a great character that I'm going to love playing; she just wasn't a great first character for this game. Eleanor Trevelyan was the kind of character I needed to get me through my first playthrough: faithful but baffled, terrified but compassionate, a character who meshed easily with the plot and was motivated to do all the sidequests and most importantly had nowhere else to go. She was a perfect First Character. And once I knew the game and the story, it was easy enough to make up reasons why my other Inquisitors would stick around and become invested, and I got to start exploring other perspectives--but I needed that kind of First Character to get to know the story first. (Being a multi-world-state mess does work out well for me here. 😉)

As a part of this playthrough, I recreated my very first Warden, Jolene Cousland, and replayed her on PC. She is probably one of the more boring Wardens I've created, but it was fun to revisit her all the same, and more importantly she was a perfectly good First Character to introduce me to the game and the world. She worked. I still like her. I never really had a First Hawke, exactly, since I played Default Hawke the first time (super out of character for me but a friend at the time talked me into it; "Default Male Hawke is the best Hawke" was very much a Thing at the time 🙄). So I went ahead and made myself a new Hawke, Mallory, to fit into what is now my Rogues Gallery world state, and had a blast with her. And now, I'm back to Calla to finally give her the full story she deserves.

I've read through my old Calla posts, and some thing about her are definitely going to change, because I no longer have that First Playthrough pressure to see everything sitting on me. I get to focus on building the character, and seeing new things, and having fun with her.

It's been fun, if surreal and weird in some ways, to revisit that first playthrough and what my first thoughts on the game were, and how much my view of it has changed. I will certainly have all of this in mind when Dreadwolf comes out, and I have it in my hands and am experiencing it (and probably trying to learn a new combat system) for the first time.

[thegoldenshi-shi]

I am having an internal crisis. Outside influence is swaying me towards drawing Sides and Sunny in tuxes/suits/dresses, and I am very much itching to do so. This itch is also making me want to pull out my patterns and start making my cosplays again, one of which is a papillon inspired dress shirt and jacket. And I haven't drawn or tailored in a /hot/ minute, not to mention that my sizes have very much changed, and aren't particularly congruent enough to make a shirt, or any form of top other than a crop top, so I am FIGHTING not to do it

Also, working on cleaning my room still, stars above was it a mess, is a mess. I have however cleared out my desk area! And my computer is back to functional cause my friend is a saint and gave me his old graphics card (sly bastard, he didn't tell me that's what he was gonna do so I couldn't refuse) so now I just need to get the fans connected to the motherboard (frankencomputer isn't a joke, they were directly connected to the psu, wherein the old psu had the wires welded into the thing so I couldn't just transfer fan wire onto new psu, so fans are dead in the water as of right now. Cause new psu doesn't have the right thing, a male plug, to be able to connect them). But! It's functional again, blessed be, and so with a lot of external things factored in, including me generally keeping my room temp at almost 60°f and two external fans that I was able to clean and set up around it, me and two friends were able to play modded mc last night! Which was fun, first time playing co-op with my friends in a month.

On other news, my desk is tiny, so with computer back I physically do not have space to comfortably art, so I am gonna see about getting some stuff set up to scooch the moniter and keyboard so I can have desk space to use my pencils and sketchbooks. Largest issue with drawing Sides in a really frilly dress is my issue of not being able to draw humanoid things. I can't get proportions straight. (Damb my useless brain, not able to have images in my mind, remembered or imagined, kills my ability to art)

And work is. Fucking awful right now, actually. We have someone that has been here for almost two months, and he is a misogynistic dirtbag. Our warehouse is severely lacking in Y chromosomes, and I am unfortunately in the closet at work due to bigotry against queer identifying folk, so I count in his mind towards the *problem*, and he won't stop flirting with me. Which is gross, he's twelve years older than me, which were I older and twelve years weren't such a significant part of my lifespan I wouldn't take issue with. But I worked retail and fastfood in places that made me feel as if I was part of the product to be sold, so people older than me, especially men, flirting with me is a really yucky feeling. Not to mention there is this thing about him, I don't entirely know what, that has me feeling an awful mix of scared and angry about him? There's just something off about him, and maybe its that he insists on trying to talk to me alone, or maybe it's that I have disliked him from when he first started flirting with me, or maybe its him triggering ma and SV's gaydars, but whatever it is is gross and I don't like it. Oh, and apparently he drives the forklift smelling like alcohol, which I wouldn't know because I try to keep one me-height away from him at all times, at least.

Happier note, with summer coming around, I will get to enjoy having ladybugs randomly cropping up in my room and eating wasps again. Which was funny as all hell to discover the first time, cause I always forget they're carnivorous and predatory, as well at that thick exoskeleton and forewings they have meaning that actually stinging them is damn near impossible for the wasp

~Smooch

Hello again Smooch~ The urge to draw robots in clothes happens to every mecha artist at some point I think… And I don't care HOW good you think you are at art, trying to slap Fortress Maximus in an evening gown or Deathsaurus in a three-piece suit is going to break your brain. I can't help you with proportions I'm afraid, since that's just something you have to learn over time. (As they say: repetition is the mother of mastery). But, I can say that dresses are easier to draw on robots than suits. If you want to draw suits, brace yourself to give them weird cutouts and things to make room for kibble. Examples A and B (with your preferred boys hehe)

Since you can sew cosplays though, that wouldn't be an issue for you I'm sure. I'm trying to fight the urge to sew unnecessarily as well. I too am an odd size so I'm always having to get my mom to tailor and/or make me clothes. I'll have to send you some pictures of my finished pieces on discord sometime~

It's good that you were able to play with your friends, a functional computer is a blessing. 60 degree bedroom is less of a good thing, but I guess it's the price you have to pay for the computer blessing right now hehe. I'm not ashamed to say that everything you listed about your computer woes flew completely over my tech-retarded head, but it sounds like you've gone through a lot to fix your problems. I wish it was as easy as replacing parts to fix your work-place issues. If you're lucky, your problem dude will get fired for being intoxicated at work or for being a butt. Me wishing won't fix your problem of course, but I really do hope that it gets better for you. In the meantime, enjoy your ladybugs eating wasps??? I didn't know that ladybugs could or would eat wasps, so when I read your ask I was flabbergasted. It makes sense that they can since, as you said they're carnivorous and heavily armored, but still…wasps?!?!

[raspberryconverse]

So last month the director of marketing decided to try a new thing for the monthly marketing meeting: a fireside chat with someone on the team. I asked my boss if he wanted to do it and he said, "Don't you dare volunteer me!" I mentioned that I wouldn't mind doing it and he said I should. I'm the only one who volunteered, so I'm next.

The first guy (who was kinda voluntold) had a fireplace background on Teams. I do happen to have a fireplace, however, we had it closed off because it was "a danger to society" as my spouse likes to say. I even have the opening covered in plastic (like you do with the windows in the winter) because there's still a cleaning hatch that air gets in and you can hear it rattle when it's really windy. So I had an idea.

At first I was going to put the TV in front of the fireplace and have one of those fireplace YouTube videos playing. Spouse said absolutely not. Then I tried using my personal laptop, but the screen is too small and the only way you could see it was if I had it on a TV tray table right behind me. You could see the tray table, so I wasn't really digging that either because I had to position my pillows just so.

I do have a 23" monitor, but it's so old it doesn't have an HDMI input. I do have a VGA to HDMI adapter, but my spouse is currently using it because their monitor is so poorly designed (the HDMI input is blocked by the mounting plate on their monitor arms- which I bought at cost because my company is an office supply distributor). I don't have a VGA input on either my work or personal laptops, so I wasn't sure what I was going to do except hope my spouse didn't have to do work during the meeting or secretly use the TV like I planned.

Then I remembered my old laptop has a VGA input because it's older than the monitor. I got my new computer in 2018, so I literally haven't booted it up in 6 years. I did have the hard drive files transferred to my new computer when its hard drive died (for the 3rd time 🤬). I tried to boot it up, but for some reason the touch pad was working, but not clicking and the keyboard wasn't working at all. I borrowed my spouse's keyboard (they don't always use it for work) and tried to login.

Well, I got this weird "user profile cannot be loaded" error. I found a fix to it online and after about 20 minutes of the disk error being fixed, it booted up. The track pad was clicking, but the keyboard still wasn't working. Then I remember one of the deciding factors to me getting a new laptop was that only a few of the keys worked and I had already replaced the keyboard twice (the battery also didn't hold a charge, so it had to be plugged in at all times).

Here is the end result:

I originally had it on an Ikea cardboard storage box, but I didn't like how that looked and again, had to reposition pillows just so to block it. I happened to have this 10x10 plexi cube from when I worked at Bath and Body Works (it has a crack, so it was just going to get thrown away), so it works pretty well. And I kinda like that you can see it's a monitor in front of the fireplace.

I'm kinda hoping the director of marketing asks about it because boy, do I have a story about getting this to work. If anything, it'll be funny when it's my turn to talk.

[danwithouttheplan]

sorry if you're getting tired of the axolotl song stuff but I just think it is incredible. did you compose the song? if so, what DAW did you use? any cool vsts? sample packs? I absolutely loved it

Oh, I love talking tech! I still consider myself an amateur in the ways of production, but I'm always working on getting better. None of this is by any means the best way (or even a good way) to do anything, it's just how I did it.

I did compose the song, yes - musically and lyrically (other than the first line of the first verse, of course). I use Studio One for my DAW. I got it a good number of years ago and I've liked it enough that I haven't moved to anything else.

I don't play drums and I don't pretend to write drums, so all of the drum tracks are just standard midi samples from EZdrummer (although I did add the tambourine and shaker).

I normally hate using ribbon mics with my voice, but I think I used a ribbon mic through a preamp with built-in channel strip. Other than stock EQ and compression, I threw vocals and bass through some simple LANDR plug-ins that I got as a pack. There's a bit more post-production on the vocals, but nothing notable. Bass was all DI.

I usually like to either live mic my guitars or run my amps through cabinet simulators, but this one was all DI + digital. I've recently been turned on by Neural DSP's plug-ins (though I normally use them for... heavier... guitar riffs), so all of the guitar tracks in this were using the Nolly model because I felt it had a relatively Cake feel.

The trumpet sounds very fake because it came from a not-particularly-great stock instrument sample pack in my DAW. It was the only trumpet I had on hand. The synth sounds both came from an Arturia Analog Lab synth package that came with my midi keyboard. Yes, I did play that freaky little synth thing after the first chorus.

I actually forgot to throw on a master reverb, but I don't think it was lacking too much without it (especially for a meme song). The real magic came from two things at the end of it all. I ran everything through an outboard Elysia mid/side stereo saturation module to widen it all and beef it up a little, and finished it all off with the iZotope Ozone mastering plug-in to really make it sparkle and get the final levels right.

Hope this answers most/all of your questions!

[queenofzan]

woke up. cass is at school. finally, i will be able to play more baldur's gate 3.

her desk is covered in trash. i clean it up. her controller is dead. i plug it in. she has one million programs open. i close them all. i launch baldur's gate. i load my last save. i cannot figure out how to get the controller to work while it is plugged in. i decide to just use the keyboard. i'm early enough in the game that i'm still getting tutorials about controls so it's fine. i blunder around for an hour or so. i fight some intellect devourers and level up. i meet astarion (i love him). i meet gale (i also love him). i wonder how the fuck gale got himself stuck in what appears to be a fucking map. i go to talk to some scavengers, and they attack me. there are more of them than i expect and i don't know what the fuck i'm doing so they wipe my party.

fine, whatever, i'll reload my latest save and

i haven't saved. somehow i have also triggered no autosaves in the last HOUR and meeting two different party members and triggering a waypoint. ugh. fine. it will be faster to replay now that i have a better idea what i'm doing anyway. i loot everything, pick shadowheart back up, and go to fight the intellect devourers. it goes even better than before, we level up. i pick the same spells as last time for my wizard, hit confirm, and

the game crashes.

and THEN fucking the combination of steam and the larian overlay do that thing that cloud saves do sometimes, and just. refuse to talk to each other because one of them didn't notice the game crashed probably.

i guess today's lesson is: no baldur's gate 3 for ani, it's illegal

[gamesception]

another new toy

I've been planning to get a number of accessories for my new computer. A new monitor, microphone, maybe one of those vr headsets. But after having it for a few weeks, one thing jumped out as needing an upgrade more urgently than anything else - the stock full size keyboard that came with it was just too large and awkward for my little keyboard shelf. I was tempted to go back to the Microsoft Compact Bluetooth keyboard that I was using with the Steam Deck... but I haven't had a "real" computer, like a proper desktop computer in decades, I wanted a "real" keyboard to go with it. Like a proper mechanical keyboard with switches and buttons and such. And so I typed "mechanical keyboard reviews" into a youtube search, blissfully unaware of the rabbit hole I was about to fall down.

If you know then you already know, but it came as a surprise to me that membrane keyboards are so cheap and so easy to mass produce that they've taken over the casual market altogether, forcing mechanical keyboards into the domain of the ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚enthusiast⋆ ˚｡⋆˚

Yes, it seems proper keyboards are a hobby now, not a very cheap one either, and the very last thing I need is another expensive hobby. But every hobby has its more affordable and approachable on ramps, and there are a number of pre-built budget boards occupying this space in world of mechanical keyboards. After watching a few dozen hours of youtube videos and reading a bunch of reviews and tutorials, I eventually settled on the RK84 'limited edition' from Royal Kludge for us$80. Which is like twice what I expected to pay when I in my naive innocence began shopping for keyboards, but I've come to understand that eighty bucks absolutely counts as "budget" in this hobby.

Pricing aside, I really do love my new keyboard. The 75% form factor is ideal, better centering the typing keys and saving a bunch of extra space on my little shelf while maintaining all the functionality of a full size board save only for the number pad. While I do like to use a number pad, I don't mind taking one out when I need it, and the keyboard even has a couple usb ports to easily plug a mouse and separate number pad into, which is super convenient and such an obvious idea that I really have to wonder why all keyboards aren't doubling as USB multi-dongles at this point, with additional usb ports, sd card ports, and so on.

For $10 more than the regular RK84 wireless, the 'limited edition' version has better keycaps, factory-lubed switches, some filler foam in the housing to reduce the hollow sound, an additional layer of sound dampening foam sandwiched between the top plate and the pcb, and a snazzy color scheme, the version I chose combining a black body and mostly black keys with a white top plate that better reflects the swirly rainbow rgb backlighting. The sound is decent, at least to my untrained ear, right out of the box. Which is ideal, as I'd like to avoid the temptation to start modding it.

Because I've gone about as far down this particular rabbit hole as I want to go.

Though I suppose it is tempting to open it up, as some basic tape & band aid mods would be cheap and easy and might improve the sound a bit...

And as much as the pre-lubed yellow linear switches are nice, I did make sure to get a hot-swappable board so it's easy to change them out later if I want to try alternatives, and I do think I might prefer tactile switches for typing...

And the rgb lighting is nice enough that it really is a shame these caps aren't shine though. Yeah, yeah, shine-through is tacky, but Cringe is Dead, and some black top pudding caps might really make the lighting pop. Or maybe a mix of black, white and some accent color to match the color layout that the board came with?

The abyss, it tempts me so...

[frostygutar]

2024 Review, kinda

I suppose I should start wondering if I actually feel accomplished in any way this year. 2024 was a bumpy ride the entire year, but I feel like I did a lot more than I usually do each year. I'll start with the three main hobbies I tried keeping up with; Art, music & writing.

Art went fucking horribly, I made three good drawings the entire year, and I've scrapped more drawings this year than in my entire life. Started hopeful, but over the past few months I've decided to not even consider art in my skillset. I'm terrible, have no interest in improving, and I have more fun doing literally anything else, so...

Music went okay, I guess? Still no finished songs, but my skill improved significantly compared to the start of the year! I bought my first vst, Xpand!2, and I learned quite a lot of things about music this year. I also got my first... Midi keyboard, I think? Idk, piano I can plug into my pc and use in FL Studio. Haven't used it that much honestly, but it's neat. I also made more song attempts I was actually proud of this year, unlike last year where I only liked one single song of mine. Overall, this was my strongest improvements, I think.

Writing didn't really go anywhere… Actually, no, it went anywhere, just not the thing I actually wanted. My "main" story collapsed near the start of this year, and I decided I was going to remake it, but I was going to fully plan it out before I started writing this time. I made lots of plans, and I spent all year improving them to a point where I'm really, really happy with it! But... Well, I haven't actually written anything, because the plans aren't complete. My skill itself already peaked last year in my opinion, so I didn't exactly get better at writing, but I would say I got better at organizing, planning, and pretty much everything that comes with writing, other than the writing itself. I'm satisfied, but I'm disappointed I didn't actually release anything despite my efforts. Next year will be the one, surely...

As for everything else, there isn't really anything to say. That's my life, tbh. I had a few gaming accomplishments, but eh. Who cares right now?

[casspurrjoybell-24]

The Alpha's Beta - Chapter 15 - Part 2

BOOK ONE: The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Stars - Part 2

Alpha Silas Claymore

"Silas. Silas, come on, I'm hungry."

I looked over at Simon who was waiting by the pathway that lead from the clearing with his arms over his chest.

Looking at Simon now I couldn't help but be amazed at what our father had done or what I assumed he had done.

Simon never told me the extent to the abuse.

I only know what I saw and it wasn't something I'd ever wanted to see again.   

"I'm coming," I huffed and walked out with him and to the nearest diner.

There was only two diners in the whole town, one motel, a couple of office buildings, one clothing store and two coffee shops.

Most everything else could be found in the city near by but with a pack the size of ours its nice to have things on hand.   

Simon and I sat in a booth by a window and ordered our drinks when time came.

We talked about nothing for a few minutes until Simon turned to a subject that caught my attention.   

"Lucca and I went running yesterday. He's thinking of traveling. Clearing his head and hopefully finding his mate."   

"He can't go anywhere until things have settled down. He does know that right?"   

Simon nodded taking a sip of his sprite.

"Yeah. I told him. He already knew though. I just feel so bad for him. I mean sure you and Darren aren't close yet and you had this agreement thing but you were bound to grow attached. He told me he has family in Canada that he wants to visit on his mother side. An Aunt that married out of the pack, when he was younger."   

I raised a eyebrow at this.

He'd never told me about having family around before.

I had assumed they had all died in the raid.

Before I could say anything else he waitress came over and took our orders and before I could bring it up again Simon started on a new topic.   

I sighed and made a mental note to talk to Darcy about looking into Lucca's old pack records and then talk to Lucca himself.   

Things with him were getting weirder and weirder and I seemed to be the only one noticing it.

Aside from Darren who's had no trust for Lucca, since the start.   

I heard my cell-phone ping and grabbed it out of my pocket.

Symon had finally stopped talking and was reading a magazine that was left on the table.   

I looked down at my phone.

An unknown number flashed across the screen.

I opened the text message and sucked in a deep breath as the blood in my veins ran cold.  

7 Days Alpha Silas  

"We need to go and find Quinton right now," I said, grabbing my wallet and throwing twenty dollars on the table.   

"What, why? We haven't even gotten our food yet."

Simon pouted as he slowly got up form his seat.

"I'll explain on the way. Come on."

I grabbed onto his arm and pulled him with me towards the building and made our way to the I.T. room.   

When I opened the door I was met with three confused faces, I let go of Simon and took my cell-phone out of my pocket tossing it at Quinton.   

"Trace that number. Do whatever you have to do to figure it out."

He nodded his head and got to work plugging the cell-phone into his computer and clicking his fingers on the keyboard.  

"Darcy look up Lucca's old pack records for me and see if you can find a family tree. Tell me if he has any living relatives."

"Yes, Alpha, right on it," she said, tapping her fingers away.

I sighed and took a seat next to Simon.

It took me a second to notice I was now in between him and Darren.   

"Are you stressed out, Alpha?"   

I put my hands over my face and let out a groan before nodding.

My father never warned me about this kind of stuff.

I was running off pure instincts and it sucked.

I had no Grandparents to turn to for advice.

I could ask Jeremy but he's been pretty tuned out since he heard about the possibility's on Julie.

"Come on," I heard Darren say.

I heard the chair shift before I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I looked up and watched as he shrugged on his coat.

"Well hurry up. I'm not waiting all night."

He looked to Simon and pulled out his cell-phone.

"Give me your number and call or text me when any news come up. We wont be to long."

Simon nodded before giving his number to Darren.

By the time he was done I was out of the chair and waiting by the door.   

We made our way outside the building and he got into a slick black Porsche that was waiting in the parking lot.   

I got into the car after him, sinking down into the passenger seat as he turned on the car and started driving out of the pack lands.

I looked over at him.

His eyes watched the road skillfully as one hand steered the wheel.

He had on his normal black shirt and blue jeans that hugged him just right.

He turned on the radio and classic rock soon filled the air.   

I had no idea where he was taking me but the feeling in my chest told me that this was a good sign and this was one thing I didn't need to stress over.