#i may post snippets

[hmooncreates]

honey sweet

is a zine that showcases poetry written by h moon. the poetry ranges from romantic to serious to silly. poetry can be used as a kind of therapy for many people including me. 

i was first encouraged to write poetry by a late professor so i would like to dedicate this collection to him. i thank him for all that he taught me and all the ways that he helped at a particularly bad time for me.

the poems included in this zine are

With You fancy things ribcage story magic bugs disturbed off the shelf a prayer to the god of knowledge

TRIGGER WARNINGS: implied disassociation, religion, bugs, doll imagery

$3 on itch.io || ko-fi

[laddertek]

etho said actually you _don't_ understand the intricacies of how tango is my boyfriend and bdubs is my ex

(and how tango and bdubs kiss too)

Scar: We went on that little adventure, you know! Etho: Yeah, yeah, we had our adventure, that's true, that's true. Scar: You disparaged your teammates. That's it, all right, no more spoilers. Etho: (laughs) Our team has -- our team has some weird dynamics this -- this season. Cleo: (overlapping) Really, Etho? Is there trouble in paradise? (pause) Who's third-wheeling with you, again? I can't remember. Etho: (laughs) Uhh. The -- Cleo: Genuinely can't remember. I know it's you and Bdubs. And...Tango? Tango. Tango. Etho: (loudly) Why -- Why is Tango the third wheel? Why -- why isn't Bdubs the third wheel? Cleo: Because it's you and Bdubs. I'm sorry. I understand how that relationship goes. Etho: (dissatisfied) Hmm.

[stellewriites]

ghost and soap that move in together in between missions to save on money and eventually - inevitably - fall into bed together. but somethings missing

they’re both a little too sharp around the edges, need something sweet to ease their cravings and soften their bites, but no one fits right

until you, that is. so don’t be surprised when they make sure you’re sticking around by any means necessary

[howlonomy]

Might I pester you for another monster clover?

clover: just happy to be here :)

[maiko-coy]

yoooo! The au sounds lit! We need more angry Dogday.

Do you have more ideas about it? 👁️

Thank you, I'm glad you like it!!! I do have several ideas for the AU, especially around the plotline and a bit of the side drabbles.

Missed Chances AU is basically revolving around the smiling critters in the Playcare (however, its specifically focused on our dear Dogday and Catnap, of course), but I've separated it into three arcs. First arc is the pre-HOJ. This is more on to fill in the backstory of the critters and how they are trained to interact in the Playcare, as well as them finding their own independence and creating their own personalities. This won't be as long as the other two arcs but I do plan on doodling a few drabbles from this arc for fluff and character development. This arc builds up until the Hour of Joy event. Second arc is post-HOJ. This arc focuses more on the events after Hour of Joy and how the Critters survive through it. This arc specifically focuses on Dogday. There will be major angst here with almost zero-to-none comfort because I'm still closely following the canon events. So yes, Dogday will still end up how he is in the canon game. This arc builds up until the canon Chapter 3. Third arc is post-chapter 3. As y'all have seen in my previous post, this arc is where Player saves Dogday, Dogday being vengeful, and saving Catnap. I haven't thought most of this arc yet (considering that the chapters aren't done yet) but I have planned out at least how Dogday and Catnap interacts here, as well as Player, Kissy, and Poppy. Sorry people but I don't plan on making any ships in this AU, simply because I don't think they have the time to in this situation and that I have no idea how romance work LMAOAOAO but I dont mind if yall ship anyone, I'm just saying that I don't plan on drawing any lovey-doveys in here. I also plan on giving this AU two endings: True ending and Good ending, cuz I'm evil like that. Maybe I'll make non-canonical doodles of this au who knows

[skhardwarevers1]

if this post gets like…5000 notes I’ll actually start writing scripts/making storyboards for videos I’ve had ideas about for months

additionally if this gets to 10000 (which I highly doubt it will) I’ll actually work on my abandoned stories, book ideas, and poetry

[bewitched-if]

does irl mc still live with their parents? :0

i hope you dont mind me answering two asks here because it's technically the same question but:

yes, mc still lived with their parents. the thing is, mc isn't brave enough to apply for a job bcs ya girl (gender-neutral wise, of course), has social anxiety.

mc's family wouldn't also risk mc getting help from ppl, like if mc got close to someone enough they could expose their so-called "family". they could not take chances

[runekeepershymnal]

“Two questions,” Nanami said tersely as they made their way out of his building and onto the street.

“Shoot,” Gojo replied, trying to fight down the vague panic about his side of the binding vow.

“One,” Nanami said, tone unchanged, “what are you staring at? And two: Why am I leading us when you haven’t told me where we’re going?”

Gojo swallowed hard.

“Well,” he hedged. Nanami stopped in his tracks and turned on him, snatching the sunglasses from his face.

“Lie to me and I go right back upstairs and back to bed.”

Gojo felt his eyelids crinkle with tension despite his best efforts as a beam of sunlight from between two buildings lanced over Nanami’s head and right into Gojo’s sensitive eyes.

“One,” Gojo answered, raising his hand to try to hide from the light Nanami didn’t block, “I was staring at your ass. I don’t suppose you checked the back in the mirror when you were trying those pants on, but I’m a little afraid that someone’s going to see it and run their car off the road. Two: I was too distracted by your ass to think about what we’re supposed to be going to do. Three, not that you asked, but yes, the sun is very bright and my eyes fucking hurt, so please give me back my sunglasses.”

A scowl, then a deeper one, and then a very slight softening around the mouth as Nanami returned his glasses. Gojo put them back on silently.

“Better?” Nanami asked.

“Yes,” Gojo answered. Through the darker lenses, he could now appreciate the way the sun filtered through Nanami’s backlit hair. Nanami, in turn, took off his hoodie and tied it around his waist, censoring himself.

“Also better?” he asked again. Gojo shrugged.

“Depends on your definition of ‘better.’”

“Less distracting?”

Nanami sighed as Gojo remained silent.

“What?!” Gojo whined. “Your top half is also fantastic.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, but Gojo thought he might've been blushing.

“It is absurdly hot out,” Nanami finally said through gritted teeth, apparently oblivious to the other pedestrians straining their necks to look at the very tall, built blond man. Slow motion whiplash.

“So you're just going to have to cope."

[karamell-sweetz]

fairy rui. *hands this to you and walks away ominously*

[n0bluev]

I always render the face first (its not even fair...)

[fallenwhumpee]

Worth it.

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Blood, magic whump, hypothermia, stranger caretaker, hallucination(?)

Leader always believed that their worth was defined by the people willing to help them when they were in their lowest. They always believed having people back them up was the real tresure.

Judging themselves by their own thoughts, Leader was worthless.

Trembling in the water, Leader tried to stay still. They were floating on their back, their blood oozing around and their thoughts as blurry as their vision. They had no strength to get themselves to the shore. Hell, they had no idea where the shore was.

Leader should have been panicking by now. But there was no point in trashing. Waste of their precious time and strength. They were probably not going to make it, and they could only hope the blood loss would rock them to sleep before hypothermia could.

When they eliminated panic, only an odd feeling left. The magic showed them another death. A lot more merciful one. A good ending, at least, even if getting there was torture.

Leader didn't think magic could be mistaken, or the future could be changed. They didn't think they would be dropped off in the middle of water just because of fear, after being ambushed by their own. If they had only listened Leader... that future could happen.

But maybe it wasn't the magic that showed Leader those. Maybe it was just what they wanted to see, and the truth just came to spit on their face. There was no way that they could explain how they didn't break any rules yet cast such powerful spell after fighting all day.

Leader felt their will crumbe as if it was frozen with the cold and someone was hammering it. Not for the first time, they felt the line between dark magic and the forbidden magic blur into each other. Sure, Leader was willing to sacrifice their emotions or give up some of their strength, but they weren't desperate enough to sacrifice something else.

Why not just give in? They could save themselves.

Leader trembled again, pushing the poisonous thought away. They didn't want to become a mindless puppet, and they were stronger than the temptation.

But did it really matter? When they were slowly fading away?

Leader breathed, their lungs screaking for some air. Those were dangerous thoughts, and they didn't belong to Leader.

A cough shook their body. They had to turn to expell some of the water from their lungs. Their head was barely above the water as they coughed their lungs out, their control over their body slipping.

Leader forced themselves to turn on their back again, not able to keep themselves afloat. They ignored how much water they swallowed in the progress and how it made their stomsch turn. They were too drained to care about it.

Leader’s vision blurred, the sky above merging with the depths below. The cold seeped deeper into their bones, numbing their limbs until they could barely tell where the water ended and their body began. They tried to take another breath, but their chest tightened, and a sharp pain shot through their ribs. The taste of salt and iron filled their mouth, darkness taking over their other senses momentarily.

A wave rolled over them, pulling them underwater for a brief, terrifying moment. When they resurfaced, Leader’s body barely responded to their will. Their wet clothes were sticking on them, the howling wind freezing their skin through the thick and wet layers.

They were so, so tired.

Deprived of their magic and strength, they didn't want anything else than closing their eyes. They doubted they would wake up, but at least they weren't in pain. Breathing slowly, they let their thoughts focused on only one thing.

Cold.

All they could feel eas cold. Reasonably, Leader thought. But it didn’t feel right. They had passed the point they were supposed to feel cold. They tried to move, but they didn't feel the swaying feeling of the waves. They were... still. Their back ached on the solid ground, their heavy body slumped on the floor.

Barely able to crack their eyes, Leader met with darkness. Soon, it became a thick, suffocating sight, as if it was wrapped against their throat and pressing their chest. Were they sinking? Was all of this just a last cry of help from their body to wake up their mind?

"You suffered too much," a voice whispered, gentle and soft. Leader struggled as they tried to remember if they had ever heard that voice before, but their mind failed to progress.

Slowly, it got easier to think. They could feel warmth embracing them, giving them a break from the constant shivering.

"You know you don't have to," the warmth burned their cheeks, the voice feeling closer to their ear. "You have the strength to make it stop."

Leader wanted to argue, but their body wouldn’t move, their voice trapped in their throat. The heat held them captive, and all they could do was listen as they felt their skin burn.

"You tried so hard," the voice murmured. "To be strong, to lead, to protect. Only to die alone, bleeding and broken. The people you cared never cared about you. But I won't let this injustice go on any longer."

Leader clenched their fists, nails digging into their palms as they struggled against the crushing weight on their chest. "No," they managed to whisper, the word barely audible. There was nothing to do within their strength to save themselves.

Leader’s heart pounded in their chest as they tried to move again. "No," they muttered again. They tried to open their eyes. Their body seized with pain as they found themselves on a softer ground, the world spinning around them. They were still cold and hot at the same time, still weak, but they were alive. Every part of them hurt, from the deep wound at their side to the biting cold that clung to their skin. The remnants of the dream (hallucination? nightmare? they weren't sure) clung to them, and for a moment, they almost wished they had given in—at least then, they wouldn’t be in this agony.

It took several long moments before Leader realized they weren’t alone. Someone must have pulled them from the water and wrapped them in a blanket. Not that they weren't grateful, but it did very little to chase away the cold.

Blinking through their blurry vision, Leader noticed a figure kneeling beside them.

Leader’s heart pounded in their chest. They flinched away from the person, their body too weak to do much more than that.

The figure said something softly, holding up their hands to show they meant no harm. Leader didn't understand one word from the stranger, and even though the gesture was clear, Leader wasn't buying it.

Leader tried to push themselves up to get away or at least seem intimidating, but their limbs were uncooperative, trembling violently with the effort. They barely managed to prop themselves up on one elbow before collapsing back, their breath coming in ragged gasps as a coughing fit took over.

The figure panicked, helping Leader back down with more words Leader couldn’t understand.

Leader’s vision swam as they stared up at the stranger, every instinct telling them not to trust, not to let their guard down. But they were too weak to fight, too drained to argue or make a point. They gritted their teed with frustration as they realized just how helpless they were.

The stranger mumbled, their voice soothing, almost hypnotic in its calmness. A magic circle with light colors glowed over them, but Leader couldn't summon the strength to break through it.

Leader’s eyes fluttered closed despite their efforts to stay awake, exhaustion - or the spell, they couldn’t tell - winning over. The last thing they felt before sleep claimed them was the gentle touch of the stranger’s hand on their forehead, cool and reassuring over their warm skin, even if it failed to ease the alarms taking over their fading consciousness.

Leader drifted in and out for a frustratingly long time, their mind a haze of pain and fevered dreams. The warmth that surrounded them was a far cry from the icy grip of the lake, but it was no less disorienting. Every breath was a struggle, their chest tight and burning, each inhale rattling painfully in their lungs.

But alongside that pain was something else—something softer, warmer. A hand, perhaps, carefully dabbing at their forehead with a damp cloth, or the feeling of a thick, scratchy blanket tucked securely around them.

When they finally managed to crack their eyes open, Leader found themselves in a small, dimly lit room. A fire crackled softly somewhere nearby, filling the air with warmth and the faint smell of burning wood. For a moment, Leader wondered if their mind finally pitied them and gave a calm dream, but the pain in their chest and the wet, rasping cough wasn't something they could make up.

The stranger was sitting on a stool beside the bed, busy with something Leader couldn’t see. When they noticed Leader’s eyes on them, they turned, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Leader tried to sit up, but their body refused to cooperate, a wave of dizziness forcing them to stay down. The stranger made a soft sound—something between a shushing noise and a hum—before gently pressing Leader back against the pillow.

The stranger patted the bed with a frown, pressing their hand to Leader's forehead.

Leader whined, frustration bubbling up inside them. They needed to know where they were, who this person was, and most importantly, why they had saved them. But when they tried to speak, their throat burned, and all that came out was a hoarse, unintelligible croak. They couldn't even raise their hand to push the stranger away.

The stranger sat next to them. They gestured to themselves, placing a hand on their chest. “Caretaker,” they said slowly, enunciating the word as if trying to make it easier for Leader to grasp.

“Caretaker…” Leader murmured, the name foreign on their tongue. They tried to repeat the gesture, but their hand barely lifted from the bed before falling back, too weak to complete the motion. Caretaker smiled again, this time with a hint of sadness, and placed their hand over Leader’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.

For a while, there was silence. Leader’s eyes drifted shut again, but they fought to keep them open, determined not to slip back into the void. Caretaker seemed to notice and began speaking softly, their voice low and melodic, though Leader couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter; the sound was comforting, a lifeline in Leader’s confusion and pain.

Leader tried to get a hold of themselves, and they did, even though they noticed Caretaker was gone by the time they regained awareness. Leader felt the loneliness crush them again, the emotions they supressed for the sake of staying calm surfacing. But they couldn't have that. They weren't ready to deal with any of those. So, they did the only thing they knew with those. Used them to cast a spell.

They knew how pathetic it sounded, but they were desperate to save their team, and it left them absolutely drained. Now they were feeling even worse. They had to relieve some of the pain to keep their sanity.

Leader weakly moved their hand to their chest, curling their fingers. They murmured the spell and let the dark circles surround their body like a blanket, their pain fading to the depts of their mind temporarily just like their feelings.

Leader flinched when they heard a gasp, the spell breaking with their concentration. Usually, such things wouldn't affect them, but they were too weak to keep the spell under check without focusing on it.

Leader turned their head to where the sound came, only to see Caretaker frozen in their place. Then suddenly, Caretaker began checking their plants with panic.

"Hey," Leader rasped. They tried again when Caretaker ignored them, but a coughing fit took over. Caretaker hesitantly came over, unsure if they want to help.

Leader pointed the plant in the corner, and weakly made a gesture like pulling it before shaking their head, hoping it meant no for Caretaker too. Then they pointed themselves and made a pulling motion towards up, magical energy forming for a moment before disappearing as Leader felt their strength fail.

Caretaker checked that plant. Leader knew what the other person thought, but they also believed they proved it wrong. Leader wasn't pulling life force from other things, which was the core of forbidden spells. There was nothing to be afraid of as long as Leader had their self-control.

Caretaker came back after making sure the plant was untouched. They took a paper and a pen, scribbling something. Leader recognised the basic healing spell, of course. The source came from the caster's magical energy, which Leader lacked. It was the reason of their lean towards dark magic— they used their emotions to make up their shortcomings.

Caretaker put the pen to Leader's hand. Leader wrote their own slowly, their hand trembling. Only a few symbols were different, but it must have satisfied Caretaker because Leader could see the relief in the other's eyes.

Leader closed their eyes as Caretaker looked at the spell more carefully. They were lucky that the magic came from the same runes. It proved Leader innocent.

With an excited smile, Caretaker tore the paper from Leader's hand— it didn't require much strength. They scribbled some spells and circled some symbols.

Safe, sleep, heal.

Caretaker looked at them proudly. Leader would laugh at the solution to their lack of communication if they had the energy. But they also knew if they laughed, they would start crying.

Did Leader deserve this? From a stranger? Perhaps not. But fate - and the stranger - decided they were worth it.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday (Second, sillier part to follow Friday)

Poll Results: Trespasser Jak

Picking up from HERE, Jak and Daxter have been taken back to Spargus

The drive back to the city was not quiet. Every couple seconds, the kid with the amulet he shouldn't have had was pointing to something else, talking a mile a minute to the fuzzy orange thing. The red rock bluffs fascinated him. The crocadeer on the clifftops fascinated him. The frith-rotted cactus was interesting to this stranger.

Jak started to lean out of the seat again, trying to take in every speck of the horizon.

"Will you stop that?" Damas asked irritably, "You're going to fall out, and I'm not turning this car around to go get you. What are you so entranced by, huh?"

Jak's enthusiasm wasn't dimmed in the slightest. "After they took us to Haven- I thought there was nothing left out there but wasteland!"

"You're in the Wasteland," Damas reminded him.

"Nah."

Jak stood up despite the driver's protests and clung to the turret gun to watch a flock of birds.

"This place isn't wasted. It's alive."

"And you won't be if you don't sit down right now-!"

Damas’s headache only multiplied -- exponentially. once they had actually returned Spargus.

The stranger gawked at everything, sometimes lagging as many as ten behind to look at the most mundane things. Forges. The communication hub/post office. Leapers. A stray chickalope he tried to pick up-!

Getting him into the Gate District garrison building took five minutes longer than it should've, by which time Damas’s patience was almost completely gone. It was all he could do to keep some modicum of professionalism as he herded the boy and the talking spirit thing into a clean, well-lit room for interrogation. He left them with a stern warning to wait there until someone came to figure out who they were.

Then he left to make a very strong pot of coffee. He wasn't going back in there without it.

He quickly decided that needed another kind of drink when he returned ten minutes later only to find Jak, barefoot, sitting on top of the table like a moody teenaged gargoyle. That ratty blue winter tunic was tied around his waist now, and the loose scarf and oversized undershirt didn't quite cover a surprising amount of scars for someone his age -- or maybe not so surprising if he was an Heir, given the proclivity of Haven to put those through the wringer-

No. No jumping to conclusions.

Old burns on the soles of his feet that looked roughly six to seven years old -- a childhood accident or stubborn adventure, most likely -- were the most benign of them. Damas saw old, healed clawmarks, and strange fractal-like patterns not unlike those struck by lightning, crossing his upper arms, shoulders and chest. Here and there he saw raised lines -- the telltale sutures of do-it-yourself shrapnel removal. Regardless of whose blood flowed in his veins, this kid was a soldier. And it looked like he'd been a soldier for a depressingly long time.

Damas pushed the thoughts from his mind and took a seat in the chair the trespasser had ignored.

"Alright. Let's get this over with as quickly as we can, shall we? I have a lot of work to do today."

"Oh...kay...?" Jak gave him a puzzled, wary look and scooted back across the table to rest his back against the wall. "I mean, I can't answer everything, and half of what I do tell you won't sound believable, but that's honestly not my problem."

Patience, Damas. Inhale, slowly. You're just stressed. You can't kill him if he's related to you.

Damas took an exaggerated breath and folded his hands on the top of the table. "I don't much care about your activities in Haven. My agents deliver news regularly enough. No, I want to know how you opened a locked door with a Seal of Mar on it."

The kid looked surprised, and then intrigued.

"Mar? Wait, really? He made it out here too?" Jak looked almost impressed. "Huh! Guy got around!"

"Answer the question."

The orange one answered in the kid's stead.

"Jak here's got the distinct misfortune of being descended from the guy-"

*Allegedly," Jak interrupted. His voice was distinctly harder than before.

"What "allegedly"? Dragging me into the frickin nightmare tomb wasn't enough for ya?"

"Everything we know about that guy we got from Krew, or Samos," his companion argued, "And most of the Oracles didn't bother to warn us that Samos was lying to us our whole lives. So no, I'm not taking that on faith."

Clearly this was a sore spot for the young man.

It just so happened to also be a very sore spot for Damas.

They were just going to act like they so happened to "conveniently" let slip that this boy was supposed to be related to him? Did they think he was a fool?

"What are you playing at?" he snapped, startling them both. "Do you think I am so easily taken in?"

"What-?"

"Tell me, boy," Damas said, much more quietly, "What makes you either brave enough or stupid enough to try to pull that story with me?"

And Jak blinked at him with eyes that were a little too familiar. Wide. Full of shadows and pain and anger but still clinging to the vestiges of innocence. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Um. Who? Are you?"

If this was a con, the kid was a decent actor, Damas had to give him that.

"You're telling me you're a survivor of the House of Mar."

"No? I said other people told me I was related to that guy. People with a vested interest in controlling me."

Jak scoffed bitterly and spread his arms wide.

"Little "abandoned" orphan boy kept isolated to train as a soldier, so he wouldn't know what they planned for him. Wouldn't run. And then magically suddenly he's heir to the worst city on the planet? Give me a break. The guards in Praxis's lab came up with better lies than that."

Damas wanted to agree with the kid. He wanted so much to agree with him. Whatever else he might be, clearly Jak was not the kind of person who bought into delusions of grandeur. In fact, he sounded like he actively resented the thought. Damas could appreciate that. Rot, he could even sympathize with the kid.

But.

He had opened a sealed door.

And the river-weasel had just said something about a Tomb.

He really really didn't want to be right, but if they could give an accurate description of the Tomb at some point, that information would be pretty hard to fake.

"Why did they think they could pass you off as Haven's heir?" Damas asked bluntly.

"Because I can make old Precursor crap work, I guess? And the Oracles like me." Jak folded his arms and shrugged. "They're useless when it comes to actually protecting anyone, but at least they tried to help after the fact. More than most hu'mens did."

Oh. Alright, okay. Maybe he's a sage prodigy and he's never been trained. That would make sense-

"Pal, the Oracle called you a "chosen one". That's gotta mean something."

"Chosen for what? Time looped torture?" Jak's entire posture had become rigid. He was beyond agitated, but Damas couldn't quite pin down if it was anger or fear or something closer to grief.

"....I...sorry." The orange one looked down, clearly ashamed. "That's- fair point. I won't bring it up anymore."

Damas didn't want to hear another word of this. Not one. Without stopping to think lest he talk himself out of it, he drew a knife from the back of his belt. The boy tensed even further, looking like he might snap as he watched Damas pull a sheet of paper haphazardly from the notepad that came standard in all the interrogation rooms. Damas ignored him and placed the tip of the blade to the pad of his thumb, pushing until two large drops of blood dripped onto the paper. The boy's tension eased slightly, but he still looked vaguely alarmed.

Damas wiped the blade and, steeling himself, held it out hilt-first to Jak.

"Your turn."

Jak glared at him.

"Are you nuts?"

Damas remained stonefaced. "You want to prove those people wrong? Blood comparison. Computer will be able to identify if it matches old records or not."

"Then why'd you cut yourself?" Jak challenged.

"Control sample," Damas answered shortly, staring until the boy gave in and set the blade against the tip of his little finger.

He declined to specify whether he meant for or against.

Jak twisted his pinkie between his fingers and let a single drop of blood fall onto the paper. He narrowed his eyes at Damas.

"And this is supposed to take...how long?"

"Two months if they're not busy."

Jak unfolded his legs and slid off the tabletop. "Months?! What good does that do me? They'll probably have found a way to guilt me into going back to Haven by then!"

Hm.

Damas leaned back in his chair and studied the boy with a new perspective.

"You're a runaway. Aren't you?"

Jak scowled and folded his arms.

"I'm not! I'm just...there's something I have to do out here. And I can't go back yet."

Suspicion trickled in cold at the back of Damas’s mind. He folded the edge down over the bloodied paper and tucked it into his belt.

"And what," he asked warily, "is this "something" you intend to do?"

The boy's ears dropped, broadcasting uncertainty despite his belligerent posture.

"I...don't know yet. There's just...something was calling me. And I can't leave until I know what it is."

This boy was going to be a walking migraine trigger, wasn't he? But unfortunately there was a reasonably high probability that he was Damas’s kinsman, which meant that under no circumstances could he just toss the kid back to Haven and say "not my circus, not my moncaws".

Just get through this until the blood tests come back. Who knows, maybe the guy will find a place here in the meantime. Or he might decide to fight the squid and die horribly. One step at a time.

Damas opened the door and beckoned to one of the district guards down the hall. Commander Shui left her subordinates immediately to respond.

"Sir?"

Damas nodded back towards the trespasser.

"Have someone show him to the showers. Once he's cleaned up, see if you can't determine his age."

Shui glanced at Jak, but never lost her stoic expression. "Understood. Is he a candidate for the trials?"

Damas ignored the harsh whispering between the boy and the...okay that was called an ottsel apparently. Didn't have those out in the desert.

"I doubt even he knows. For the moment, we will proceed as though he is a refugee."

He sighed.

"I have matters to attend to. Inform me if he causes any problems."

Jak wasn't sure how to feel about this turn of events. Six days of maddening dreams of eco comets and a broken string of beads. Five days of something pulling on his eco core, or his soul, the way the Precursor Stone had.

He wasn't sorry for leaving Haven in the middle of the night. The Grand Council had been getting more and more vocal with their more...Praxian...views on his right to life and liberty, and Samos just kept telling him to focus on what was "more important", fighting metalheads and new Krimzon Deathbots.

When the Call took him down that ancient eco mine, it had felt like an escape. He'd told himself he'd go back after he found what was at the end of the tunnel. And he'd meant to, if only because he thought he had nowhere else to go. After all, Daxter had built a life in Haven. He had a mentor. A girlfriend. A whole business!

But regardless of all the pretty lies Samos and Onin and Ashelin filled his ears with, Haven was not Jak's home. He would not take responsibility for their evil. And even if he was descended from their founder, they all let Praxis kill whatever blood relatives he might've had! They decided the line of Mar had no say in government, so who was Jak to contradict them?

It was strange -- almost unfathomable -- how his perspective could have changed with a rebalancing of eco. The Oracle down in that desert temple, it had pushed through old scars, given him access to light eco, when he'd thought the substance didn't exist anymore. The constant aches that ruled his every waking moment when it was even slightly cold out, the irritability, the burning in his core, it was gone.

How had he become so accustomed to at least low levels of pain as a daily companion? Jak hadn't realized how bad his condition had been until it was gone. And his mind felt clearer than it had in months. Maybe even years. Home was far behind them now. Sandover was forever lost to them, along with all remains of Jak's innocence. Because of Onin. And because of Samos.

Without his thoughts dulled by pain and lack of sleep, Jak thought of his heartfelt thanks to the manipulative old sage and wanted to be sick.

And now he was on an island, eighty nautical miles from Haven. A wild, living, sanctuary of Wastelanders and open wilderness. They called it "wasteland", but Jak couldn't understand why when it was so beautiful.

That Call still pulled at his heart, told him he wasn't done here yet. And he was relieved, because the longer he spent under clear, blue, sky, the more he hated the thought of returning to that corrupted city.

Just because he'd told Ashelin it was worth saving didn't mean he belonged to it.

Damas -- the angry man he'd startled when they came up out of the catacombs -- left, and a well-built woman about his height entered the interrogation room.

"Holy crap, a lady Sig!" Daxter hissed in his ear.

The Wastelander did have a prosthetic eye -- her left, not her right -- of the same make, but that was really the only similarity. She carried herself like Ashelin -- someone in command, used to cooperation if not obedience -- and that alone put Jak on-edge. He met her searching gaze with a hard stare, determined not to be the first to flinch.

"Hm." The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"I see what he means. When's the last time you washed?"

"Do pools of water count?" Jak asked. If there was sarcasm in the tone, so what? "Expendables don't get time to wash."

"Eesh." The woman curled her lip. "Well that's not going to fly in my garrison."

She turned to shout down the hall, "Strom! Get the rookie to the showers before the flies move in!"

"Oh rot you!"

[tunastime]

CLASSIFIED

HASA Interspace Investigation Coalition Investigator Reassessment Team

For: the Mission Critical Event Occurring on Stardate 2104.119

Stardate: 2104.123, Location: HCS Influence

Responses recorded using the Automated Question and Answer System (AQNA) aboard the HCS Influence.

Recorded responses enclosed.

Begin transcribed data.

Interview for: IIC Employee #7717

Stated Name: Hels

SESSION BEGIN

AQNA [Generated Text Question]: Please explain the events of [stardate 2104.119]. Subject (Hels) [Recorded Verbal Response]: Well that’s an easy question. We got ambushed, that's what f—ing happened. It was supposed to be a standard datum extraction from a site that was supposed to be abandoned, because nobody decided it would be a good idea to check again. So we got ambushed mid-mission. That's what happened. AQNA: Can you elaborate on the event that triggered the call-back sequence? Hels: What, you want me to draw you a diagram? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Hels: So no diagram? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Hels: The drop-squad successfully made ground contact after about half an hour of survey on our end. We assumed based off of initial information and our scans, that the site was uninhabited. I mean—it’s a decommissioned testing facility for something way more boring than what we’re usually sent for. Why the f— would there be… things living there. Things. They weren’t human. They weren’t me either. We triggered the call-back sequence because I watched everything go white so fast I thought I was seeing the inside of my skull. Ex is the only reason I got out alive. I’m sure he’s… thrilled. AQNA: Were you unable to retrieve the body and equipment of [#7716]? Hels: I didn’t see him. On account of the pulse grenade. Did you watch the footage, or should I be playing narrator? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Hels: I don’t know where he is. I don’t know what they did to him. We lost all his vitals when the pulse fried our equipment at the site.  Interviewer: Can you elaborate on the status of [#7716]? Hels: What do you mean elaborate? What—he’s probably dead. Is that what you want to hear? He’s f—ing dead. He’s dead, you piece of shit machine. Go ask somebody else what they think. [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Interviewer: Can you speak to [#6763]’s competence as potential squadron leader? [No verbal recorded response available]

SESSION END

Interview for: IIC Employee #6763

Stated Name: Exania

SESSION BEGIN

AQNA [Generated Text Question]:  Please explain the events of [stardate 2104.119]. Subject (Exania) [Recorded Verbal Response]: We failed to complete our extraction procedure. I was able to reach the data site within an hour of touchdown, alongside the rest of the team. We successfully retrieved the abandoned facility data within our allotted time frame, but on the way back to extraction, we were ambushed and caught in the line of fire of the inhabitants that had taken over the facility. I was able to successfully extract the bridge crew and one other member of the drop-squad. AQNA: Can you elaborate on the events that triggered the call-back sequence? Exania: We were attacked? Someone started shooting. Someone threw a magnetizer and a pulse grenade. The two other drop-squad members took a majority of the flash, but it was bright. Everywhere was... painfully bright. I don't have much more to say on that. I just acted in the best interest of the team as second in command. AQNA: Were you unable to retrieve the body and equipment of [#7716]? Exania: He’s dead. What did you want us to do? Retrieve a handful of charred up equipment? I don’t think so. AQNA: Can you elaborate on the status of [#7716]? Exania: He’s dead. That’s it. AQNA: Can you speak to [#7717]’s competence as potential squadron leader? Exania: #7717? I can't.  AQNA: Can you elaborate? Exania: I can't. AQNA: Can't? Or won't? Exania: Does it matter? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] AQNA: Please elaborate on your specific involvement with the events of [stardate 2104.119]. Exania: I successfully extracted information from the facility on [REDACTED]. I successfully extracted my drop member #7717, Hels. We were unsuccessful at a full extraction of the entire crew. Look, did I not just say all of this? What's not clicking for you? I know you're just recording this answer looking for keywords. I'm not daft. I think we’re done. AQNA: You're excused. Exania: Thank you.

SESSION END

Interview for: IIC Employee #7716

Given Name: Wels

SESSION BEGIN

AQNA [Generated Text Question]: Please explain the events of [stardate 2104.119]. [No verbal recorded response available] [No AQNA Text Question Generated]

END SESSION

[maybege]

I wrote something really filthy and I don’t know if I’m too ashamed to post it or not 🫣

[mithrilhearts]

May Your Forge Burn Bright by LordOfTheRazzles

bagginshield | pre-quest/blacksmith au | explicit

Thorin labors as a blacksmith within the world of men to support his family and the other displaced dwarves of Erebor. Change comes to his monotonous routine when the smithy he works in unexpectedly comes under a hobbit’s management.

↳ NOW ON AO3

[wikiangela]

last line tag game

tagged by @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @theotherbuckley @dangerpronebuddie @bidisasterbuckdiaz @diazsdimples 💖

posted so much bucktommy lately, have a lil buddie snippet now haha (tbf this is the last thing I wrote before the bucktommy fic that's now posted lol)

He can’t think about anything but Eddie, though, keeps stealing glances and, god, Eddie is so close Buck can feel the heat from his body, but not close enough to touch, to press his shoulder into Buck’s, and it’s driving Buck a little bit crazy. He needs to be either further away or closer, he can’t decide which one he wants more.

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @neverevan @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @your-catfish-friend @tizniz @daffi-990