#i'm very tired and a bit disoriented in general

[iceman-soup]

amab masc!reader x switch!soap

Letting rottweiler!hybrid!Soap ride you as you do some paperwork. He's been following you around all day, even more touchy than usual: resting his chin on your shoulder whenever you're not moving; clinging onto your hand or arm constantly; crawling onto your lap and nuzzling his face into your cheek if you sit down. Pouting at you that he's hungry or cold - knowing that you'll give him a snack bar from your pocket and wrap him up in your jacket at his first complaint.

He follows you into your office, his hand clutching yours as he whines that he's bored, headbutting your bicep affectionately as if he were part-cat rather than part-dog. You turn to him, watching him kick the door shut then pulling him into a hug, lifting him up a couple centimetres off the ground to make him laugh, his tail wagging. Giving him a quick scratch behind the ears first, you pull his face to yours, kissing him tenderly, hands moving to cup his cheeks, your thumbs stroking against his stubble.

Feeling him kiss you back with much, much more intent than what you had initiated, his tongue prodding at your lips eagerly, little whimpers against your mouth prompting you to part them. Gentle kisses quickly turn into making out, Soap's fingers shaky as he tries to undo his belt, fiddling with it until you had enough and moved your hands from his face to swiftly do it yourself, unzipping his jeans and tugging them down his hips, breaking away from the kisses to help him out of them - and his boxers - fully. Your heart beats fast at seeing how hard he is already.

"Gotta do paperwork, love," you faux an innocent smile, pressing a tiny kiss to his cheek and leaving him standing in the middle of your office to go sit behind your desk, sliding a file to the centre of it and flipping to the page you need. Surprised to not hear a chorus of whines and incoherent protests, you glance back up at him - feeling your heart melt a little at the sorry sight in front of you.

He's standing there half-undressed, big, sad puppy eyes fixed on you with the most pitiful expression on his face you think you've ever seen. His tail is slightly tucked between his legs and his sweet floppy ears are slack. He lets out a soft, low mewl upon catching your gaze.

"Here, pup. Didn't mean to make you upset," you apologise, leaning back in your chair and patting your thigh, smiling gently at how his tail immediately starts wagging as he trots over, straddling your lap and nibbling at your earlobe adoringly. Your breath hitches as he starts to grind against you, letting out tiny, needy sobs, trying to free your own aching cock from your trousers.

Kissing his jaw tenderly, you take off your belt, then unbutton and unzip your own trousers, pulling them down only enough for your hard-on to poke out of the slit in your boxers. His tail wags eagerly, whacking against your knees a little, and you put your hands on his hips, guiding him to slowly sink down on your cock, both of you groaning at the feeling.

"That's it.. good boy, puppy," you murmur almost absentmindedly as he adjusts, his head falling to rest on your shoulder. You slide your hands up his body til they're resting under his t-shirt on his ribs, gently rubbing up and down to soothe him. "Stay quiet now, love, alright? Let me get on with these documents."

He nods, wrapping his arms around your neck and clinging to you, muttering out a "yes sir" and pressing small kisses to your skin. You reposition yourself so that you can see your desk again, one hand picking up a pen and the other resting on his clothed back, fingers curling to grasp his shirt when he starts to move. Muffled whimpers and moans seep into your neck from where his mouth is attached to it, sharp dog teeth nipping slightly to get you to buck your hips a little.

"Can't concentrate when you do that," you breathe out, eyes flickering as he sucks a hickey into your skin. He hums in response, moving faster on your cock, lips still latched to you. "Fuck- Soap, love-" voice becoming gruffer as you get close to your climax. Hands move to hold his shoulders so you can kiss him again.

"C'mon, sir-" he pants, and your eyes snap open before immediately rolling back as you cum, hips twitching upwards as you sigh out a moan. You can feel his tail bashing your legs as he rides you through your orgasm, then shakes and collapses onto you as he has his own.

After a moment, you crack open an eye, catching his as he looks up at you, still sitting on your cock, his head on your chest. "Been a while since you called me 'sir' during sex, puppy," you smirk, reaching a lazy hand up to pet his mohawk. He grins in response, reaching up to give your jaw an open-mouthed kiss.

"Aye, sir," he flirts, squeaking as he feels you start to harden inside of him again.

[randomkduck]

Catdow revival au chapter 1: A short chapter where Shadow wakes up and meets Red.

Note: This hops in and out of 3rd and 1st person pov for Shadow, generally whichever was easier to write the part in. Not sure if it’s disorienting, sorry if it is!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Everything felt fuzzy, and numb. Like I was floating in the air but laying down on the floor but dunked into a pool of water but laying with my body pressed in between two people but.... it was a feeling I just couldn't put a real name to but could put too many names to and thinking too hard on it made my head hurt, so I stopped.

I don't really remember what it was like before I was given sentience, but I don't think it felt quite like this.

It didn't help that I picked up bits of sound, and emotion, and sights that just... weren't heard, felt, or seen by me. Like I was glimpsing into someone else's life.

I felt tired and wide awake at the same time. It was exhausting.

It felt like I had done just good enough to not be, I don't know, sent to wherever hylians think bad people go. But did too much bad stuff to go anywhere nice. So now I was just stuck... wherever I was. Probably in Link's shadow.

Being in Link's shadow sucked. It was really boring and ugh.

Until it wasn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadow woke up curled in on his side. Body feeling all too heavy and light at the same time, mind feeling fuzzy. He lifted his head, the fuzziness turning into dizziness, and forcing him to lay back down.

He layed there like that for a little while, lifting his head every once and awhile to make sure he was still safe where he was. 

He slowly pieced together part of what was going on. For one, he was alive when he was fairly curtain he shouldn’t be, for two he was in an alley somewhere in… possibly castle town? He hadn’t seen the place much from the skies as he razed it, but he had a vague idea of what it looked like from watching Link through the dark mirror before tricking him into drawing the four sword. And for three; he was currently in the body of a cat.

It wasn’t too weird for him, though it was surprising. He could shapeshift at will, and he was pretty sure that applied to animals as well, though he hadn’t really tried it. This kinda just confirmed he could.

Besides, it would be easier to move around without being spotted or identified by people this way. He could figure out why he was even back in the first place. 

Stretching his limbs and forcing himself up, Shadow took a few tentative steps out of his hiding spot into the rest of the alley.

Only to immediately be met with a very familiar gasp from someone nearby.

He jumped and looked over.

Well shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What? Already?? And Why did it have to be him???

Red looked at me from the bright lights of the city street, eyes shining like he had just spotted the best thing ever.

Oh wait, I'm a cat. Hylians love cats.

Oh no.

I start backing up, hoping I can pretend he didn’t see me, and he’ll get the hint and leave me alone.

No such luck.

Red entered the alley, probably not wanting to scare me off, and crouched down just within eyesight. Extending his hand slowly, there was a sent wafting from it.

“Hey there little guy! I don’t wanna hurt you. Do you want a treat?” He said in a soft tone, smiling like he was speaking to a child. Shadow hated it, but his ears did perk up at the word ‘treat’. 

I could feel my rumble weirdly, kinda like a hylian’s would when hungry, but quieter.

Well that was new.

I mean, what harm was there in a small snack? Besides, it was Red The day he hurt an animal on purpose was the day that pigs flew.

…

Not including Ganon.

Alright fine, I’ll give the treat thing a shot.

~~~~~~~~~

He moved forward slowly, fairly curtain cats don’t just openly trust a person giving them treats. Even if he did know Red pretty well, Red didn’t know that, so why would he act like they’ve been friends forever?

He sniffed at whatever was in Red’s hand. It smelled nice, like a sweet from a bakery. Glancing at his other hand, Red had a basket that he had set down (but still had his hand on) to give Shadow his full attention, and sitting on top was a cinnamon roll with a piece torn off from it.

Huh. How nice of him. It looked like Shadow got the first bite!

He nibbled on the baked good, but noticed Red move his hand away from the basket out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled, though it came out as a low ‘rrrrrrrrrrhh’. 

Red’s and froze, and his hand went back to resting on the basket.

He seemed to be barely containing his excitement that Shadow (or in Red’s point of view, the adorable pretty floofy baby) was giving him the time of day despite clearly not trusting him.

Once the treat was done, Shadow sat down. Not really sure where to go from here.

Now what?

Red turned his rand over so that his knuckles were facing Shadow, and let his hand sit there in the air. He wasn’t really sure what the boy was doing, tilting his head in confusion.

Red made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a choking sound. Shadow looked up at him in confusion and mild concern, what kind of sound was that?

The crimson clad hero’s eyes were wide and bright, his basket hand (right hand) now over his mouth like he was trying to contain that odd sound that had come out of him. He looked like this whole event had made his week.

Eh, what the heck. Shadow did what he saw some cats do and rubbed his face on Red’s still outstretched hand, absolutely revelling in the funny sound of pure joy that escaped the other’s mouth.

“Uh Red, what are you doing?” A voice broke the moment, a voice that he really didn’t want to hear right now, an annoying voice. Blue stood at the entrance of the Alley.

Welp! Treat time with Red is over! Shadow thought as he jumped up and bolted away.

He didn’t at all whatsoever feel even the smidgest feel bad at the sound of disappointment Red made. Though he didn’t really have to as Red turned and chastised Blue for ‘scaring the pretty fluffy cat away when we were in the middle of becoming friends’.

Blue did look like he felt bad, but mostly just looked confused and mildly offended.

It was a funny look on him.

[13docwriting]

Hello! It's me again, giving my minute by minute review of The Giggle. I have not seen any spoilers or watched any trailers, so I know nothing. Well... I know that Neil Patrick Harris is someone lol. As a summary, I enjoyed Chibnall's era, loved the thirteenth Doctor with all of my heart, and know little about the classic series but am obsessed with nuwho. I am also weary of RTD's writing but I loved the first special and enjoyed the second. LET'S GO!

Again, last time I'll complain, I MISS LIVE REBLOGGING WITH FANS. 1. Oh my horror movie vibes again. Okay.

2. Uh. What's up with the accent for Neil Patrick Harris (NPH to make my life easier). That feels a bit... Not good. Especially with the "messed up" words to accentuate it. It just doesn't sound right. I know it's supposed to be a STUPID amount of fake, but it's boarding on offensive.

3. "I'll need a moving image" right to the jump scare lol. I don't MIND horror movies, but I don't necessarily want it for every single Doctor Who episode. A bit disappointed.

4. NPH dancing with David Tennant for those point two seconds did something to me. Also, LOVE NPH's makeup there.

5. I'm already so tired of UNIT having all this money. I don't know, it doesn't feel right. They were supposed to stay hidden so that people didn't know about them. Are we officially saying that humans know about aliens? That's the only acceptable answer I'll take as to why we got helicopters and military vehicles just out and about.

6. Awesome, AWESOME music. Always. Just, again, a thousand kudos to everyone doing this beautiful arrangement.

7. I LOVE Shirley. I love her. Representation done right, in my opinion. It's ironic that RTD can do something EXACTLY as it's supposed to be and the fumble the ball on something else in the very same episode i.e. the first special with Shirley right to "male presenting" Time Lord (see my first live blogging to hear the speech I did already lol).

8. KATE - KATE - KATE. My h e r o. My LOVE! We JUST saw her with 13 and I loved every single part she was in. Her finally seeing the inside of the TARDIS made me so happy.

9. KATE HUGGING THE DOCTOR. Awww! That is so gosh darn cute. I don't know how long it's been exactly since Kate saw 13 after the whole Master thing in Power of the Doctor, but it's so nice to see her hugging him. I was scared for a moment it was going to be a slap lol.

10. "How do we fight the human race." Uh... That's quite a plot, isn't it? I... The Doctor, thirteen especially, always made a point of saying how good "you humans" can be. Saying that humans are inherently bad just doesn't sit right with me. There's a speech roaring up with me about how RTD sees people in general and how that effects the optimistic and hopeful attitude of Doctor Who in gneral, but that'll have to come later.

11. OH HEY Melanie! I know that companion! Kind of! I've never see any of her episodes but that's awesome. SIDE NOTE... Just like with Power of the Doctor, I feel a little disoriented when I know I'm supposed to know something / really appreciate the moment and I can't. I'm so happy that Chibnall AND RTD are so very willing to let classic who people come back, I'm just always a little lost with things like this. (I wonder if other people my age feel that way? Any else 25?)

12. "Is park rude?" "Borderline". I... What? Why would you even turn to Shirley with a question like that? See what I mean about dropping the ball.

13. "Why should I care?" Prime Minister. "No change there then." Donna. hehe I love those little moments where DW shows current political distain.

14. We're... We're not gonna ask a million questions about what Vlinx is? What they're doing there? How they got there? The Doctor's not doing the usual excited dance and asking how hot their cortex runs, the amount of brain power they have, etc. Idk, seemed like a wasted moment. (Unless I'm missing some classic who stuff again?)

15. Listen, I'm a very simple lesbian... I see an "evil" Kate and I get a little excited, okay? Woman power and all that, am I right? 16. "As for you [Shirley], with that chair - I've seen you walk!" What the actual fuck. Listen, I know, I KNOW people are idiots about wheelchairs. I know some people don't know that some people who use a wheelchair aren't completely paralyzed, but to point it out in this way just feels... It feels like a misstep...? I have no right to comment, I'm not a wheelchair user, but the way RTD handles things like this always makes me nervous.

17. "The old archangel network" ahhh hello there preteen headcannons! Ahhhh the Master, how lovely a reminder of those days! God, what a plotline that was back in the day. I am not surprised at all that RTD fit that line in, let me tell you. The man seems to like to brag about his old stories (inconspicuously points to David Tennant and Catherine Tate.)

18. Why would Donna ever, ever guess that those brain waves were music? Where in god's name would ANYONE come up with that without ANY sort of hint? What kind of mary sue writing is that? I'm just supposed to take that? Talk about a convenient plot device. I don't like lazy writing.

19. "The very first image has been hiding in every screen ever since." See, THAT'S cool! I like that kind of story, where another god-like entity has that sort of power. Someone PLANNED that. As always, things like this are why I love when the Master comes back. His convoluted plots creates such great writing and stories.

20. "What, because you're so clever [at Shirley asking why they never found the Stooky Bill laugh before]." Hey 14, your 10 is showing - the parts of 10 that adult me has problems with.

21. "[The human race] is also savage, venal, and relentless." Alright, maybe I'm thinking too much about 12 and 13, mostly 13, but the distain that 14 (cough ten cough) displays for humans has ALWAYS been icky to me. The Doctor TRAVELS with humans, has worked with them, has LOVED them. You can't call an entire species monsters and then claim to love them. People CAN be monsters, but ten - sorry, 14 - has a habit of not taking the time to make that distinction between species vs person. 13, meanwhile, has never insulted a single human. She has encouraged people, genuinely wants them to be better, and only alienates herself not by pointing humans down, but by feeling so different than everyone around her.

22. "Using your intelligence to be stupid... And hating each other. You never needed any help with that". Well, congrats, this may be my least favorite episode of Doctor Who ever. I don't like getting insulted, I don't like the Doctor being mean, I don't like the tone of this episode... Doctor Who is a hopeful, lighthearted show that brings a smile to my face. Yes, it has moments that make me sob, but it's not some police drama. DW is a sci-fi show about traveling a beautiful universe. THIS is not what the show should be.

23. "Can we take out that satellite?" So Kate's waiting for permission... But, question... THE TARDIS IS RIGHT THERE. You're telling me the Doctor can't go up there, sonic the thing off to make it look like it's a technical error, and then eff of? I know writers OFTEN give the good old "the TARDIS is unavailable" to avoid thoughts like this, but RTD left the TARDIS RIGHT THERE. We have a time and space machine!

24. Side note, very side note, but are we ever gonna fix the gravity to "mavity" thing? Is that gonna come back?

25. The Doctor: "you have my permission" [to blow up the satellite]. But... But that's... What can UNIT say to that? "Oh yeah hey, our alien from outer space that we trust that you don't know gave us the go-ahead to blow your satellite up. Please don't fire missiles at us, we got the "OK." What? Just... What?

25. Oh hey, was Melanie at the therapy session for past companions in the Power of the Doctor? That would honest to god fit so well and I would love that. I'll have to look later.

26. Again, I almost have to laugh at the budget. All this money and we're using it to fire off a gun... In Doctor Who... Where the Doctor hates guns. Figures.

27. 120[k] plus five weeks' holiday." OH FUCK YEAH DONNA. Girl boss right there! You deserve that money! Freaking LOVE IT. And I'd love Donna working at UNIT. Maybe Martha and her could be best friends? Oh hey, where the hell is Martha and Mickey, btw?

28. Ha, Crowley, COUGH, I mean the Doctor on SoHo's streets once again. Hehe.

29. "Donna, I'm a billion years old". WOAH, WHAT? He can't be serious, right? No way 13 lived that long after 12's 2,000 ish years, right? Is 14 counting the confession dial? He has to be, right? I almost wish 13 mentioned her age now.

30. "But you are busy every second of every day" uh, yes. That was 13's coping mechanism. If she never stopped, she never had to think. Granted, that was every single Doctor's coping mechanism, but 13 had a lot of crap to get through and the fact that she got sent to prison with all that MUST have destroyed them.

31. Donna trying to give the Doctor mental health advice will forever be a favorite moment between the two of them for me. I'm so glad to see how much Donna cares about him.

32. NPH is just fabulous. He really just takes over the scene, even against actors like David Tennant and Catherine Tate. I was mesmerized by the ball scene. Granted, the accent makes me squint my eyes, but still... Him playing the villain will always be exciting.

33. Oh the Doctor knows him! An old enemy, that can't be good. OH and with the first Doctor as well, talk about a VERY old enemy. It's only been a billion years, eh? Hm, and the Doctor seems terrified of him. I'm getting the Master vibes. Is the Toymaker a Time Lord?

34. I sincerely wish that the Doctor mentioned being the Timeless Child to Donna when the Doctor said "what am I without my toys". I just... Donna can't understand why this speech even exists without knowing that the Doctor's entire history was erased - was taken from him. People may hate the Timeless Child plotline, but it's THERE. If RTD is going to build the emotional trauma off of that, it should be mentioned by name. I'm glad we mentioned the Flux, but the Timeless Child is what drove the Doctor nearly insane. It's what drove the Master even more insane. It should be mentioned properly.

35. Why the fuck, after that emotion speech, would these two idiots even separate AN INCH? Donna just saw how terrified the Doctor was, the Doctor IS terrified, why would they not hold hands? Why would they not stick to each other like glue. Again, lazy writing.

36. I can not explain how much this doesn't feel like Doctor Who. I can not even being to rant about how much this doesn't feel like my goofy little sci-fi show that makes me smile. I feel cheated. RTD, you got your Midnight / stupid scary episode last time and I complimented it. I cannot believe I have to sit through another one of your horror episodes. Again, the spirit of Doctor Who is the relationship and connections to how amazing humans can be. It's about hope, and optimism, and learning. Of course there's scary episodes, of course there's a step to the left in terms of how the usual episodes go, but what the heck is this?

Is it good writing? Perhaps. The dialogue, tone, and plot is convincing, I'll give RTD that. But is this MY show, my Doctor Who? No. I've said before that RTD relies on nostalgia and this episode only ferments that. If it wasn't David Tennant and characters that weren't already introduced literal years ago, how'd we even know this wasn't the same show?

37. Why the FUCK is Donna so violent? We know she's a badass, we know she's sassy, we know she's fearless... But banging that doll into the wall, a furious look on her face? Where the fuck did she learn that one?

38. How fucking dare RTD mention the Flux but bypass the fam, Yaz, and Dan. How fucking dare he. How dare he pick and chose what he liked from Chibnall's era. And you know what, let's have a laugh, shall we? Maybe he can't mention them because all of them had a GOOD ending. All of them left of their own accord. They left feeling stronger, feeling good about themselves, feeling like they've see the universe and want to make their home, earth, better. What has RTD done but killed the Doctor's happiness? And don't come at me with my own words - the Doctor could have mentioned Yaz and the fam as a defense against himself. "But I've learned - I've learned that humans are strong, that my friends are stronger than I ever could be! Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'Brian, Dan Lewis - all them are safe. All of them are loved. They have always been the best parts of me. Now, Toymaker... I challenge you to a game." TADA. I even think I got David Tennant's correct cadence, and I never even wrote him!

If you are a showrunner for DW, you have a responsibility to the past writers to show some respect. The way RTD is handling the Flux is fine, but you can't erase the Timeless Child because it doesn't fit with your own version of Doctor Who. It has been done, get over it. USE it.

39. *Splutters* "I made a jigsaw out of your history". You will NOT be taking responsibility for the Timeless Child like this. You will not have a villain create the Timeless Child just to erase it. AND YOU TOOK THE MASTER FROM ME? MY FAVORITE MASTER? YOU TOOK SPYDOC FROM ME? Holy shit I need a drink. My rage is unfathomable.

40. To be fair, seriously, it's good writing if it WASN'T Doctor Who. I am being fair. It's heart pounding, it's exciting, but it's not the same show or the reason I love the show.

41. ... Okay, NPH... Yeah. That scene. I'm not even going to hint about what scene I'm talking about. Everyone knows. It was a 10/10 performance. It was fantastic. There's no criticism, I'll be watching that ten million times. (Damn shame they didn't let him sing it though).

42. The speech the Doctor is making to the Toymaker sounds AWFULLY familiar, doesn't it? Perhaps, the Master, once again? The Doctor just picks these god-like entities and goes "I will love you" and clings on for dear life. I assure you, somewhere in that tooth the Master is screaming "YOU ASKED ME FIRST".

44. "We can be celestial." Someone tell me if DT played Crowley season 2 before or after this. I could HEAR Crowley on that last word, come on now.

45. what the fuck. what the fuck. what the f u c k. WE'RE FUCKING KEEPING DAVID TENNANT. WHY THE FUCK ARE WE KEEPING HIM. HE'S HAD HIS TIME TWICE OVER. WHY. WHY. WHY. HE WAS A GOOD DOCTOR BUT IT'S NOT FAIR THAT HE'S STILL HERE.

RTD changed regeneration. I'VE HAD TO DEAL WITH THE HATERS TORMENTING ME ABOUT CHANGING THE DOCTOR'S PAST IN A WAY THAT DOESN'T EFFECT DW CANON, AND YET RTD CAN DO THIS?

ALL BECAUSE HE WANTS TO KEEP DT. Someone sedate me, I'm going to be the one being on walls and screaming soon. Fuck me. Let the Doctor go! That's the whole bloody point. I can't with this. If you haters out there accept this one I don't want anyone ever coming at me about the Timeless Child again. I'll just throw pictures of up this regeneration scene with a bunch of arrows. And not to mention, I hate this idea? I hate it. I hate it. Regeneration was about change and rebirth, now it's about adding a little hint of something new. It was about letting go, getting ready for a new future, handing someone else the torch of this beautiful show. Oh my god, I hate it here. I'm STAYING for Nucti. I'm honoring his first performance, but I am pissed. I might not even be able to write more.

46. "Do you come in a range of colors." What. What kind of line is that? What... Why did we even have to mention that? He also comes with a different gender, Donna, I don't think his "color" matters. That was the point of the first special, if you could remember that.

I'm taking an effing walk... Off a bridge at this point.

47. Why didn't we give the 15th Doctor trousers? We didn't give 14 13's clothes now did we? But we can have the 15 Doctor running around half naked... On a family show? Come on now.

48. We... We really... We really wasted the Toymaker with a game of catch. Really. I was just complimenting the writing and then we did that?

49. I'm loving 15's care and love. His openness. Is this the Doctor forgiving himself?

50. Oh hey, what lovely person took the Master from that gold tooth, eh? Maybe... Missy, perhaps?

51. MENTION THE TIMELESS CHILD YOU FUCKING COWARD OH MY GOD. Not you, 15, you're great sweetie. RTD MENTION THE PROPER PAST YOU ASS. You can mention all the past adventures but not the latest one? Seriously?

52. Something, something, so glad 14 got a happy ending, something something, wish 13 had that, something something, too bad Chibnall followed the rules of regeneration just as all the writers did beforehand SOMETHING SOMETHING.

53. I'm getting the mildest hint of karma because I never understood why people said the couldn't understand Jodie... I'm actually having a bit of a hard time with Nucti lmao. I always use subtitles so it doesn't matter to me, but just thought I'd mention that.

54. Nucti better kiss a man full of the mouth. He is... Quite something. Jack Harkness would faint.

55. I have a question. How is 15 older? Isn't it like 2.2 seconds only, if anything?

56. I really am glad that 14 got a family. It is beautiful.

I usually do like a summary or whatever but I'm just so bitter and pissed. Here, 3/10, two of those points are for 15 and one is for the Toymaker... Even if the Toymaker character was wasted.

[sobdasha]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bobbinalong]

wip

She looked very young when she slept, Tim thought, features relaxed, curly blonde hair falling loosely across her forehead, and it was easy to forget, sometimes, with everything they saw and everything they did, that they both still were very young, children by some people's standards, and that maybe they should always sleep like this, no worries, no nightmares.

Too bad she only slept as peacefully as she did because she was still under general anaesthetic and he hadn't closed his eyes for longer than a second in twenty hours or so.

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

His eyelids fluttered.

"I'm glad you're alright", he murmured. "Your mom is, too. You gave us quite the scare, y'know? Made me skip town and all, my dad's gonna freak when he wakes up in a few hours. I'm probably gonna get grounded."

He took her warm hand into both of his.

Rested his forehead against his knuckles.

"You're worth it, though."

He wasn't sure how he'd explain to his father how he'd gotten to Gotham within a night.

He wasn't sure how he'd explain what he was doing in Gotham to begin with.

He wasn't sure it mattered right now.

Or at all.

He lifted his head with a sigh.

Once Crystal came to take his place or Stephanie had woken up—whichever came first, he supposed—he'd have to find a way to call home, let his father know where he was. Hopefully before the man found his son's bed empty once more.

His phone was resting comfortably on his nightstand, where he'd put it before leaving for patrol and where it did him no good, and it wasn't like he could reach dad on the Bat-Comms. He usually kept some change in his utility belt, though, so if he found a payphone, at least that should be fine.

Nothing else would be, his father would probably install bars before his new windows, but all that was hours away and he was exhausted—this wasn't worth spending his last bit of energy on.

Steph stirred, then.

And every thought not about her fled him so quickly that for a second, he had trouble remembering what he'd been worried about at all.

Her mouth twitched.

Tim squeezed her hand.

"Steph?"

And leaned forward, eyes wide, heart trembling under two layers of disguise.

"Can you hear me, Steph?"

Her eyes fluttered.

"Steph?"

"… Robin?"

Her voice was low, almost inaudible, and he leaned forward to be sure to catch every word she might mumble.

A dopey smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

She sounded relieved when she said: "You're here."

"I've been here the whole time. Sat with your mom. She's alright, y'know? Worried sick about you."

His thumb stroked her knuckles when she hummed quietly.

Her eyes fell back shut.

"I'm so tired", she mumbled, and then, like his words had taken a second longer to reach her than usual: "My mom's still here?"

"She never left. I don't think anything could have made her. She's—"

With the baby.

Who Stephanie hadn't mentioned yet, too tired, too scared, still a little too disoriented, maybe, and so he said, softly, gently: "Steph? You know why you're here, right? You remember?"

Her face scrunched up for a moment and when she blinked, not without some trouble, her eyes were wet, a tear slipped down her cheek.

He hurried to reach out and brush it away.

She turned into his palm.

"The baby's fine", he assured quickly. "A healthy little girl. Your mom is with her."

His smile was hidden by his mask.

Hers wasn't.

It was small and uncertain and just a little wobbly, but happy without a doubt.

"Have you seen her?"

There was a hopeful curiosity in her eyes that made his heart lurch in an odd way, one he didn't have the energy left to examine, and so he just shook his head slowly, biting his lip when Steph's smile slipped for a second.

"Not yet", he said. "I figured … well, I'm not family. And your mom and I thought it would be good if you had a familiar face here if you woke up. Which you did. So it is good that I'm here. But your mom'll be here in a minute, I'm sure, and she'll tell you everything you want to know about the … about the baby. That is. I mean … Hm."

He'd taken off his gloves before sitting down with her and he missed having something to busy his hands with.

"You weren't sure about keeping the baby when you called … Are you … are you now?"

Stephanie took a shuddering breath.

[purplesurveys]

1806

Are you tired? Are you taking this survey because you can’t sleep?  Not very tired at all even if it's past midnight. I finally feel the calm that's been evading me for a while because 1) I have a long weekend, and 2) I can also finally stop fooling myself about resigning 'soon,' because I did it already a week ago :)

Do you have something important to do?  Not right now but I'll be doing a lot of job hunting in the next few weeks! Also tomorrow morning I'll be heading out to get my car checked because the handbrake icon has been lighting up for a while now and I need to know what's up with that lol.

Do you like Jalapeno Cheetos?  It tastes okay but I'm generally not a fan of packed snacks.

Do you wish you had a new phone?  No but I need to start taking care of my current phone, cos I learned today that the battery capacity left on it is at 77% which is apparently already horrible haha. I'm not in any rush to replace it at least until a year or two from now as it's still a fairly new phone, so it's just a matter of watching out for how much I use it going forward.

Name one thing you ate today?  Instant laksa.

Do you like 80’s music? 60’s music? 90’s music?  I have songs I like from each decade but none of them stand out for me when it comes to music in general.

Do you find rap music annoying? Rap music, and any genre for that matter, is super broad though. There are albums I like but then there are those songs that can get superficial about drugs and sex and have a lot of autotune that just makes me go egh.

What song is stuck in your head?  I'm Fine by BTS because it was the last song I played on Rhythm Hive before closing the game earlier today lol.

Have you ever been to Germany? Never been.

Do you drink coffee in the mornings? I need to, otherwise I'd feel super disoriented and not be able to get as focused at work.

Do you become a fan of lots of things on Facebook?  Not anymore, but I remember how huge that was before. People made pages out of anything and everyone would just be fans of them.

What time do you go to bed on school/work nights? Around midnight or a little past.

Have you ever seen a therapist?  I've never had a session with one, actually. Even though there were many times in the past where I know I should've.

Do you get in trouble at school often?  No. I got scolded once for talking during a class in Grade 4 and from there made it a point to never disrupt again haha.

Do you watch videos on YouTube?  All the time. Even if I don't watch a video per se, I like having YouTube on as background noise/visuals and keep it playing all day long.

Name a song that makes you happy.  These days, Paramore's Escape Route has been giving me all the happy vibes.

Name a song that makes you want to dance. Home by BTS.

Name a song that brings back memories.  Fireflies by Owl City.

Does the song above bring back good or bad memories?  A little bit of both, but mostly good.

What decade do you think is the best musically?  I'd be the worst person to ask this as I never really was an adventurous listener. I also feel like each decade has their own styles and charms when it comes to music so as far as 'musically best' I'd find it hard to tell.

Do you take a long time to get ready in the mornings?  I need around 30-45 minutes to prep before work. That includes taking a shower, making my bed, cleaning my room, playing with the dogs for a few minutes, and making coffee.

Do you wear a lot of makeup?  Does BB cream count? That's really the only thing I apply, and foundation. But yeah in general, the answer is no.

Have you ever written poetry or fiction?  I've dabbled in both but never enjoyed it. I was always one for non-fiction writing.

Do you know how to read music?  Nope. We had drills in music class where we had to read notes and such, but I never retained those and if you quizzed me right now I'd pretty much be clueless.

Do you regularly use a blow dryer?  I don't.

When was the last time you went to church?  Three Sundays ago. The last two I missed because I watched a public Royal Rumble watch party, then had a work event to oversee.

Would you date someone who was a different religion than you?  I wouldn't date anyone who's closely tied to their religion.

What is your best subject in school?  History.

Name something you do nearly everyday.  Use a laptop.

Do you take surveys a lot?  Than the average person, absolutely. Within the community...not nearly as much as I used to. I usually have time to check in only on the weekends now.

Have you ever had sushi?  Yes, it's one of my favorite foods. I literally had sushi at least once every week in January hahaha.

[the-13th-rose]

Whump prompt series for April - Day 2: "Get some rest"

Whumpee: General Grievous (Star Wars: The Clone Wars)

Based on the 2008 Clone Wars series as well as my fic "The Witch & the War Machine".

"General!" Asajj Ventress snapped. "Snap out of it!"

Grievous came back to his senses in a disorienting jolt. He shook his head for a moment, as though his exhaustion could be simply shaken loose and dislodged.

Asajj sighed. "Tell me you heard even some part of that briefing."

...Oh.

"...Of course," Asajj muttered. "I'm surprised he didn't seem to notice." She turned to face him. "I know you always seem to be tired, but I've never seen you like this before. ...Are you sure you're fit for this mission?"

"...What?" Grievous replied, eyes narrowed.

"I know," Asajj said. "It's not concern. Or, it's concern for whether we'll be defeated again."

Grievous sighed. "I am not...too 'tired' to fight. Or to command."

Ventress slightly arched one brow as she met his gaze. A split second later, she retrieved one of her lightsabers and took a wild swing at him.

Grievous staggered back, just barely out of her reach. He stared at her for a moment, bewildered, then thought to arm himself as well.

"Put your toys away," Ventress said, deactivating her lightsaber and replacing it upon her belt. "I was testing you. And from our sparring matches, I know you should have blocked that swing without needing to dodge. But you barely avoided it to begin with. How do you expect to survive on the battlefield like this?"

Grievous deactivated his sabers and put them away as well. "That was reckless," he scolded.

"So is facing the enemy head-on while you're sleepwalking," she retorted. "Go get some rest. I can do this alone much better than I could while having to watch your back."

"...Don't be a fool," Grievous scoffed. "If you think my absence will go unnoticed--"

"Your exhaustion being the sole cause of our defeat would be far more noticeable," Ventress continued. "Do you know what he'd do?" She paused, and turned her gaze to the floor. "...Of course you know."

"And if he finds out?"

"He won't," she insisted. "Not if I'm the one making the lie." Ventress took a step toward him. "I'm not asking. I'm ordering. And it doesn't matter to me one bit that you outrank me."

He wanted to protest further, but his body suddenly began to feel very heavy. He staggered again, and heard Ventress remark, "If you collapse here, it might be easier to explain."

"No," he relented. "I'll go."

Ventress watched Grievous turn and leave, still staggering occasionally as he went. She called out to one of the MagnaGuard droids standing by. "You--follow him. Make sure he actually gets to his quarters," she commanded.

The droid nodded once and left the room.

...

Grievous awoke gradually, as though the galaxy was slowly fading back in around him. When he was back in his own body without the added weight of severe sleep deprivation, he happened to glance up and catch sight of Ventress standing by in his quarters.

"I told you I could handle it alone," she said, turning to meet his gaze. "I didn't expect you to sleep for an entire two days, but I kept my word."

"Two days?!" Grievous cried, nearly choking on the astonishment and coughing as Ventress continued her story.

"As far as Dooku knows, you came down with a severe respiratory infection and were ordered to rest for a few days by the medical droid," she said. "The mission itself took longer than expected. I only just got back. I think Kenobi was surprised not to see you."

"You should probably get back to Dooku," she continued. "Before he thinks to contact the medic directly. As for me...I'm going to bed. Hopefully not for as long as you."

Grievous stood up and met her at the doorway. "...Thank you," he said softly.

"Don't mention it," Ventress replied. "Seriously, don't. I don't want to be reminded of how nice I've been to you lately."

Day 2 - Complete!

[cripplecharacters]

I'm writing a story where a blind character temporarily gets a mental link to other characters. During this, the characters share thoughts and senses. I thought it would make sense that he would get their visual input, and be able to "see" what they were seeing. However, I don't want it to seem like a cure, or a fix to his disability. It is strictly temporary, but I'm not sure if this is okay. Also, how would you feel about him being curious/interested at the idea of images?

Hi! As a general rule, I would still strongly advise against giving your blind characters magic vision. Even if it’s only temporary, it still serves as a power that negates chunks of their disability, and still reinforces the ideas that sight is the only way to do certain things and that any blind person would want to see if they could, which is not true. Many of us are perfectly comfortable being blind and are not at all interested in powers that would grant us vision.

I would much rather see this character still unable to receive other characters’ visual input and continue to only receive other senses. This route can also be more realistic, because if this character is totally blind or has never had vision of their own before, their brain likely wouldn’t know how to make sense of visual input. Not only that, but I think a lot of people don’t realise that learning how to see really can be learning, and it can be extremely overwhelming and disorienting for someone who never has before or a character that only gets access to vision in limited quantities. It can take real life blind people months and months of visual therapy to train their brains how to see and learn how to function and not get overwhelmed by new levels of vision, and that’s even with the fact that most real life corrective surgeries can only grant minor improvements and usually aren’t enough to make the person no longer qualify as blind.

It’s not as simple as suddenly being able to see and use simple logic to figure out what things are. It can be a real process of teaching your brain how to even understand visual input and it can honestly take just as long to learn how to do things visually as it can take to learn how to do them non-visually. It is likely to slow the character down even more, on top of being just really overwhelming and exhausting. There are a lot of things happening in your field of vision that can just feel like massive sensory overload if you’re not used to it, which can be stressful and confusing when you still don’t understand half of what you’re looking at and how to interpret things like depth and movement and shadows. It might be more likely to throw the character off and cause them to misunderstand what they’re looking at.

It is pretty realistic for some blind people to have curiosity about images and vision, but it’s definitely not all of us, so I would think about whether this character as a person is particularly interested in vision or not. I would also think about whether this character would even want to receive visual input from other characters, given all the factors mentioned above. Many of us don’t have an interest and wouldn’t bother even if it was offered to us, not just because it would be overwhelming and force us to re-learn how to live our lives, but also because we are super comfortable with our blindness and don’t see any real reason to want to see. If this character is well-adjusted and super comfortable with their blindness, they probably don’t think about vision very often and it might only be an idle curiosity once in a long while.

Plus, as mentioned above, it is still a power that negates chunks of a disability and can reinforce negative ideas about blindness, and it’s a bit of a tired trope that can often just leave blind readers groaning and wanting to close the story. Giving a blind character a form of magic vision is often the only way we get to see blind characters in media, and it is way more interesting and ground-breaking to see a blind character that breaks that mold and doesn’t fall into the trope at all. I would encourage you to leave the magic vision out, even if only for the sake of making your story more interesting and unconventional.

— Mod Lane

[trials-by-blood]

Umm...I always see Yautja being paired up with someone strong and skilled and stuff. I was wondering if you could write something with any Yautja being with someone who is shy, meek, and a little chubby. And when they're alone or think they are they sing along to music and dance even though they can't.XD Sorry if I'm asking too much or anything...

Fegris, the dump world where the unwanted are left to rot and crumble.

  This was once a world where the yautja would crash their obsolete vessels so that they could not fall into use by the other space faring races. Ships were not the only things they left behind. Exiles, heretics, or anyone who upset the balance of their society were also left to wither, but not all did.

  In the following ages, other peoples would use Fegris as a place to forget their burdens. The Faceless Ones unloaded their collected specimens here when science deemed that their time of usefulness had ended.

  Now generations of humans, yautja, clade, mind eaters and all manner of invasive species build their cities here, clinging to half remembered mockeries of their mother cultures. Here, all Forgotten busy themselves mining ore, seeking pleasurable escape, stripping precious metals from ancient wrecks, gambling, farming, extorting, building, destroying, breeding, killing.

  One of the few honest livings to be made anywhere, the food service industry, prospers here. Organic people must eat, so this work will never die.

  Heather, an old name from an old world no one can recall, worked for her room and board at what would best resemble a mall food court. It wasn't a particularly hazardous occupation, so long as you don't taste-test the food or stay long after the coalition of retail outlets close.

(OOC: Okay this ran WAY longer than I anticipated and I had to make the choice to cap it off at 2,500ish words. I’m sorry if this TOTALLY misses the vibe you were hoping for, I kinda got carried away. Oops)

  Once, she'd made that mistake. Even her cold hearted rock-sucker of a boss told her not to bother finishing the cleaning if it meant staying after hours, but she hadn't listened. Heather hadn't wanted to leave her work half done and risk losing her job and newly acquired living space on her first day. So she'd stayed to wipe down the counters and load the trolly cart with the leftovers for the cooler. The reward for a job well finished was stepping out into the market spaces abandoned by customers and workers but repopulated by the local Yautja Bad-bloods and their rivals, The Cranium Skaggers. They were working through a territorial dispute.

  The Skaggers were human, but barely. They injected enhancement serums, most barely tested, directly into their brain tissues via an implanted port installed at the top of their shaved heads.

  Heather had stepped out of her safe enclosed little work area into a street brawl, and was pinned between the doors she'd only just locked and the carnal violence of the city. One of the yautja, who's vision was... not like hers, must have mistaken her bright heat signature and rapid heart rhythm for a Cranium Skagger.

  Oh, she tried to run when she saw him move on her with his unhuman, talon tipped hand outstretched to seize her. Heather had dropped her bag, the keys, the silly hat which matched with her uniform, and she ran but he was fast, so horridly fast for something so big, heavy, and grieved with bulky armor.

  It only took him three strides, thud thud thud, to reach her and tangle his terrible claws into the back of her long tunic. She was thrown, landing hard, disoriented and crying out as deep, raw pain shot up her left hip and into her pelvis. Something was broken.

  She saw him, her attacker, and the blades attached to his dominant arm glistening with the blood of Cranium Skagger's, but she didn't even think to cover her face. All she could do was scream for help.

  Her plea was answered. A great clawed fist smashed across the Yautja's mask with such force that his yowling face was revealed as his helm was torn from him. Next, skulls collided with a clapping of flesh so sharp, Heather thought someone had cracked a whip above her.

  One Yautja had begun to fight another. That was when she did the sensible thing, curling her arms over her head and making herself as small as she could.

  She survived that night. That battle resolved itself as she lied on the ground trembling and weeping in terror, but her savior stuck around after all the others had left. He put her things next to her, and waited until her boss came to collect her and get her help. The yautja must have gone through her communicator for her contacts.

  The fractured hip was easily and painlessly repaired but the procedure had completely drained her savings. To her shock and mild horror, someone had wired to her account credits in the exact amount to replace what she'd spent at the Urgent Intervention Facility to fix her leg.

  When she returned to work, who was there at the food court? The yautja who'd stayed that night. He stood out like a broken finger, the cleaned hand bones and torn out skull ports of Skaggers littered about what he wore like grim badges of honor. The sight of him watching her enter her workplace sent a chill up Heather's spine.

  This kept up for weeks, until The Indecent was months behind her. She'd go to work, and he'd be there, just watching. Heather's co-workers weren't fans of her admirer. Yagon, the young clade boy who took the morning shift before her was the least fond of the yautja lingering around.

  Today, as Heather stepped past her bad-blood observer who had decided to lean against the wall next to the employee entrance, Yagon was peeking out from the door to keep a watchful eye on her as she came in for her shift.

  Yagon chittered irritably, antennae vibrating as he took off his smock and hat so he could scratch his double claws at the translator hanging on a lanyard around his the joining of his head and thorax.

  The voice emanating from the little box was monotone and purposefully slow so that it could be heard clearly as he continued chirping and tweeting.

  "You know what that creep does all day waiting for you to come in? He listens to recordings of you singing on your shifts."

  Heather cringed. That was creepy. She'd had a feeling that he'd been able to hear her sing to herself from where he usually hung around, but she never thought he'd record her. It felt incredibly invasive. She briefly imagined confronting him about it, but thought better of it. He could crush her skull between his hands as if it were a brittle little Skitterling egg. She hunched her shoulders and hugged herself a bit.

  Yagon then turned and dropped the claws of his primary arms on her shoulders.

  "I can file an anonymous report for you. Please? I don't want to come in to work one day and find out something happened to you."

  Heather sighed, trying not to vividly imagine how an exiled yautja might retaliate to that.

  "N- no, I think that would just make things worse, Yagon," Heather tried not to whimper.

  Yagon finished folding his smock and hat into his bag and left, but not before offering twice more to file that report.

  A few hours passed and Heather caught herself singing a handful of times as she fell into her work routine but always stopped when she remembered who was listening. It felt awful, being observed so closely and denied the personal freedom do anything without fear of having it recorded for some stranger's entertainment.

  Again, she thought about confronting the yautja watcher, but couldn't help the violent catastrophes imagined with the idea.

  She felt like she couldn't make a noise or do a thing for herself to make this crappy job the least bit bearable without putting on some bizarre show for Captain Cranium Crusher out there! Heather's frustration built and built until she couldn't take it anymore.

  The walk-in cooler. It was sound proof, right? The moment she finished the lunch-rush line of customers holding out their trays for their greasy food, Heather tore off her gloves, tossed them in the general direction of the trash chute and turned on her heel to stomp her way to that cooler door.

  Heather glanced over the counter to confirm the Skull Collecting Jerk was still out there haunting the seating area. There he was, arms crossed against his chiseled chest, ass planted on a chair that could barely hold his weight with his big ugly sandled feet propped up on one of the tables. Bastard.

  She pulled open the thick insulated door and slammed it behind her. First she simply bellowed angrily, stomped her foot, slapped a bag of single serve condiments as hard as she could manage, doing anything to break the severe edge from her frustration.

  "UGH! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" She tore off her work smock and threw her hat on the floor to stomp on it, "I'M JUST A SHORT, ROUND, NOBODY WHO SHOVELS SLOP ONTO PLATES SIX HOURS A DAY. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A REAL FIGHT! I'M NOTHING! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME? WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE SO INTERESTING ABOUT ME?! STOP WATCHING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!"

  Then, spitefully, she sang her favorite song, watching the misty puffs of her breath dissipate as her heart pounded.

  Now, she felt cold and her throat hurt from belting out her very favorite lyrics so harshly. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be reminded of that night every afternoon on her shift. It sucked, and somehow she felt guilty for being angry even though none of this was her fault and she knew she had every right to be angry. So Heather curled up and cried in the cooler for a half-hour at the helplessness she felt. It felt gross, and she knew by now there had to be a never-ending line of pissed off customers outside. She was afraid of confrontation and couldn't ever imagine herself actually standing up to anyone. She could already tell that she'd be crying in her apartment after work too. Whob wouldn't after the verbal abuse she'd no doubt suffer at the service counter from customers tired of waiting.

  Miserably, Heather stood and steeled her resolve to go back out there. With a deep, shaky breath, put her smock back on and fixed her hat.

  "I'll get through it because I'm good at getting through it," she told herself to make it easier to reach for that door.

  Chur-clunk. Chur-clunk. It was jammed. Oh no the cooler door was stuck. Heather put her weight into her next push, then her entire being into the push after that.

  "Oh GODS I'm going to freeze to death!" she wailed, pushing at the door again with everything she had.

  Frustration, anger, helplessness, now panic. She didn't want to die alone of hypothermia at work.

  There was a bang and a great dent had appeared in the thick door. Before she could figure what was happening, the door was torn completely from the reinforced hinges. Heather shrieked and fell squarely on her bottom.

  There he was again, who else would it be coming to her rescue and staring coldly down at her through the dead lenses of that helmet.

  In one swift motion he lifted his left arm and clicked away at the keys of his gauntlet computer with those claws. The hologram display showed Heather a collection of files marked with icons she recognized. They were just cropped, slightly fuzzy pictures of her name tag for work. With a few more taps of his claw, all of the icons dissolved. He deleted them. He'd deleted all of his recordings which pertained to her.

  "Oh, shit, you heard all of that," Heather whimpered, clutching her head with both hands in mortification. He must have heard what Yagon said earlier too.

  He said nothing, made no noise. He just stood there like an imposing statue for a few tense seconds before turning to stride away.

  She wasn't fired for the broken door and spoiled food. Before she could even collect herself from the floor in the cooler, her boss was wired a credit transfer for "damages".

  Later as she heard of his generosity, it also explained the mysterious funds appearing in her account after the hip procedure. That had been Him too.

  Her "admirer" didn't come back after that, which was a relief for the first week or two. After a while she found herself over thinking the whole thing. Yautja were notorious for being socially incomprehensible. Heather wondered if he just pitied her so much after one of his own kind damn-near destroyed her that he felt responsible for her continued safety. Or, maybe he was just a stalking sleeze-ball. She tended to flounder between the two conclusions, but one thing was certain, he was respecting her boundaries now and she appreciated that.

  After nearly a month, she decided that the best closure she'd get was accepting that the entire ordeal was some bizarre misunderstanding, totally on his part, and he did a few nice things but that didn't make up for the weeks and weeks of discomfort he'd inflicted.

  More time passed, Heather became more comfortable with her new job, and she very nearly forgot about that Yautja. The only time she remembered him were on cold days when her hip would ache, but it was pleasantly warm out on the afternoon she came in for her shift and found Yagon agitated with his antennae twitching so fast one might expect them to fly off his head. Heather looked around, hoping that the cleaning she couldn't finish the night before hadn't upset him. What she found was... Unusual, and she certainly hadn't left the thing there last night.

  It was a skull, from what she wasn't sure, sitting there on the counter by the check out scanner.

  "The Creep is back. This time he left a name with that." Yagon's translator couldn't read the inflections in his speech, but Heather could tell where the translator omitted expletives.

  "W-hat was it? His name?"

  "Stone Fist was the direct translation. I can't get the translator to say the correct pronunciation in his language and he made a scene about it until I threatened to call security. You know what that thing means, don't you?"

  Heather nodded, she knew what it meant. Everyone did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty sockets of the skull. It was as if it were staring through her being.

  "I can still file that report, Heather," Yagon offered again.

  "Don't, I mean... As long as I don't take it, then nothing happens. Right?"

  "As far as I'm aware? I think that's how it works."

  If Heather didn't touch it, he wouldn't come back. If she took it home, he'd follow her home because accepting an offering like that was an act of giving permission to pursue courtship.

  Working with that lifeless skull watching her was eerie to say the least. She covered it with her hat midway through her shift so she didn't have to look at it. At the end of her shift as she fiddled with the patterned key to lock up before she left, she considered the skull one last time. No, She wasn't taking it, but she'd leave a note. Two notes actually, one to ask Stone Fist if he would consider an actual conversation before anything else, and a second note to apologize to Yagon for asking him to speak with Stone Fist again.

To Be Continued?

[oldpennyblogwasd]

I edited the entire thing. It took about 10ish hours?

Chapter 1- Received many improvements to environmental descriptions and body language.

Chapters 2 & 3- I'm not incredibly happy with them. They feel a bit directionless. I added some Weiss thoughts in them about the upcoming Autumn Tournament that makes it feel like something more ominous and challenging is on the horizon. I've yet to read through that entire section again, but I'm hoping it will make those early chapters feel more purposeful.

Chapter 9- Released just yesterday. Received some much-needed polish and styling updates. I moved the explanation that Ozpin had called Winter to earlier in the chapter so it felt a little less disorienting, and I added some flavor text at the beginning to serve as a spacer from the Cinder fight.

All other chapters- General grammar fixes, and some light improvements to environmental descriptions and body language. No major content changes of course, as there never will be, but I made it just a smidge more fluent.

I'm too tired to update all of the chapters tonight with their new edited versions, so I'll just update Chapter 9 and do the rest tomorrow. Overall, I'm very happy with the work I did today. Drive lists 531 edits. I also took a lot of notes. Good stuff.

June 7th, 2023

Part one of today's project was to get this blog set up.

Now, part two is to read through all (currently) 50k words of the fic, do some light editing, refresh myself on the smaller things I'm trying to keep track of, and then use that information to better inform myself on what I need to do with the pacing over the next few chapters.

It takes the average person about an hour to read 15k words, but I'm a slow reader. So, oh god. This'll be a long one.

[koko-bopp]

Drinks & In Love

wong kunghan x male!reader

word count – 3K

genre – Mature, fluff

warning(s) – SMUT, friends to lovers, few mentions of alcohol, car sex, choking, low-key exhibition, aftercare.

synopsis – You finally got a chance to meet up with your bestfriend after his concert in another country, one thing leads to a confession, then that lead to a hot session in the back of Hendery's car.

"Oh god! how much have I missed?"

Quite a bit; was what you wanted to say. You hadn't seen Hendery in so long. On one hand, a month might not be a long time for a dynamic duo to be apart, though for you two, one hour just seems too excess. His job was really keeping away from you. It was rather upsetting, but as of right now, you were just really happy to see him.

The thing about gay bars were that everyone had a good general level of respect for each other. Hendery was left alone because of that level. People obviously know who he is, and a gay bar is a rather obscure place for a presumably straight artist to be, but that level of respect was what guaranteed Hendery's safety. You two were thankful for that.

However, the relationship you have with Hendery was something else.

Like, right now, Hendery had locked your fingers in between his, resting the pad of them a bit further down from your knuckles. He'd bring it up to kiss your hand whenever he pleased.

There was that little bit of silence.

Comfortable silence.

"I missed you," He said, caressing the top of your hand.

You couldn't help but smile. He'd say things like that a lot, just small yet simple sentences that would make your heart flutter just enough. "I missed you too."

"I missed your smile," Hendery added, tightening his grip just by a very little, enough for you to noice, but not enough for you to make much of it.

You leaned in closer, your fingers still locked with his, tilting your head slightly, "Surely that's not all, I can name between six to thirty things I've craved about you while you were away."

Hendery switched his gaze to your hand for a second, before brining it up to place a delicate kiss on your knuckle, "I missed your lips; the way they talk, the way they humour..." Hendery brushed his lips against the spot he kissed, "... But I've yet been exposed sounds a couple other boys have been privileged enough to hear."

You smirked, knowing the euphemism coming from the man in front of you, "Smooth, very smooth."

You moved closer to Hendery, and he moved closer to you. It was as if you two were having a staring contest with the acception of staring at the other's lips.

"You gonna kiss me?" Hendery taunted.

You did. Closing your eyes before gently placing your lips on his, initially thinking that it would be a simple peck that stayed for a few seconds.

But Hendery used his free hand to carefully cup your jaw, letting go of his drink to tilt his head to get whatever he wanted; the taste of your Chapstick, the softness of your lips, the feeling of movement of your head indicating that you wanted him just as much as he did.

Hendery was the first to pull away, hearing the small 'pop' as he did. You watched his eyes flutter open, watched him smile in triumph. "You don't know how much I wanted to do that," He said.

You responded by putting your lips back onto his, this time pushing that little bit deeper and hungrier now that you had his permission, and the consent from the handsome boy you've been crushing on for so long.

-

"Hend– oh my god," You moaned, accidently arching your back as the raven on top of had unbuttoned your shirt and was now leaving as much marks as he please all across your chest. Purples and reds flowering on the skin.

Hendery had a smirk on his lips. The bartender had given him a small bottle of lube and a condom just as you were dragging him out of the bar and heading for his car.

You were in the back seat, on your back with one leg hanging off the seat and the other against the neck of it, shirt still on but out of the way from your chest, and Hendery was palming your crotch, towering over you with his lips against your neck.

God, he thought, definitely should've made a move earlier. You just sounded so sexy.

He leaned up, his parted hair getting in the way of sections of his eyes but still making him all the more attractive. His tongue poked through his lips as he watched you buck and breathe hard.

"You know," Hendery started, pushing against your crotch with his palm harder, "I don't think you said 'please', did you?"

You chuckled breathlessly, "Y-you're- ah!– You jerk–"

Hendery grinned, popping off the button of your jeans, "Greedy pet." You watched him quickly open the lube, taking a generous amount to cost his fingers, "Take your pants off."

You did so, he then told you to put your hands against the window of the back seat. You thought he was crazy, not really reluctant, but questioning his though process at the demand.

"All of WayV's car windows are tinted," He explain. The cheeky smile on his face well telling you a lot, he wasn't lying, but he was pleased with the idea of it. He leaned against your neck, giving it a gentle kiss, "You can see everyone, they can't see you."

You weren't going to lie, it was a rather scandalous request. Exactly why you obeyed.

Hendery chuckled, the night continued with being fingered from behind with Hendery's hand around your neck making sure your back was facing his chest. Like a gentleman, he begun slow; pushing his fingers in and out of you at a pace that made you moan softly, his fingers only half in, stretching you for what was to come.

Though, you had noticed as soon as someone barely passed the car he'd be going knuckles deep, but your moans were disoriented and filled with so much pleasure it would make your forget people were outside. He'd bite and lick your neck, pinch your nipples, feeling you flinch and squirm but so pleasured that you were willing to forget his name

And by the time you were ready for his cock, he ripped off the package the condom was in and lubed it well.

Your moans had gotten increasingly louder with every second that went by, his length wasn't a good comparison to his fingers, it was much bigger.

"You sound so sexy for me, baby," Hendery said, rather breathlessly, "You take my cock so well."

You bucked back into him, an adorable whine leaving your lips as he continued to praise you, your head dipping down at how overwhelmed you were feeling, trying to grip onto something yet you just fisted your hand against the window. "H-hmm! Hendery, I'm– Oh my god, I'm gonna cum!"

Hendery left kisses along your marked shoulders, "Not yet."

Whimpers, moans, grunts and skin-slapping echoed the car. Your orgasm was so close and so was Hendery's.

A vehicle had decided to park in the spot next to his. He could barely see a couple step out from it, but it gave Hendery the thrill to thrust harder and faster, ripping out loud moans and breathless whines from your lips. "A-Ah! Hendery, please-"

"Hm, alright, baby. Come for me."

And it was what you needed to make a mess all over the leather seats of his car, splotches of white painting the material. You felt his hot cum through the latex, his groans also confirming the feeling.

He pulled out carefully after thrusting in the last few times for good measure, making sure to milk both your orgasms.

You turned around to face Hendery, rather wobbly, but still successful in doing so, "Was I... Was I good?"

You sounded like a child who'd just completed a drawing they were proud of, though rather you were gazing at Hendery with tired and loving eyes.

He smirked softly, disregarding the condom first before bringing you into his lap. Holding your thigh against his to make sure you were straddling comfortably, then using his other had to caress your cheek, "Perfect. You were perfect."

You smiled, leaning down to place a peck onto his lips, before pulling away, "Are the windows actually tinted? Or are you that much of a kinky bastard?"

Hendery couldn't help but laugh, rolling his eyes jokingly, "I wouldn't lie to you about that," He said, before grinning cheekily, "But it's not soundproof."

A colour of red flushed your cheeks, known damn well what he was hinting at and you couldn't help but bury your face into his shoulder out embarrassment.

He cackled at the act, bringing his hand up to run it through your hair, "[Y/N]?"

You hummed in response, still a bit embarrassed to actually look at him and respond.

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

"Dummy, of course I will."

[ellyswanderlog]

Day 03 - London

I have arrived in London!

Most importantly I've got decent internet + coffee. Downside is that it's 5am so there are no trains for a while. My phone is sucking down volts at the charging station and the coffee is having a similar effect on me.

As with last time I was here, one of the most disorienting things about London for me is that it's very, very familiar. It feels like a part of my home town I just never got to -- the metro works the same way, the etiquette is the same, the general logic is the same. Compared to the US, which always feels foreign to me.

This is my first time at Heathrow and bloody hell, it's extensive. I'm glad it's so early as it's very quiet and civilised. Still, it's like an enormous human conveyer belt, and I'm a little dwarfed by it.

As I'm leaving the cafe, who turns up, but none other than Cindy and Howard again, the couple I keep running into. I'm glad they made it.

Next I'm on an early morning Piccadilly line service, to change in the city, then just a bit further down to Victoria station where my hotel is. There's blue sky out the window and London is looking sunnier than Sydney right now.

I drop my bags, then decide to explore. It's a beautiful day and I feel compelled to take photos -- besides, I need to stay active and awake for as long as I can.

The neighbourhood around my hotel, Pimlico and Westminster, is comprised of long rows of carefully manicured white apartments, immaculate and numbered neatly in black. There's a few long private gardens, giving me a clue these houses ain't for the poors. I'm sort of enjoying walking along, checking out the Londoners, while they're checking out my purple hair in mutual fascination. I haven't seen a single other person with anything close to it and that pleases me.

On a whim, I board one of the hop on hop off buses and gad about town a bit. It's the right thing in my present state -- I'm extremely tired and nursing a second coffee. I take in the sun shining through the green parks, classic Victorian architecture, and snap a few tourist shots of the Thames.

The downside to the blue sky is that it does make the Thames look very brown, but c'est la vie.

After crossing the London bridge, and then the adorably blue and white Tower bridge, I make my way to the Tower of London. It's far less busy than I remember and in no time at all I'm walking into the old castle to climb up through towers and stand on the battlements. It's good fun, and I always like to imagine what it would have been like to actually live in one of these things.

I'm also quite fond of the gold weathervanes. I guess in this country it's fairly important to know which direction the rain is sleeting in from.

I meet the local ravens, huge and intelligent- looking. They know what's up. One of them lands before me and preens for a good while, looking very smug. Aaaark! They say, in a tone not to be trifled with.

The queue for the crown jewels isn't short, and I'm very glad I can make practical and efficient use of the wait to scoff a sandwich I procured earlier. The rest of the line looks envious -- it's lunchtime.

When I make it in, a conveyer belt gives us a glimpse of various royal headgear, including our late Queen's big hat with the funky diamond. They are worth a look and I'm suitably impressed. The tower vault also houses enormous treasure items wrought of gold. There's a solid gold punch bowl the size of a table and I spend some time to figure out how you could make that much punch. It would be like filling a swimming pool.

A few proper castly snaps later and I've had my fill, so I take advantage of a cruise down the Thames, mostly because I'm exhausted and sitting down is appealing. This turns out to be more fun than I realised -- the crew, who insist they are not comedians, are actual comedians, and the commentary is funny as hell.

I disembark with a grin near Westminster Abbey and walk home past all the parliament buildings. London is a city full of the historic everyday -- there's nothing like it in as young a country as Australia. Our single fancy Queen Victoria Building is just about it, whereas here there's one on every block.

I'm really feeling it now -- 23 hours of air travel followed by 10 hours of city wandering. I need to sleep. But just a little while longer.

I check into the Portico, lugging my bag up the stairs to the second storey -- a caveat I was willing to deal with for such a great location. The room itself is delightfully quaint, with an oldschool black analogue telephone, and an actual window onto those cute rows of white apartments, a bit of a luxury in this expensive city. There's a supply of PG Tips and I immediately make myself the best cuppa I've had in years. Mmm. The crazy shower also has some sort of dual rain thingy, and it's pure heaven. Takes a lot to convince me to get out of there. At least the crazy tiles keep me awake.

Sir Owl will apparently watch over me while I sleep. Cool.

Beyond that, I try to hold out, but I have to crash, and very soon I'm dead to the world...

[ellanainthetardis]

I'm throwing this at you know, bc I know you'll give me the feels ;P Imagine a pre-THG situation with an anti-capitol attack after a Games party and Haymitch throwing himself in the line for Effie. I leave the rest to you ;)

Here you go! Some angst for you :p [X]

Stupid Reflex

“What’s the delay?” Haymitch grumbled, shiftingin his seat.

Sitting on those stone benches that formed theCity Circle was never comfortable, even in the VIP area. As it was they hadbeen waiting for the Parade to start for a good fifteen minutes now.

Effie checked her watch for the third timebetween two cheerful waves at another escort or Gamemaker. That was the thingabout the Parade… Everyone had toattend. Mentors, escorts, Gamemakers, stylists… The red carpet before theactual parade was always long and the place was crowded.

“I do notknow. We will be completely offschedule!” she admitted without departing from her smiles.

The stylists had yet to join them and theyweren’t the only team missing them. One and Two had theirs, Six and Ten toofrom what he could see… Everyone else was fidgeting on their seats, regularlycalling out to their escort or one of the Gamemakers to ask what was going on.

It had only been fifteen minutes but thosethings were usually down to the minute and he didn’t really like the obviouspatrols of Peacekeepers. In the city, Peacekeepers tended to remain in theshadow. They were there to protect not enforceunlike in the Districts. Right then though…

“I don’t like this, sweetheart…” he said, dreadcoiling in his stomach.

He wasn’t the only victor who seemed to benervous.

He caught Chaff’s eyes over the crowd and hisfriend’s face was somber.

He was about to tell Effie to stay where shewas while he sneaked down to see if someone had some information when the firstshot resonated in the Circle.

There was a second of utter stillness and thenHead Gamemaker Torello fell down and someone screamed.

Another shot and Five’s escort collapsed.

This time, everyone started screaming andrunning at the same time and it was chaos. Peacekeepers shouted instructionsthat weren’t listened to, gunshots kept booming…

Before he paused to think, Haymitch grabbedEffie’s arm and urged her toward the closest safe place he could think of: theCenter. It was chaos though, the crowd closed on them, a few people fell andwere stomped over…

Effie almost lost her footing once but he kepther up on her feet.

“Don’t go down!” he shouted. “Whatever you do,don’t…”

Someone was shot dead right next to him and thecrowd scattered. Haymitch cursed and pushed Effie toward a statue of Snow –that he would go there for cover was irony at its finest. Peacekeepers wereshooting back but there must have been more than one attacker because peoplewere dropping left and right. Not justpeople, he realized quickly, but Gamemakersand escorts…

He caught the reflection of the sun againstsomething shiny on his left and barely had time to put himself in front ofEffie. The bullet caught him in the upper chest and he would have fallen if shehadn’t caught him and half-carried him. They collapsed on the ground behind thelarge base of the statue.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” she kept muttering, fattears rolling down her cheeks, ruining her make-up. He felt her hands roamingon his chest – not in the way he liked – tearing his shirt open… “Haymitch… Haymitch, I don’t know what to do! Stay awake! Stay…I don’t know what to do!”

She didn’t know what to do with the bloodquickly leaving his body. She had propped him against the stone of the statueand he spared a look down, a bit dazed. Notgood. Not good at all.

“Pressure.” he hissed.

“Oh! Oh, yes!”she hiccupped. She tore a generous amount of fabric from her dress and pressedit against the wound.

“Harder.” he breathed out.

It wouldn’t stop it though. He was pretty sureit was bad. Possibly dying bad.  

“That is what you say every time.” she laughedand it sounded hysterical. “I do not think you will be able to take it hard anytime soon. Why, you might have to deal with vanilla for a while…”

“Vanilla’s good.” he mumbled. “You can go ontop too.”

“You are too generous.” she deadpanned, lookingleft and right with obvious despair. “Help will come. I… I am certain Peacekeepers will come any minute.”

He could still hear gunshots in the distancethough. Whoever those people were, they had come prepared.

They were sitting ducks there.  

“Took a bullet for you.” he muttered.

“Yes. And it was very foolish.” she snapped, wiping her eyes on her forearm. Shelost a fake eyelash in the process. The hand that was pressing fabric on hischest was shaking. “I am grateful but it was very foolish.”

“Need to get away.” he forced himself to say.It hurt to talk and his sight was blacking out. It hurt to breathe. “Get out.”The Circle was a deadly trap. Perfect place for an ambush. “Not the Center.Streets… Away…”

They would shoot anyone trying for the Centerright then. If she could reach the narrow streets though…

“You are too heavy for me to carry, Haymitch.”she retorted. “We will never make it.”

He shook his head, blindly feeling around forthe hand on his chest. “Alone.”

She looked puzzled until understanding dawnedon her face. “Like hell!”

She was terrified. It was so obvious that shewas terrified… And she should have been.She had no business standing in the middle of a gun fight.

“Dying.” he said.

“Certainly not!” she huffed. “I forbade it.” A steady string of gunshotsechoed nearby and she startled badly, letting out a small whimper as her eyes dartedaround, looking for… Relief washed over her face and he wanted to know what hadmade her so happy but he couldn’t look away. His grip slackened on her wristand his hand fell flat in the dust. He focused on her face because it was theonly thing that seemed to matter at that moment. She looked like a washed-outpainting. Colors running down her cheeks. “He has been shot.” she explained.“Please, I…”

She was pushed aside rather brutally and astronger hand pressed on his chest, tearing a pained moan from his throat.

“Taking a bullet for her? Really, buddy? Really?”Eleven’s victor spat, clearly nothappy with him. “I swear, Haymitch, Iswear, if you die because of that woman, I’m gonna bring you back to killyou myself.” Chaff made a face. “And if you get me killed for her, I will be very pissed. Very, very pissed.”

He tried to answer but the only thing thatpassed his lips was an incoherent sound. He could hear Effie sobbing quietly nextto him.

“Stop crying.” Chaff ordered harshly. “This isa fucking mess. We need to get him tothe Center.” Haymitch tried to protest but his friend just waved his stump inthe air. “Yeah. I know. But someone’sbeen stupid enough to get himself shot so we need help.” He heard fabric tearing, more stuff was pressed against hischest… “Listen to me, Trinket. We’re gonna run and you’re not gonna look back,alright? Whatever you see or hear, you run straight for that door and you praythey open it for us.”

“Haymitch…” Effie protested.

“I’ve got him. You just go and try not getyourself killed.” Eleven’s victor grumbled. “Clearly, he wants you alive.”

The moment Chaff hauled him up over hisshoulder, Haymitch’s sight went black.

He woke up feeling sluggish, blinking up atharsh lights on a white ceiling.

“Haymitch?” Effie’s voice called softly. Shecradled his hand in hers, he felt her lips on his skin… “The doctor said youmight be a little disoriented… Do notpanic. You had surgery. I am right here and… I won’t leave you alone. You are safe and…” Her voice broke. He wouldhave loved to ask what the fuck wasgoing on – surgery for what? – but he felt himself going under again. “I amstaying right here. I promise.”

It wasn’t that bad, then.

He trusted her to keep him safe.

The next time he woke up, the pain wasimpossible to ignore. It wasn’t as crushing as he felt it should probably be,thanks in part to the drugs that made his mind a little slow.

“Did I get shot?” he muttered before he evenopened his eyes, half hoping the whole thing was a drunk delirium.

“You will recover just fine.” Effie answered,sounding weak and tired. He wondered how long she had been sitting there. “Itwas… It was serious. They told me…You flatlined twice during surgery, they had to… You died. You…” He opened his eyes to find her crying silently, herface bare of make-up, her eyes red and puffy… The pink wig was still on herhead and she was still wearing the torn dress. “Haymitch…”

He reached for her face and missed his mark bya few inches but she brought his hand to her cheek and leaned into it, clearlygiving up on trying to look collected. She sobbed and sobbed and he couldn’t doa thing because the smallest move made his body hurt.

This wasn’t clever, he realized, not clever at all. They had both showed their handsthere.

The door opened and Chaff walked in with asteaming cup of… something. Hescowled a little when he saw the state Effie was in but simply closed the doorbehind him without commenting, turning his attention to Haymitch. “Good to seeyou awake. And, you know, not dead.”

“Thanks.” he snorted and immediately regrettedit because that hurt. He waited for Effie to stand up and pretend everythingwas fine with her but she just sat there, slumped and defeated like he hadnever seen her, clinging to his hand like it was a lifeline. He let go of herface and their fingers fell on the mattress next to his hip. “The fuck were those people?”

“Rebels.” Chaff explained, handing the cup toEffie. It took a few seconds before she reached for it and his friend didn’tlook impressed with her. “Look, he’s awake, he’s obviously fine… Go back to thepenthouse, take a shower, sleep for a few hours… It’s getting ridiculous,love.”

“I am fine.” she denied. “Thank you for thecoffee.”

“It’s been three days.” Eleven’s victorinsisted.

Effie ignored him, taking a sip of the steamingcup of coffee and staring at their entwined fingers.

“Rebels?” Haymitch prompted because the wholething was awkward and he was too tired to care about it.

“Yeah.” Chaff nodded, lips pursed and stillglaring at Twelve’s escort. “Anti-Games. Anti-Capitols.”

“The tributes?” he asked.

“They’ve been moved to the Center. The Gameshave been postponed until…” Eleven’s victor shrugged. “Those guys got a fewGamemakers, a couple of escorts and three victors including you. It’s gonnatake a couple of weeks to reorganize everything and replace everyone.” Chaff’sgaze hardened. “Now, buddy… Do we talk about the elephant in the room or what?What the fuck did you think you weredoing?”

He scowled, automatically squeezing Effie’sfingers. “Fuck off, Chaff.”

“Classy.” his friend scoffed. “Not like Irisked my neck for yours.”

“Didn’t ask you to.” he retorted.

“Sure, you didn’t.” Chaff snapped. “You just went and got shot for a…”

“Careful.” he advised in a growl.

“Enough!”Effie cut in, clearly losing her temper. He waited for the rant but it didn’tcame. She just brought the cup of coffee to her forehead and closed her eyes.“Enough.” she repeated in a softer tone. “It doesn’t mean anything. It was areflex. Wasn’t it, Haymitch? I was right next to you and you saw the gun… Itwas instinctive. It does not meanmore than that.”

Her blue eyes looked straight into his, almostbegging him to play along with her.

They both knew better, he figured, but…

“Yeah.” he agreed. “Just a stupid reflex. Notlike I would die for you or something.”

A small smile briefly stretched her lips andshe turned her tired gaze to Chaff. “See? It was just a stupid reflex. It is what he will tell Caesar when he asks.”

Haymitch frowned. “Why would Caesar asks?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Chaff sneered. “’Cause you got shot for your escort and a lotof people saw it? ‘Cause Trinket hasbeen haunting the Games Clinic for three days in that state?” He waved his stump at the escort. “How you’re gonnaexplain that, love?”

“I am grateful he saved my life and, while wehave our arguments, Haymitch and I have been colleagues for a long time and thus are friends.” she replied. “This isPR, Chaff. I excel at it. There is not a story I cannot spin.”

“It ain’t the audience you’re gonna have toconvince.” Eleven’s victor spat. “You’ve been stupid. Both of you.” He pointed his stump at Haymitch. “I look atyou and you know what I see? I see a guy who’s so in love with that woman hejumps ahead of bullets without thinking twice for his own safety. You sawanother victor grabbing their escort like you did? Don’t think so.” He pointedhis stump at Effie. “I look at youand I see a lovesick desperate woman who almost lost the love of her life.”Haymitch opened his mouth but Chaff didn’t let him say anything. “That’s what you fucking look like. Andif you think Snow’s stupid enough to buy your friendship story or even the fuckbuddies thing you’ve got going on… Don’t bother trying to deny it, Trinket,we’re past that point now.” Effie glared at him but remained silent. Haymitch’sbest friend shook his head. “Smartest thing to do for everyone involved is foryou to quit and for you to… Forget about her. Unless you think she’s worthbecoming their bitch. In that case,be my guest. But you better be verysure, Haymitch, ‘cause once you go there, the only way you’re getting out iswith one of you in a coffin.”

Chaff stormed out on that ominous statement.

They both remained silent after the door hadslammed on his back.

“To be honest, he might be right but I cannotreally bring myself to care right now.” Effie declared eventually. “I can get the speculations under controlthough. And Brutus did get Valeria tothe Center so his claim that you are the only victor who tried to help theirescort is ridiculous. There must have been others.”

“He’s fuckingher.” he pointed out.

“Irrelevant.” she dismissed. “I am not quittingand you are not… You are not forgetting aboutme. We will deal with this. I do believePresident Snow has more important worries at the moment than finding out if youand I are more involved than we claim. Not that we are.” She hurried in adding the last part when she saw his wince.“We have lost our Head Gamemaker, people are in no mood to watch the Games afterthis, the security breach alone is flabbergasting… Trust me, he has more urgentproblems than us.”

He knew Chaff had a point.

He knew.

But he also had taken a bullet in the chest nottoo long ago and he was tired and in pain and her solution seemed like theeasiest one.

“Fine.” he agreed, his thumb stroking the backof her hand once. “But I’m okay now. Go back to the penthouse, get some restand then go out there and get on top of the story.”

She pouted but eventually nodded, finishing hercoffee in a few long gulps.

“Thank you.” she said quietly. “For saving mylife.”

“Stupid reflex.” he smirked.

She snorted and leaned forward to press a kisson his lips, danger of being discovered be damned.

[thethirteencreators-blog]

1.1

Chapter One Gabriel I like numbers. I like how concrete they are; I like that one is always one and two is always two. One isn't one, but can also be this or that. Two isn't two, but can also be that or this. No, numbers are just numbers. There is no two ways about it. Numbers like me. They're easy to handle and they don't try to fight me when I sort through them or try to fit them into my perfect algorithms. Unlike people, numbers are easy. Numbers don't question you, they don't fight you, and- most importantly- they are kind to you. I don't get that very often. There really isn't much in life that fits as flawlessly as numbers do. People do not fit like numbers do. Well, I suppose that maybe some do, but the masses do not. I've tested many theories on this in my ventures to figure out the algorithm of the human race and not one has been successful. To my disappointment, we humans are just too complex for things like algorithms. People do not work with enough constants. It is this reason that I do not like people. I, myself, enjoy constants. There are things that I know I can work with. I understand these things because I know they are what they are and they will never not be what they are. No matter how you look at it, every human that's ever lived has died; no day has gone on forever; even if you never really found the path, that equation in your algebra class does have an answer; and the sun has never let us down before. Why would any of those variables change? Change is confusing. Change is not needed. The only good change is a change of clothes or a change of a light bulb. These changes I can handle. These changes are totally within my control... I wish I could say the same for all changes. Changing schools is not something I believe is necessary. You are comfortable in elementary school, why do you have to change to middle school? You are comfortable in middle school, why do you have to change to high school? You are comfortable in high school, why do you have to change to college? Really, why is it not an option to just stay in one school all your life, a place where you feel safe, where you know what you should expect, where everything remains constant? The same halls, same classrooms, same teachers, same smell in the gym, same cracks in the sidewalks, same dying oak tree out front. Moving to a new school requires readjusting yourself, it requires you having to become accustomed to new smells, new people, new cracks, and new dead trees nobody bothers removing your whole career there. Is there a reason we are forced to become disoriented every few years? Not really. Not one I can discover or make sense of, and if I can't make sense of it, it's hard to convince me anyone can. "They try to fit you guys into sections," my mom explained to me when I asked her about it, ruffling my hair in that affectionate way I've come to notice many women do to young children. Most things my mother tended to do came off as affectionate. "You know, they're doing what you like to do with your food. You put your veggies on one side of the plate, bread on the opposite, and the fruit on the other. The school system likes putting children together, preteens together, full teens together, and adults together. I guess it's easier to manage." Easier for them to manage, not so much for us. I appreciated the organization, but I knew of plenty of kids who'd gone to schools that went from kindergarten all the way up to your senior year of high school. These were small towns, however, and somehow that made a huge difference. Smaller groupings are much easier to keep track of and control. My phone probably rings for thirty whole seconds before I even realize it. The device is by my elbow on the desk full of neat stacks of papers, magazines, and textbooks I truly didn't need, squirming against the wood. I pick it up, my eyes skimming the contact, and hit the answer button. "Hi, Mom," I say, holding the phone exactly two inches away from my ear and three from my mouth. "Hey, sweetie. I just called to check-in," my mother's warm voice comes through the speaker. I push some sheets on my desk aside and glance over the ones beneath it, remembering what had brought me to my work desk in the first place. My applied linear algebra teacher had assigned a pretty hefty project due in a week and I'd successfully accomplished a good sixty percent of it last night, with the sacrifice of a night's rest. No big deal. I could make up for it tonight. Just go to bed a little early tonight, maybe two hours early. That won't make up for a missed eight, but it's better than nothing. I hum into the phone, shuffling my sheets back into order. "Yeah, that's usually why you call," I respond, wondering why she felt the need to even state this. Mom always called once a day, always around seven thirty in the morning, to check up on me. I glance at the clock and am not surprised to see it's exactly seven thirty. She's silent for a split second, then she laughs. "You're right, it is. How are you, Gabe? You sound a bit tired," my mother points out. Amazing how she always reads me so perfectly. "Did you get enough sleep last night?" "Oh, I was working on my project. It's going really well so far. I have most of it done already!" I chirp excitedly, looking up from my papers momentarily to catch a glimpse outside. The sun is playing peek-a-boo behind some clouds, waving at me with one of its long strips of light. I love how friendly the sky always seems in the morning. My mother is speaking and I almost miss everything she says, my head- literally- stuck up in the clouds. I catch the tail end of one of her mini lectures on getting enough sleep, taking care of yourself, etcetera. "You may be an adult, but you still are growing, Gabe! You need to keep that in mind! Taking care of your body and your mind isn't something to take lightly," she warns me, though it has little effect. I know all this and she knows I know, so I find it trivial to go over it anymore. I don't want her wasting all this time worrying about me when I am perfectly fine. In all honesty, I'm better than I've been in a long time. "Yes, Mom," I say the rehearsed line, smiling even though she can't see me. "I'll keep that in mind. I should head off to class though. My computing class in about ten minutes and it takes me nearly nine to get to the building from here. I love you, Mom." "Love you, Gabe. And remember..." "I won't pull any more all-nighters, Mom. Promise. Perfect mind, perfect soul," I interrupt, getting out of my seat to begin collecting my materials. Her mantra is burned so deep into my memory, it'd be impossible for me to forget it. As annoying as that may be, I honestly don't know what I'd do without it. Unlike most things, it's a constant. It's comforting. "Bye." "Goodbye, sweetie." The campus is always buzzing around this time. Kids are rushing by, practically mauling the small coffee cart and the café before heading out to class. I usually would be joining them myself, but coffee doesn't taste the same when you're by yourself. It tastes lonely. I don't like the taste of lonely and, really, nobody does. My classroom is exactly eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds away from my dorm room. I've yet to get an exact amount of steps recorded, but my estimate is a little over seven hundred. The average person can take a thousand steps in only ten minutes, going at a speed of three-point-five miles per hour. I bet I average that, so seven hundred seems like a generous guess. The teacher doesn't arrive in our class until the bell has rung and nearly everyone is already in their not assigned, yet somehow assigned seats. No one tells you where to sit, but on the first day, everyone finds their place and that's it. You don't move after the first day. It's the unwritten rule of the school. There's a tug on my sweater, right at the point where the humorous bone meets the radius, and I turn my body about forty-five degrees. The teacher is up front talking and I don't want to get caught not paying attention, even if it's unlikely he'd care. "Hey, Gabriel?" the small Hawaiian girl who sits in my row murmurs, her eyes falling short of my own. Her voice is so slight I have to lean over a bit to hear it properly when she clears her throat and continues. "Can I borrow a pencil?" I reach into my pencil pouch and produce a shiny gray mechanical pencil, brand new and filled with lead. I slide it over to her wordlessly, offering- what I hope is- a smile. She returns it kindly and lets her attention be brought back to the lecture. Kam, I think. That's her name! I couldn't recall before. Despite the fact we've sat beside each other this whole year, I've never spoken to her before. I have nothing against her, by no means, but I'm not sure we have much in common. She is an artist with a knack for computing, or so I assume considering she is in my class, and I'm a mathematician. We could talk about numbers, I suppose, but even I realize that can only get you so far.

By the time I leave my last class of the day, I can feel the lack of sleep beginning to creep up on me. I'm starting to droop a bit too far off the side of my desk when the final bell rings. The usual herd of college students make their way through the doors and out onto the campus, returning to their respective areas. I find myself at the doors leading into the café, right in front of the beautiful window that, when seen from the opposite side, gives you a perfect view of the manicured green that stretches from one end of the school to the other. It is the best seat in the whole school and I often was lucky enough to share it with my two best friends. I consider going inside for a moment, but I quickly shake that thought off. It isn't enjoyable to be stuck in that overly crowded place with chatty kids our age, sipping warm beverages and snacking on fresh baked goods in bean bag chairs... at least, not without Calliope and Kaito. The two of them make everything feel a thousand times better. The sky seems to be a different blue when I'm with them and flowers have a sweeter smell. Life, all around, is just much sweeter with friends by your side. My two best friends, or Foster Parents as they sometimes call themselves, are both working a shift at the local clinic tonight. Calliope is studying to become a nurse, something she tells me she's dreamed of since childhood, and she managed to get a job there for the school year. Kaito, despite going to school for marine biology, followed her there and somehow got a gig as a receptionist. I considered also filling out an application to join their adventure in medicine, but my parents suggested it best I focus solely on my studies for now. If they were off, I'd go in there. It's nice going in there with them. We sit and talk at the table near the window, and the two of them occasionally get up during Karaoke Night and perform Their Song, Enchanted. The two of them mix well together, both vocally and romantically. Just as I start moving away from the Campus Café, the door swings open and a familiar boy with a flamingo scarf walks out sipping something pink out of a clear cup. I'm pretty sure he starred in our school's performance of Phantom last year as The Phantom, but it's hard to recognize him without the mask. Out here, he looks so normal with his colorful clothing and stylish hairstyle. We nearly run into each other, but I manage to divert, my head down. "Sorry, dude!" he apologizes in a friendly tone. I don't look up, I just mutter a sorry back and wave him off. The coffee cart has no line at it for once, so I stop and purchase a hot chocolate from the barista. There are two kids who work there after school, a pretty chill guy and the most high strung girl you'll ever meet. Luck seems to be in my favor today, it's the boy. "You look like you just walked off the set of a Tim Burton movie," he comments as he goes about serving up my drink. I shrug my shoulders, about to tell him he isn't the first person to tell me that. I've got the powdery skin, the powdery eyes, the unkempt hair. (Although, I usually do keep it rather neat. Today is a just a bad hair day.) I don't say this, though, and instead I just let this awkward silence hang between us before he slides the cup over, my name written on the side in neat handwriting. "Have a good day, Gabriel." "You know my name?" I ask, shocked. Not many people notice I'm there. Not many people are observant enough to see me and that is often how I prefer it. The barista chuckles, his face widening a bit to fit his smile. He's got one of those smiles that lights up his whole face and even the air around it. "Of course I do. We had basic English together last year. I sat behind you," he explains, reaching over to take the money I was offering him. "You're Gabriel, your friends call you Gabe." "I'm surprised you noticed," I say, glancing down at my drink and the beautiful lettering sprawled across it. It feels oddly satisfying to know that this entirely random kid is aware I exist. Is that strange? I'm not sure if it should be, but it doesn't feel as if it should. "I notice a lot of things other people miss," he explains. I check his name tag. "Well, thanks, Joakim," I say, praying I pronounce it right. It's not a common name, but I have seen it before. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess it's German? "I'll see you around probably." "Probably," he agrees, still giving me that smile most people reserve for their best friends. As I walk away, I think to myself, I've been buying coffee from that guy for nearly two years and I never once realized we had a class together. Now that's weird. I take a long sip of my hot chocolate, wincing only a little when it burns my tongue, and tug my phone out. There are three messages for me, all from Calliope. She wants to know if I'm up for going with her and Kaito to Karaoke Night on Friday. I text her back that I'll come as long as I don't get too much homework. Today, unlike most days, I have no homework whatsoever, which means I will spend the rest of my night either watching my favorite anime all over again or rearranging my bookshelf for the third time this week. It's not that the shelf really needs to be arranged again, but my books never look as if they are arranged correctly. I color-coat them and it looks weird, I place them by genre and they look sloppily tossed there, I go tallest to shortest and they tip over... That bookshelf doesn't want to cooperate with me. I slide my phone into my pocket and make a left turn down one of the streets in between the building containing the café and a building full of tech classes. There's a single car parked at the curb which I don't pay much mind to. Someone is sitting inside, fiddling with their phone, probably calling to make plans with someone. I keep walking, my head positioned at forty five degree angle, just high enough for me to see where I'm going but low enough for people to know I don't welcome eye contact. My hand reaches into my pocket once again to grab my phone when I feel it buzz, but I never get to grab it. Darkness overcomes me and seconds later, I feel myself fall flat and then nothing.