#it's more of a step-by-step progress log really but eh

[i-draws-dinosaurs]

The Progression of the Jack-o-Lantern Sauropelta

Remember this guy? This was one of the most detailed digital paintings I’ve ever made, and I thought it might be interesting to show you guys the different stages I went through while making it.

Stage 1: Finding and Posing References

I try and use skeletal diagrams and references as much as I can when reconstructing a dinosaur. Finding this one was a bit difficult, since most skeletals are put in a profile view so you can see the legs and stuff. Luckily for me, ankylosaurs look really weird from the top, so there’s more top-view diagrams of them than most dinosaurs. This skeletal in particular comes from GetAwayTrike on DeviantArt. They do some really good diagrams, and often put reconstructions of different specimens side by side for comparison, which is really useful. You can find the Sauropelta skeletal here. I then reposed the skeletal into a curved shape using the Lasso tool on Photoshop (I’m pretty sure the Lasso tool or some variant of it exists on almost every digital painting program, which is handy).

Stage 2: Sketching

For the sketch stage, I started out with the muscles and shape of the body, in red. The tail in the reposed skeletal seemed a bit too strongly curved, so the sketch’s tail has a gentler curve to it. After the muscles it was time for the osteoderms (the spiky bits). It was really fun, for a sarcastic definition of fun that actually means it completely killed my hands. Only a person who has drawn an ankylosaur before can understand the torture that is drawing osteoderms. I didn’t even really need the ones in the middle.

Stage 3: Base Colours

The first stage of colouring was fairly easy, since it was just filling in the main shape of the dinosaur. I had the brush opacity set to something like 80% to make it a bit more varied and not just a solid chunk of colour.

Second stage, I made the background black because black backgrounds are cool, and put in the basic colours that I wanted it to have. I had the brush set to a really low opacity for this, and built up colour in lots of layers which I then merged into one. I also did some stuff with layer styles, painting the middle bits white and then setting the layer style to Overlay to brighten up the orange.

Stage 4: Patterns

For the pattern layers, I started off with just a straight yellow brush and laid out where I wanted the mouth and stuff to go. It was originally a lot brighter but I turned the layer opacity down.

Next I did the darker lines on the back. It looks pretty complicated when it’s small, but it’s really just a bunch of really tiny lines and dots, some of them more spread out than others. I added some extra stripes and stuff onto the head and neck because I thought it looked a bit boring as it was.

Stage 5: Osteoderm Shading (DEATH)

This is the step that took the longest because there’s just so many osteoderms. For the highlights I used a white brush, then set the layer style to Overlay. When you use white on a layer set to Overlay, it basically brightens whatever’s underneath it, so that’s what I use most of the time when I do highlighting. I think it looks much nicer and more natural than just plain white. The shadows are just black.

I wanted to make sure the face pattern was easily visible, so I had to erase a bunch of the osteoderm shading in the middle. In hindsight, I could have just stuck to shading the ones around the edges so I didn’t have to erase like an hour’s worth of work. Well done me.

I’ll close off this post-that-got-way-too-long-for-its-own-good with a gif of all the various stages, because gifs are fun.

[noxtivagus]

i'll be honest n say i still barely know anything abt mostima but i think her design is vv cool ><

[jordanstrophe]

Be a Good Guest part 1

CW: Whump, mild car crash, creepy intimate whumper, luring unsuspecting whumpees into some dark questionable woods, parental whumper, drugging. 

(They get names as the story progresses.)

Masterlist

Annnnd the most oblivious Whumpee title goes toooooo-

Whumpee drove down the endless road, nothing but dark trees surrounded him. This place gave them the chills... He just had a bad feeling every time he drove through. The sun had long set, so it was even creepier with only the dim headlights lighting up the forest, Whumpee was just waiting for a deer or bear to jump in front of the car at any moment.

The car started rattling and slowed down, as Whumpee let out a groan 

“Oh, no no no! Not now!” He cried out, as he tapped the breaks. To his horror, the car didn’t slow down any further. 

“Eh?” He gasped, slamming down on the breaks hard, as nothing happened. A sharp turn came, as Whumpee did his best to glide through, but the car skid with a shriek as it rammed head first into a large tree. Whumee’s face hit the steering wheel, slicing his lip. Whumpee gasped, immediately touching his fingers to his lip, blood falling down his chin. 

“Ow...” Whumpee muttered, pulling a napkin from the dash to hold to his lip. He climbed from the car, his heart sinking as smoke rose from the engine, letting off a hissing sound. 

“Someone tell me this isn’t happening...” Whumpee gasped to himself, shaking his head with a defeated sigh. 

“Are you okay?” A deep voice asked, as Whumpee squeaked in fear, whirling around. There was a man standing right behind him with a dim lantern in hand, swaying back and forth. He looked older, with curly grey hair.

“I’m f-fine.” Whumpee stuttered, lowering the napkin a inch, as blood immediately dripped down his face, he gasped and held it back up. Whumper took his wrists, lowing his hand as he shone the lantern to his face. Whumpee whimpered, trying to take a step back, but Whumper tsked. "Easy there son, let me see.” He instructed. He took his thumb gently to his chin, wiping away some blood. 

“I live in the woods not far from here. I can get you some ice for that. Does it hurt?” The man asked with a sweet smile.  

“I'm okay... Do-... Do you have a phone?” Whumpee stuttered.

The man paused, his wide eyes glinting from the light as he stared at him.

“Of course I do! Why don’t you come with me, you can spend as much time as you like.” The man tilted his head to the side with a grin.

“N-no thank you! That won’t be necessary... I could just really just use a phone.” Whumpee nervously laughed. 

The man’s smile faded slightly. 

“... Of course! Whatever makes you comfortable, got someone waiting for you?” He asked. 

“Yeah! Lots of people, whole group of roommates!” Whumpee completely lied though his teeth. He lived alone in reality. 

“Hmm, is that so?” He asked, looking him up and down. “ Well, wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” He nodded, coaxing him towards the dark endless woods.

Whumpee cringed, knowing this was a terrible idea, but what other choice did he have? He was in the middle of nowhere, no phone, no car, no signal, besides, the man seemed nice. Right?

Whumpee yelped when the man wrapped an arm around his, locking it in place. 

“Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on now! You’ll catch a cold if you wait out here all day. I’ll make you a hot tea.” Whumper pulled him through the woods, the uneasy grip made Whumpee feel both uncomfortable, yet somehow comforted and safe at the same time... 

There was a dim yellow light in the distance, as Whumper lead them to a log cabin in the middle of the woods.

“You live here?” Whumpee asked, looking around. Whumper carefully walked him up the steps, making sure he made it up alright.

“Yes I do! Lovely isn’t it? So peacefully, so quiet. None of that pesky traffic noise at night.” He waved.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Whumpee asked. Whumper stopped with the rusted key halfway in the door. He stood frozen for an unusually long time, as Whumpee immediately regraded his question. 

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t mea-” “-No no! It’s fine. You’re right, I suppose it can get a little lonely all the way out here. I hope it’ll change soon though.” He smiled.

“Oh! Are you going to get a pet?” Whumpee asked obliviously, with excitement in his voice. Whumper blurted out a laugh as he pulled Whumpee into the house by his arm. 

“Not quite, young man, not quite.” He chuckled to himself. 

The cabin was dim, long dark curtains covered the windows, small candles and lanterns around giving the room a soft glow. It was an old house, but well kept aside from some clutter. But there were unusual metal hooks all over the walls and floors.

“Phone?” Whumpee asked, tugging at Whumper sleeve.

“Phone?” Whumper repeated back with puzzle in their voice.

“Yes, the phone you said I could use?” Whumpee tilted their hair, raising an eyebrow.

“OH! Yes! That phone, of course, right over here.” Whumper kicked the door, as it slammed shut behind them, leading him into a kitchen. “Right there! I’ll get a kettle on.” He smiled. He grabbed an old wooden chair from the table, setting it next to an ancient looking wall phone. 

“Woah, I haven’t seen one of these in forever.” Whumpee puzzled, tapping a nail on the old phone. Whumpee jolted at the stove letting out a loud squeak as Whumper turned it on, giving him a creepy smile. Whumpee took a deep breath, as he sat down, lifting the phone to his ear.

Silence. 

“Does it... Work?” Whumpee glanced back.

“Of course it works!” Whumper hollered, as they both froze, staring at each other.

“Ahh, I mean, just give it a minute, there’s a delay sometimes.” He waved his hand. 

“Mm.. Mmkay.” Whumpee muttered, he had no idea how that worked, but he  dialing in numbers anyway.

Silence. 

“Just give it a few more minutes!” Whumper called. “Are you sure? It’s still silent.” Whumpee muttered, his voice getting shaky, his body visibly beginning to tremble. Whumpers eyes shot off the kettle when he noticed his nervousness, grabbing another chair and sitting it next to him. 

“Dearie! Don’t be frightened. I know you had a rough night, just relax, everything will be okay.” He coaxed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, handing him a icepack. Whumpee just let out a small nervous mumble in response, whispering a thank you as he held the ice to his busted lip.  

“Tea is done! It’ll help calm your nerves. I know you must be frightened, you were in a car crash for goodness sake!” He grabbed Whumpee’s chair, twisting it around and pushing him up to the table. Whumpee gasped and froze as he was pushed in. 

He blinked at the delightful cup steaming in front of him. He knew better then to drink that, but it smelled so good, and he was pretty thirsty. He glanced up at the man sitting across from him, looking at him kindly while he sipped his own cup. 

Whumpee sat down the ice on the table, hovering the cup an inch from his lips. It smelled divine. “Is this peppermint?” Whumpee muttered. “Mmhm! Good smell. Do you like it? I can make you something else. I have green, black, Jasmin, white...” He rattled off.

“No! No this is good. My favorite, actually.” He smirked. Whumper gave him a loving smile in response. Whumpee felt rude to not drink it by now, the man had even offered to make him another flavor, and wasn’t even pressuring him to drink it at all. He took a sip, it was just as good as it smelled, as he practically melted at the warm flavor. 

“I’m going to try the phone again...” Whumpee muttered, as he nodded. He held the phone to his ear, as he heard soft ringing. His heart fluttered with excitement as he felt a glimmer of hope. He reached up to dial the number again, but he could hardly see, they were fuzzy and swaying back and forth. 

“Mmm..” Whumpee whimpered, slowly lowering the phone, as he realized the ringing wasn’t coming from the phone. He slowly turned around to face Whumper, the ringing in his ears getting louder and louder, his head jolting as lightheadedness hit him. 

“You... Did you...?” He breathed, the blurry image of the mans smiling face burning into his mind as his knees buckled. He felt arms wrap around his chest as his knees hit the ground, the embrace around him keeping his chest up as a hand stroked across his face. He blinked his eyes open, as the next thing he knew he was laying on a couch with his head resting on the mans lap, who was slowly stroking his hand through his scalp. He desperately tried to cry out, but nothing came out.

He couldn't move. 

“What a sweet precious little thing...” Whumper smiled, playing with his hair. Whumpee felt like he was listening to the words underwater, as his voice haunting and distorted to his ears.

“Don’t worry son, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

“So long as you behave.”

Next

Tag: @alien-octopus

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ *:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 6)

lPart 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, (here) Part 7,  Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

TW for hypothermia, illness, talk of self-isolating behavior, mention of Yennefer’s self harm scars.

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The trek to Kaer Morhen was a penance, and that was just getting from the city to the base of the path that the witchers called ‘The Killer’. Autumn was truly giving way to winter now and fine flurries came down with more ferocity than was warranted from a few snowflakes. 

They were all on foot, Roach pulling the cart with their supplies. As they advanced up the trail Ciri and probably Jaskier would sit in the cart. The path was called killer for a reason, it could kill witchers. For now, though, they let Roach rest as much as she could. It would be a tough climb for her as well, and whenever they stopped Geralt gave her extra brushing down and treats. 

Geralt...hm. Well, since Jaskier had snapped at him back in the city their relationship, already tense as a bowstring, had gotten worse. They didn’t snap at each other, but tiptoed instead, walking on eggshells. Jaskier was waiting, had half expected Geralt to cast him aside again, or to gripe about Jaskier’s uselessness. Instead the witcher walked around like he’d been kicked. 

He was always looking at Jaskier though, glancing at him with that piercing, penetrating gaze. He was examining the bard for something, but for what, Jaskier didn’t know. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let Geralt have the satisfaction of seeing it. He kept walking, head up, eyes straight ahead. He didn’t complain. He barely spoke. Making himself as unlikely a target for Geralt’s ire as possible. 

That was the odd thing though. Geralt didn’t seem to have much ire, per say. It was almost an overbearing sort of concern. Jaskier tried to make it fit in his head, there was something there, Geralt’s anger at Jaskier for sleeping with the innkeeper, the care with which he’d carried Jaskier into town, this awkward caution. It meant something. In his heart Jaskier knew what he hoped it meant. He couldn’t trust his heart with this though, he needed to use his head. There was a disconnect between Geralt’s words and his actions. Between the mountain and now. He needed to use his head.

His head was aching.

Jaskier really barely could think, much less work out the complexities of Geralt’s character. His chest ached. That little, half-ache had taken root in his lungs and bloomed into a great, heaving flower. He was coughing now, which he was trying to hide, he knew, without much success. The cough had started dry and grating, but had progressed to a hacking wetness. It would have been bad enough, but it was upsetting Ciri. Jaskier wouldn’t go within six feet of her, for fear of making her sick too. Her big, grass green eyes watched him almost as consistently as Geralt did, and she was picking up the little crease between her brow as well. Sometimes, when a particularly vicious cough made him double over her lip trembled, and that was a special sort of torture. Yennefer kept giving him tea, too, which was a weirdly kind, somewhat pitying gesture.

“I’m not good at healing,” she grouched at him from across their campfire the first evening on The Killer.

Jaskier shrugged. “’s fine,” he said, taking another hesitant sip of the tea. It was herbal, not in the way that mint was herbal, but the way that a handful of leaves and moss tasted herbal. 

“Mh,” Yennefer said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “It’s one of those things you have to specialize in, magical healing. Magic heals magic injuries best, anyway.”

“I’m okay,” Jaskier said, fully aware that he wasn’t, but glad that Ciri and Geralt had gone to fetch more wood so he wouldn’t have the big witcher sniffing out his lie.

“You need a healer.” Yennefer skewered him with her gaze, purple meeting blue like a lightning storm. “You’re sick.”

“I don’t see why it should bother you.”

Yennefer sighed and stood up, grabbing the kettle from the fire. She poured herself a mug of the tea and sat down with it next to Jaskier. After a brief examination she drank it, then winced. “Eugh. It bothers me because we’re friends.”

“We are not.”

“Eh, well, Geralt screwed me over, he screwed you over, the enemy of my enemy...”

“Geralt isn’t my enemy--”

“Could’ve fooled me with that shouting match back in town.”

“Anyway he screwed you over more...literally.”

Yennefer looked at him, a little smirk on her lips. “Is that what this is about? That I slept with Geralt?” She looked at Jaskier, squinting at him as he studiously examined his tea. “No, that isn’t it,” she decided. “You aren’t upset he slept with me, you’re upset he never slept with you.”

“I’m upset that he decided he loves you!” Jaskier shouted, unable to take the prodding. He regretted it as it kickstarted a coughing fit that made him double over. He spat out some phlem and straightened up in time to see Yennefer’s grimace. 

“He decided he loves you,” Jaskier said, panting a little. “After only just meeting you. He decided he couldn’t live without you in his life, so he bound you with that djinn to keep you safe. And that sucks for you, it does, and he shouldn’t have done it. Melitele knows the man never thinks things through, it’s just...”

Jaskier looked into the fire and Yennefer waited.

“He barely knew you and he couldn’t bear to be without you. I spent two decades at his side and he’s never called me a friend.” He scoffed ruefully. “Called me a shit shoveler though.”

Yennefer nodded. “I heard.”

“You did?”

“I hadn’t gone that far when, well...you’re a pain in the ass, bard, but you didn’t deserve that. Men like Geralt...” she twisted the mug in her hands, turning it round and round and Jaskier saw flashes of scarred skin at her wrists. “People like Geralt and I,” she continued. “We pull at our safety ropes until they come undone. It’s just how we are. We were hurt so much, so long, that when we hurt we reach out and undo any ties that could help us.”

Jaskier was at a loss, so he bumped his shoulder against Yennefer’s. “You’re so much more fashionable about it though.”

Yen smirked and returned the shoulder bump. “Definitely. Geralt though, he cut all his safety ropes that day.” She didn’t have to specify which day. “I cut mine first though. I didn’t want him romantically, not really. It’s djinn magic, he’s not my lover, and I can’t fix him and I don’t want him to fix me.”

“Fix him?”

“I think people like Geralt and I can heal, but we can’t heal eachother. Ciri helps. I’m a mom to her, you know? She called me Mama the other day when she was really sleepy and it felt...” Yennefer trailed off, then she looked over at Jaskier. 

“I don’t love him, not like you do, and he doesn’t love me. But I’m not good with these things, and I can’t help you two fix what he broke that day. More than that, I won’t. It’s not my job to fix you two, or to deal with your problems for you, and if you two can’t communicate on your own then maybe you shouldn’t at all.”

“I communicated,” Jaskier said. “Twenty years. I thought those were the best years of my life, and I gave them to him, and did all the communicating. I’m not doing anymore. If I’m not...” Jaskier was ashamed to find a lump in his throat. “If I’m not a curse and a burden to him then he has to tell me, has to say it, because I can’t keep going if his words are just going to contradict his actions.”

“Good,” Yennefer said, standing and pouring her tea out onto the ground. “Don’t. Make him communicate. It’s up to him. And to make it be up to him, that’s up to you. He has words. If he can use them to hurt you then he can use them to heal. Don’t give in.”

It seemed that portion of the conversation was over because Yen began setting up her magic tent. “You’ll sleep in here tonight. The cold isn’t doing you any good.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Can’t. I could make Ciri sick.” 

Yennefer sighed again. “You’re right, of course, but you’ll sleep in Geralt’s tent. He can’t get sick and he’s a walking heater.”

Jaskier was about to protest when his lungs heaved again and he began coughing. The force was so great he swore he felt his ribs creak. Despite all the mucus his throat felt torn and raw. He dragged air back into his lungs then spat. Blood came out.

Of course, that was the moment Ciri and Geralt returned from getting firewood.

Ciri gasped, eyes wide, and Geralt dropped the armful of logs he was holding. They scattered but the witcher paid them no heed as he advanced towards Jaskier, stepping over the rolling wood. Geralt gripped Jaskier’s face and tilted his head back, holding his mouth open. 

Jaskier wondered what he could see with his witcher-enhanced eyes.

“Throat’s raw,” Geralt grunted after an awkward moment of peering into Jaskier’s mouth. “Probably nothing internal.”

Geralt wiped the blood from the corner of the bard’s mouth with his rough leather glove, then he peeled off his glove and pressed a hand to Jaskier’s forehead. Jaskier just leaned in to the warmth of Geralt’s palm, but it was obviously chilled, the temperature of a normal human, not the furnace heat Geralt normally held. 

Geralt frowned and stepped closer, taking his hand away and pressing his cheek to Jaskier’s forehead instead. It was a gesture that Jaskier’s nursemaid had sometimes done, an easier way to check for fever if one’s hands were too cold to tell. He wished he could linger there, in the warmth of Geralt, so close, with his cloak still smelling of the pine forest all around them and the copper-sharp scent of snow as well. 

“Fever,” Geralt grunted.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, eyes filling.

Jaskier pulled away and bowed theatrically, ignoring his aching joints’ many protests. “Never fear little princess,” he said. “’twould take more than a fever to best the bard Jaskier.”

Ciri didn’t giggle, but at least she didn’t begin to cry. 

That night Jaskier and Geralt tucked in together, sharing not just a tent but a bedroll. Geralt had turned onto his side and pulled Jaskier in so that his face pressed to Geralt’s collarbone and he was surrounded by the witcher. It was as if Geralt was shielding him with his body, protecting him from an enemy, but that enemy was inside Jaskier already, and he could feel the fever burning through him, even as he relished the warmth.

His mind drifted to other times. Days and nights when coin had been tight and they’d shared beds, shared meals. They’d shared lives for so long, orbiting around eachother. Geralt like some bright planet and Jaskier his moon. He ached for it to be like that again, but he couldn’t do it alone, Geralt had to be part of it too, had to want that life to exist, not just allow it to happen. 

The next day dawned white. Snow had fallen and continued to do so, the little flurries of before now a full snowstorm that whipped and raged. Geralt loaded a pack full of supplies onto his back to lighten Roach’s load, then they set off. 

Ciri and Jaskier walked as long as they could, but the wind beat them back. Yennefer was struggling too, pushing magic in front of her so that the snow buffeted off of it, streaming around her and making the walking easier, but Jaskier could tell it drained her, and her shield flickered sometimes. 

Ciri stumbled once, around mid morning, and Geralt picked her up by the back of her cloak, scruffing her like a kitten. He patted some snow off of her and placed her int the cart with the supplies. Jaskier was going to go at least a couple hundred more feet, but Geralt scruffed him too, bundling him into the cart alongside Ciri. Jaskier prayed he wouldn’t get Ciri sick, but with the wind howling around him he imagined that whatever ill humors he could exhale would get swept away. He curled up opposite the princess, the pair of them ducking down miserably as the snow blew over the sides of the cart. He heard Geralt speaking to Yen. 

“We can make it by nightfall, if we push. Can you make it?” His voice was pitched above the wind, but still barely reached Jaskier.

“I can make it,” Yen said. “I’ll have to, they need warmth, and Jaskier needs medicine.”

“Vesemir knows herbs and potions, he can heal him.”

“Then we’d better get a move on,” Yennefer said. Her voice was strained, but they forged on anyway. 

Jaskier took occasional peeks over the sides of the cart. It was a winding path, a goat track, really, but the northern mountains were said to be beautiful and he imagined it must be very scenic. As it was, the wind and snow obscured most of his vision. What he could see were ancient pines, large and weather worn. Nevertheless, they swayed like reeds in a current in the hellstorm that whipped around them. 

“Ciri,” Jaskier wheezed. “Let’s play a game.”

Ciri, tucked into her cloak so far that he could barely see her, gave a muffled, “okay.��

“How many red things can you name?”

“...apples,” was the muffled reply. 

“Cherries.”

“Rubies.”

“Wine.”

“Chili peppers,” Yennefer said, the wind almost stealing it, but Jaskier and Ciri smiled at eachother for dragging her into the game.

“Raspberries,” Ciri said.

“Blood?” Geralt grunted.

“Gross,” Ciri said, at the same time as Jaskier said, “What a witchery answer.”

“Tomatoes,” Yen said.

The game trailed away for a while as the cart rattled worryingly across some tough ground. Geralt and Yennefer ate while they walked, and Ciri and Jaskier chewed on some dried meat. Mostly Ciri, Jaskier dozed, too exhausted to even chew. 

When he opened his eyes again the wind was still howling, but the sky looked darker. It must be evening.

“Dandelion,” Ciri whispered. “are you awake?”

“Mmhm,” he said.

“I’m cold.” 

Jaskier was too, the snow had soaked into him so he was damp, but then it froze again, taking him with it. 

“We’re almost there,” Geralt grunted. His voiced sounded strained and weary, but Jaskier didn’t have the strength to look and find out why. “C’mon girl,” Geralt said, clicking his tongue at Roach. “We can make it, do it for me.”

“Hey Ciri,” Jaskier slurred, tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“Hm?”

“Roses are red.”

He imagined Ciri smiling at him tiredly, but he couldn’t see her, bundled in the blankets. He could hear her teeth chatter though. “Jam is red, sometimes,” she said. 

“Eskel’s shirt is red,” Geralt said, raising his voice above the wind. 

“N-no fair,” Jaskier muttered. “I’ve never even seen him.” To his surprise he was drifting off again. It felt different though, a little like drowning. Some part of him felt he should panic, but he hadn’t the energy. 

“You can see him,” Geralt said, sounding a little frantic. “He’s right there, standing on the path ahead of us. We’re here, Jaskier, look at Eskel.”

Jaskier wanted to, but his eyelids were too heavy.

“Geralt--” began a new voice.

“Eskel please, they need help.”

“I know, give her to me, I’ll carry her the rest of the way.”

Carry who? Jaskier wondered, then he realized that he hadn’t heard Yennefer speak lately.

A whistle came from up ahead. “C’mon Pretty Boy,” another new voice. “I’ll take your pampered horse, you lay them in front of the fire.”

There was some rustling and Jaskier wreched his eyes open with his last ounce of effort. An older man with a moustache and a face like a wall of granite was lifting Ciri from the cart. He took care with her, cradling her and walking away quickly. Vesemir? Probably. His eyes fell shut again. 

“Jaskier c’mon,” Geralt said in his ear. His breath stuttered warmth across Jaskier’s cheek. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re here, just don’t fall asleep on me, please.”

Jaskier wanted to open his eyes, just to reassure Geralt but everything seemed to be drifting away. He was laid down on something soft and felt the heat of fire on his face. There was the scent of pine logs, snapping and cracking as their sap burned away. Hands, Geralt’s hands, rubbed up Jaskier’s arms, forcing the blood to move. His soaked cloak was stripped away, leaving him chilled but dry, and then soft, dry fabric was pulled around him. Someone had wrapped him into a blanket and was rubbing his fingers. Both his hands were cupped between two larger ones and warm air was blown across them. The blood returning to his hands felt so hot it burned and hurt and he squirmed, but he was too tired to pull away. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he heard Geralt say as he rubbed more heat into Jaskier’s fingers. “Ciri’s okay, and Yen’s okay. You have to be okay, Jaskier. Warm up. You need to be warm.”

“Give ‘im some time, Lad,” Jaskier heard. Another new voice. Must belong to Vesemir. 

“He’s so cold,” was the whispered reply.

“The boy trekked after you for years, he’s resilient. He’ll be okay.”

“But--”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, let him rest.”

Jaskier heard no more, but it was so nice, the fire and the fur beneath him, and Geralt, holding his hands. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. 

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They finally got there! 

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[rainyday-deer]

I’ve been playing Story of Seasons: Pioneers of Olive Town and I have..... Thoughts™

Some light spoilers.

I can’t call it a bad game, I’m having fun, but it’s not.... Good, either.

The character customization is FANTASTIC, imo. I really like a lot of the options, and the ability to change the color of your individual eyes is pretty neat! I’ve really enjoyed the addition of being able to customize the MC in the newer games, and I’m glad it’s something they’ve kept around (even if the default MCs are rly cute too)

The addition of a moped is neat, though I’ll admit it seems... Superfluous. The horse in previous games was primarily used as a way to get around faster. I understand you have to unlock your moped, but the same goes for the horse, and with the way the game mechanics work, I have my moped back before I have the stable rebuilt, which kind of...Renders the horse moot. Why would I bother to build the stable now and waste fodder/stamina on an animal when I have a moped again?

In terms of the villagers, I can’t say I’m very attached to any of them. I’ve got a small handful that I guess I like but I’m just generally not invested in any of them or their lives.The dialogue is all very samey, and I feel like there’s little variation in what they say to me-- Which is generally a problem in most of the games, but it seems more noticeable here, and almost makes me ache for Save the Homeland’s dialogue style instead.

The voice clips are a nice touch, remind me vaguely of Magical Melody, and I’ll admit it’s a nice little touch. To be frank, the lack of visible talksprites and heart meters being hidden in notes VERY much reminds me of StH or MM, and isn’t necessarily something that bothers me (even if the camera angles get a lil wonky.)

As for how the farm works... I absolutely hate that the makers can only make one item at a time. I hate hate hate that I have several of these damn things lined up on my farm, taking up space, just so I can have the materials I need, and even then I only get ONE AT A TIME! And I need SEVERAL of these items to do anything from upgrading my tools, to expanding my house, to making clothes. In previous games, YES, you had to have certain items to do these things as well, but you (usually) didn’t need to turn ores into ingots first. Lumber was straight up logs that you cut down, and stones were actually useful. But here? HERE?

Cut the tree down. Save the logs. Put 3 logs into a maker. Get one (1) piece of lumber. Repeat ad nauseam.

By the way, there’s at least 5 different types of lumber. And grass. And you need them all for different things! And you need a lot of them for the different things!

There’s 3 mines, which are, frankly, kind of disappointing. The 3rd and largest mine is only 50 floors, and while the addition of the moles make for an... Interesting angle (and fighting off enemies isn’t new at all in certain games) it’s just... Boring. Part of the reason I enjoyed the mines so much in previous games was part of the challenge! It zapped your stamina so easily, and the further down you got, the more exciting it was! But it (personally) feels like there’s no challenge to these mines, and their low variety makes them boring. In reality, you’re only down there to get ores to shove into the ingot makers, so you can progress. (Because remember, these take more than one ore, to make just one (1) ingot!)

Your farm also has various trees and grasses growing over its 3 levels, which is all well and good. However, they crop up and grow VERY fast, including in places you don’t want them to. You have to cover spaces with flooring to stop them from popping up somewhere inconvenient, and even then, they’ll appear where you weren’t ALLOWED to place the flooring. You can’t just sickle the saplings, either. You have to mash those down with a hammer.

Your sickle is ONLY used for cutting the grass, which makes it almost useless in terms of upgrading. You cannot use it on crops, weeds, etc. Just the grass.

There’s also these blue stepping stones across your farm in various places. To my knowledge they cannot be moved or broken, and you cannot till them away, or place anything over them, resulting in wasted space, frankly.

As for the animals, it’s very... Strange? In my opinion. I’m unsure if it’s because of the mode I selected, but the livestock does not NEED to be brushed every day. Rather, when you go to take care of them, the animal will have a small speech bubble over them, indicating what they want at the moment. Your cows and goats will often have a milk icon over their head most days, and only OCCASIONALLY (in my experience) will they want to be brushed. Strangely, you don’t need to buy any tools to do so, either. You interact, they’re milked. You interact, they’re brushed. It’s all very quick, as well.

Also strangely, you have to purchase the ability to breed your chickens, rather than just putting an egg into the incubator.

As for the animal variety... I like it! The goats and the rabbits are very fun additions! And simply finding your animals (and the new varieties) randomly on your farm and then ‘taming’ them is kind of fun, but it does feel like you don’t particularly get a say in if you want to have the new animals in the first place, even if you CAN release animals via the Earth Sprites.

Which, by the way, make me miss the Harvest Sprites, very much. They’re sort of cute, I guess, but ultimately a little boring, if not helpful. Even the Spirit is... Interesting, and beautiful as she is, she’s so. Bland. You can’t really befriend her, just sort of talk to her, but it doesn’t really seem to do much.

I miss you, Harvest Goddess.........

There’s an added museum feature, very similar to animal crossing, but save for the small statues being built of animals you take photos of, it’s just another way to pad out the game, and is very unimpressive to look at.

Crop, meanwhile, are very... Eh, to me. Crops that previously used to be able to be harvested from all season, last 1-3 harvests before disappearing, and then need to be replanted--Including things like tea bushes. Thankfully, the seed makers are a maker that give you 2 seeds out of 1 item-- Though the seed bags only cover 1 tilled square, rather than 9, like in a few previous games.

Your rucksack is also limited in space-- Once again, nothing new, but very frustrating for a game that requires you to have a variety of materials on hold to make XYZ thing. The shipping bin ALSO only holds so many items, and to my knowledge cannot be upgraded. Got 25 items to ship? Sorry! You can only ship 24! Guess you have to wait until tomorrow :)

There’s also only 2 festivals per season, one of which is a mini game, while the other... Is not. It’s kind of a bummer, actually, and I don’t find myself looking forward to them at all.

It’s not all bad, though!

I do enjoy the ability to build sprinklers and let THOSE water your crops for you. It’s very time and stamina saving, and I thoroughly enjoy it.

The variety of crops and wild flowers is nice as well! You can get some crops grown wild, pop those into a seed maker, and then BOOM! You just got strawberries, or melons, or pineapples for free! Nice!

I DO like that your farm has 3 different levels, and unlocking them by fixing bridges is pretty cool, and genuinely feels like it’s been earned when you DO save up enough money (or materials) to unlock them.

The character models look pretty nice, if not a little strange at times. I feel like they can move stiffly in cutscenes, and they have very limited expressions, but they’re still nice to look at. I thoroughly enjoy the happy dance villagers do when you give them a gift they particularly like.

But...

I won’t lie to you guys, but EVERY time I pick up to play (which I’ll admit is a lot, despite my complaints), I find myself wanting to play the older games instead. Now I’ll admit a lot of the newer games could be lacking in particular areas, but there was ALWAYS a lot of enjoyment for me while playing them, so to have this absolute ACHE to dig out my ps2 or my gamecube to play Save the Homeland or Magical Melody INSTEAD is.... Kind of astounding to me.

It’s a fun game to turn your brain off and play, but I don’t think it’s deserving of the price tag-- Even with the new downloadable content on the way (that also costs money, even if you can save some with the expansion pass.). It feels oddly hollow and very... Mobile-game like to me, and while it’s not the WORST game I’ve ever played, it feels like it’s missing a lot of the charm that previous titles have had.

[dennydraws]

Good Morning it’s ... what year/month is this again?

Hello, hello dear new/old friend! It’s been so long since I’ve written here. Since march last year time has been so strange. It feels like eternity passed and yet none at all. Hearing others feel the same help me from thinking I’ve gone mad. :D;;

This will be obligatory life update that no one is required to read! Please feel free to skip!

My god, where do I even begin... I’ve been home office once again since November and while nice at first it began to slowly but surely chip away at my brain. Bless friends online I could talk to @_@ and I wasn’t exactly the most outgoing person in the first place but the repetitive - get up, go to the computer, work for 8 hours and go back to bed and repeat, began to really drain my brain.

Little things that used to make me happy started to slowly fade - like posting on tumblr and doing these little life updates, sharing whatever doodles I made, working on my comic project ... ... which I’m still absolutely dragging my feet with that chapter next chapter or logging and playing FF14, doing silly memes. It’s like my motivation for everything began to fade. Most of the time my brain just goes “eh why bother...” or I feel too tired and end up sleeping for 10 hours or so.

And with that I started to feel progressively less happy, more petty, more grumpy as if the world is at fault I’m not feeling like my usual bouncy ball of sunshine. I feel upset at circumstances that are way outside my control and it bleeds into all the little things I used to enjoy. I’ve stopped journaling, I’ve stopped taking DnD notes, stopped my lil goal of at least 1 sketch per day, I stopped my gratitude log, heck I started biting my nails again >.< No!! Little things started to annoy me or set me off, which a year ago I’d have wave my hand at and laugh at. And the worst part is, all this felt so, so familiar.

I’m not any special snowflake, everyone had dealt with depression or still deals with it. I had my bleak episode in my 20s where I had a period of, by my own choice, I didn’t go out of my home for months. Now it feels like my brain looks at the lockdown and goes “Oh hey I know this! We’ve been through it before! It goes like this, you lose interest in everything and stare at the wall most of the day and everything that breathes annoys you!” and honestly brain, this is the worst time to try and push this mode onto me! 

I feel like I find it so hard to admit I’m regressing and by an extension, type it down cause I was so, so proud that I climbed out of that pit. I was proud I felt like I was loving the world once again! And now I feel like I’m just floating in existence every day - I’m here but not really. (Bless my patient online friends for being understanding beans in these trying times.)

But hey admitting you’ve got a problem is first step towards taking care of the problem so here I am, typing this down and soon to hit submit so no way to back away now! >u>

Yes, yes I know we can’t all be sunshine and rainbows every day and I get that. I’m not trying to force positivity into myself or the people around me. But when I begin to paint things that normally make me happy in negative colors then something is wrong cause that’s not me.

With that said...  What should I do?

I’m picking Ring Fit Adventure again (I slacked for a month OTL;; ) to kick some activity into this potato body. Sure I can’t walk outside and my country is in front of second full lock down but I can pretend I save the world from a buff dragon through power squats and jog on the way!

I think to take some art requests sometime soon cause seeing people happy sparks joy and I really miss that! Maybe I can make like Friday Night Art Request thing?

Maybe I need social media break at some point. I really want to finish a sketchbook I started and maybe make another flip through video! But youtube is distracting lol :D;;

Maybe push myself to do weekly posts here? Sort of like a journal... and well, to sort of start communicating again with everyone.  

And this post got long and intimidating to hit submit! But going to try my best to climb the pit before it gets too deep. ^o^9 If you have any suggestions or, tips don’t hesitate to drop me a message! Thank you for reading this my old/new friend! I hope your day goes well and you find a spark on the way!

[akillysheel]

TENUOUS. ❜  ( 14 )

Summary:  Trophies. Warnings:  N/A. A/N:  I’m back on schedule!

"What is this? What the hell is this?"

"Rigs, stop pacin'."

Officer Rigsby had never been the best when it came to dealing with the unknown. Pressure seemed to roll off of him like water, but the second things became spooky, he wanted to turn tail and run - and it didn't get much spookier than a strange hand-made hole in an under-developed subway tunnel. Sheriff Braav worked with it. Everybody had their weaknesses. Jack's was enclosed spaces, as much as he argued that it wasn't. Annalise's was insects. He himself had been overtly nervous a handful of times when dealing with the remains of a ritual committed by the Rakanas.

There's just somethin' about creepy pseudo-religion and occult bullshit that sticks in my mind like a bad sign, flashin' red, tellin' me t'get the fuck outta there.

"Looks like a small tunnel of some kind," Cthugha said, crouching in front of it and shining his light in. He could see the other side, though all that greeted him was dirt. Carefully, he balanced his flashlight so that its beam lit his way before shifting to his hands and knees, beginning to shuffle forwards.

"Woah woah woah, hold on!" Stunned by his lack of fear, all Kuro could think to do was grab the rifter's tail, stopping him from progressing any further. He let go in an instant when Cthugha reared back on all fours with an outraged hiss, eyes ablaze, a splash of red staining his cheeks. With his hackles raised, low to the ground like a sewer-dwelling demon, he looked more nightmare than man. "I'm s-"

"Wh-What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Cthugha squawked angrily.

"I'm sorry! I just- didn't want y'goin' ahead on yer own, I didn't know-" He didn't often flounder, had built a career on his ability to adapt to new situations quickly, but Cthugha's reaction had been so left field that he felt slightly lost. It didn't help that the rifter was already unhappy with him. "I'm sorry."

I seem to be saying that a lot lately, don't I?

"What's even the hold-up?" It was a defensive demand, but Kuro would be lying if he said he couldn't see the sense in it. "We come in here suspicious, we find a weird hole that definitely shouldn't be there, we investigate the hole. What in your head's not clicking?"

"It is clickin', but we ain't know if it's safe." He crouched too then, his torch beam joining Cthugha's. Dirt and rock and- "Hey, what's that?"

"What?" Cthugha huffed, leaning forward in an attempt to see. It was discreet, barely visible from their current vantage point, but he could make out something that looked vaguely like wood, splintered and worn. He squinted trying to make more sense of it. "Looks like… I dunno, a plank of some sort?"

"Or a beam," Kuro replied, his mind hopping into overdrive. He already had the sense that something nefarious was happening in the tunnel, had from the moment that Jack had convinced him it was weird, but now that feeling was amplified- as if he'd leapt head-first into hell and was just now realising where he was. "... a beam makes sense, doesn't it? If someone's tryna crawl through 'n' support the hypothetical 'ceilin''."

"Why would they need wood? And how would they get a beam of it down here without looking weird?"

"Eh, Huron's kinda known fer wood. Wooden floors, wooden counters, wooden utensils 'n' boats 'n' desks- wouldn't be too suspicious fer anyone t'have access t'at least a few logs at any given time, or fer people t'be carryin' it round. A lot'a people here build their own stuff too. All they'd'a really had t'do is sneak down the steps. Could've been easy at night, when the services were finished. I'm more impressed they managed to get it through the dirt - 'n' make a tunnel in the first place." His district was nothing if not humble. Whatever they couldn't do themselves, they asked their neighbours to help with, but everything was man-made in some fashion. Wood, alongside stone, was arguably their greatest resource. It was precisely the reason that for every tree they cut down, they planted three more - and had done since their people understood the concept of conservation. "I've got a bad feelin' about this. This's…" He paused, looking up at the subway's stone ceiling. Immediately, his mind filled up with images of huros submerged beneath several feet of dirt, flailing, attempting to scream for help only for it to fill their mouths, then their lungs. Who the hell thought this was a good idea? How was it even there? "... this's so fuckin' dangerous. Even if this is miraculously innocuous, we gotta find who dug it 'n' rip into 'em fer bein' so goddamn stupid."

But with that statement made, the main obstacle still remained. It glared at them like an omen in the near future.

"... we have to go in there," Cthugha said slowly, looking up at the sheriff. With them both on their knees, he was frustrated by the fact that their height difference still remained. Sink lower, damn it. Throw me a goddamn bone here. "... or I do. I'll go in there."

"I'm not lettin' y'go in alone," Kuro replied, his voice unfathomably firm.

Cthugha laughed slightly, the sound almost forlorn. "Don't be stupid. If I'm gonna have to crouch low, how're you gonna get through?"

"I'll just have to press myself tighter t'the ground than you."

"... you're so stubborn," he said with a sigh, his tail wriggling behind him like a worm as he thought. "... I'll go first. If it's worth ya coming in, I'll blink ya. How… about that?"

Kuro blinked, surprised. An olive branch. That's a new one. "Did y'just… compromise with me?"

He supposed he deserved it when all Cthugha did was throw his head back and groan.

"Hold the torch still," Cthugha ordered, lowering back down to his haunches. "When I'm through, slide it over."

"Oh, but..." The sheriff paused, as if recalling something imperative. "Yer weakened powers. Won't blinkin' me anywhere drain y?"

"Nah," he lied. "It's only a tiny distance. It'll be fine. Now hold it still."

"Got it."

With a breath to prepare himself, the rifter dipped close to the ground and began to drag himself through the short tunnel. Inside of it, he realised that he had a fair amount of wriggle room, but Kuro would be packed pretty tight if he was to attempt the crawl. Dust and dirt found a home in the cotton of his vest, and he tried not to focus too hard on the foreboding feeling looming over his head like an abandoned church bell. He'd always been able to sense when something wasn't quite right. Much like an oncoming apocalypse changed the density of the air around him, danger electrified his senses. Everything felt sharper, harsher, and the all too familiar sensation of being watched burned a hole in the back of his head no matter which way he turned. Whatever this tunnel led to, he knew it was bad, could feel it in the pit of his gut- like a black hole opening its hungry maw.

That feeling from the steps… it's so much worse now. There's something bad here. Something awful.

The entire length of it was around seven feet, and towards the end, the hole opened up a little like the mouth of a cave, the ceiling no longer flattening his hair. Without the use of a torch, Cthugha couldn't see an inch in front of his face; only had the single vacant beam from the light he'd previously laid down - and his body was blocking most of it. His heart was pattering, like a tiny excitable bunny had replaced it.

"Flash," he said passively, beckoning blindly behind him at the tunnel's entrance. There was a beat of silence before the sound of it skittering along the dirt echoed dully behind him. As soon as it bumped into his leg, he picked it up and shone it ahead. "Oh… oh shit."

"What?"

Kuro's voice was distant, like the wispy branches of a dying tree, until eventually it faded out altogether.

Cthugha rose hesitantly, one arm gradually raised. His hand made contact with the mud above, though only after he was fully stood up.

"... what the actual fuck is this?" he whispered, a nervous laugh leaving him as he shone his light around the small alcove. It wasn't big, perhaps a six-by-six square, and in every corner stood a wooden beam. The ceiling wasn't too much higher than he was ( Kuro would definitely have to bend if he came in ) and it smelled dreadful- like a grimy cupboard in a long-dead house, the air stale in the same way that fast food made a car smell. The dirt walls were cold and dark.

Barely audible: "Holy shit. Someone's made a room down here."

Cthugha… Cthugha! CTHUGHA!

"Who could've done this though? How is it here? How has it not caved in? How old is it?" His head filled with questions, with confused white noise, and everything felt fuzzy. Why? Why, why, why?A hand stuck out clumsily, making contact with the closest wall. How many times did I walk right on over this? How many times did we all walk over this? How could I not have known about this? How could-

"Cthugha, fer FUCK'S SAKE-"

Reality rushed back to him quickly enough to make him feel dizzy, his breath coming out in shallow pants. It wasn't the scenario. Hell, it wasn't even the setting. He'd seen so much over the course of forever, and he had no doubt that he'd see infinitely more. As far as weirdness went? A hole in the ground hardly scratched the surface. No, it was something else, something more than that; it was the feeling of being close. So close. An end to his cycle felt tangible, white-hot and near, so agonisingly within reach that he felt overstimulated. He could barely stand it. Close. Close. CLOSE.

"Yeah," he said in a tone braver than he felt. "... you're gonna wanna see this, Sheriff."

When he blinked in front of the two officers once more, he noted that Kuro looked worried- moved, even, brow furrowed deeply, hands raised in a silent plea for touch, for reassurance that he was back and with them and close.

"God-damn-it, don't go quiet like that," he scolded, not caring whether Cthugha resented him for it or not. "... what's in there?"

"As far as I saw? Nothing. But I still think ya should see it," replied Cthugha, reaching out and curling his fingers around Kuro's coat-clad wrist. The dripping was back, the sound that had followed them like a shadow, incessant, irritating, and Cthugha realised how quiet it had been in the hole.

"Wait, wait, wait-" Officer Rigsby chimed in, his flashlight clutched in both hands. "You're not gonna leave me here, are you?"

"No, a'course not, we just-" Kuro paused, free hand resting on his belt, fingers absently tapping the faux-leather as he considered how best to console him. He knew that leaving him outside was a risk, at least in some capacity, but it wasn't as if they were going far away and leaving him for dead. "Y'need t'stay out here. Keep watch. We're gonna be just here." When he didn't look convinced, the sheriff bridged the distance between them, pressing a solid hand to his shoulder. "Wren. Yer gonna be fine. We'll be in 'n' out, quick as y'like. I need y't'keep it together, just fer a few minutes, alright?"

He'd been criticised in the past for being ''too receptive'' to his coworkers on numerous occasions ( though mainly by Vide officials, he'd noted with bemusement ), but he'd be damned if he paid them any mind. The way he saw it, the happier his officers were in his company, the harder they wanted to work - and the more comfortable they felt putting their faith in him as their leader. Who wouldn't want to come through for somebody who had extended patience and understanding to them, who treated them nicely and asked how their weekend was, who baked cakes and muffins and left them at the precinct's entrance? He waited until Rigsby nodded, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"Alright… but don't go quiet!" Momentarily, he glanced at Cthugha. "He damn near gave me a heart attack…"

"Sorry?" Cthugha asked feebly before taking Kuro's wrist again. He told himself that he was still mad- that he wasn't over what he'd said to him in the woods- but he could hardly think about that now. Close. "I'd mind your head."

"My he-"

He didn't get the chance to say anything else, his surroundings changing quicker than he could comprehend. Before he could really think about it, he let out a grunt of pain, a hand rushing to the crown of his skull.

"I told ya to mind your head," Cthugha said, retrieving his torch. Kuro watched its beam flit downwards as the rifter hunched over, exhaling tiredly.

"Y'said it wouldn't drain y'."

"It didn't drain me. I just…" But he had nothing to say. Nothing concrete. The jumps had been tiny, but jumps nonetheless; his depleting sources were screaming at him to stop. "...shut up. Just shut up."

"Shut up?"

"Just- stop pretending ya give a damn about me." It's breaking my heart. Nobody ever gives a damn about me. Most people don't even know I'm here - and they never will. "Promise I can take it. I've had my big-boy boots on for a while."

"Cthugha." Kuro hadn't yet reached for his light, too preoccupied by the dull ache blossoming in his head to think about doing so just yet. "I do care. Fer God's sake, I care."

"Stop."

"Why would I make y'coffee 'n' food 'n' let y'stay in my damn house if I didn't care? Why would I wanna help you after the crazy shit y've said if I didn't care?"

"He stayed at your house?" he heard Rigsby ask, voice more than a little muffled by the thick layer of dirt between them. Both men winced, and the conversation died a pitiful death then and there.

"Forget it…" Kuro whispered. "Y'can think what y'like. I know how I feel. Now ain't the time." Keen to move on, Kuro plucked his torch from his belt and shone it ahead of him. For a few moments, it was deathly quiet. "... what the fuck?"

"I know, right?"

He watched the sheriff turn in a slow circle, his light shone everywhere- and then he fell still, seemingly transfixed by something in the uppermost corner. Beneath his breath, after muttering something soft in his native tongue: "Christ… Christ, Cthu."

At a crawling pace, Cthugha turned around, his torch shone in the same direction.

Horns.

Horns everywhere.

They stuck out from the walls like macabre mantel decorations. Some looked older, more weathered, while others looked new, but they all glinted in the flashlight's sickly glow, as if they'd been polished off with cleaning products. Garnished with bleach, as it were.

"... hell." It was all the rifter could think to say - and Kuro didn't refute it.

"Y'said there was nothin' here!"

"I wasn't focusing…" he admitted quietly.

"Dear Raku. There's a whole mix here. Male, female, old, new…" His voice trailed off, his light painting a yellow line ahead as he slowly shone from one end of the wall to the other, assessing how many there were in total. They seemed to be in pairs, though it would require proper analysis back at the station. "D'y'know what this means?"

"One of them could be Mia's," Cthugha murmured, pausing when he felt Kuro's hands grip both of his shoulders. He cringed, almost bared his teeth, but the stone-cold look in his eyes froze him solid.

"It means we're dealin' with a serial killer, Cthugha." The words were weighted rocks, Cthugha's mind a pliant pool that was all too easy to sink in. The implications unsettled him. The more he thought about how perfect Huron seemed, the creepier everything began to feel. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so fearless- felt as if the horns had been bugged with tiny cameras, dozens of little artifical eyes watching him keenly. "D'y'know the last time we had a huro serial killer?"

"... no."

"I've never dealt with one personally. 'n' I've been Sheriff fer three centuries. An officer even longer."

"Hold on- how do you know they're a huro?"

"They're a huro," Kuro insisted, his voice a low cursory hiss as he jabbed his light at the wall. The hand still cemented to Cthugha's shoulder squeezed persuasively. "Look around. No bodies. I highly doubt, if there were bodies, they'd have any qualms about just storin' 'em here too. 'shidden. Secluded. They were already dumpin' horns here, 'n' they got several beams'a fuckin' wood down here without bein' noticed, why not bodies? Makes sense. They know how t'dispose of our dead. It's a huro."

"It could've just… been too risky for them?" Cthugha said meekly, feeling Kuro's urgency beginning to leak into him. He'd never been moved by a crime scene before. Never. "Some wood ya can explain but a body?"

"No." Kuro shook his head quickly, his hands following suit. Just because he hadn't dealt with a serial killer personally before didn't mean he wasn't educated. He'd spent years sprawling over criminology papers, over case files from solved cases, soaking up information like he was some sort of sponge. He knew how a lot of them functioned, the kinds of things they thought and wanted from their crimes. He highly doubted that transporting a body by nightfall- especially in a sleepy little community like theirs, where nobody thought to monitor their surroundings, where nobody thought to lock their doors- would've been too much trouble if they'd wanted to do it. That was part of the appeal to some murderers: the exhilaration that only the fear of being caught could bring them.

The rifter felt as if his brain was loose in his head, being rattled around like a rodent in a box. It was that that had him raising his hands, locking them tightly around Kuro's wrists, attempting to push him away.

"... you're hurting me," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

Before he felt the pressure of Kuro's grip alleviate, he felt it go frigid first. It was as if Cthugha had reached inside of him and pulled a plug, draining all of the tenacity in him like bathwater. When he was released, his shoulders felt strangely bare. He rolled the one that had been touched the longest, feeding his compulsive need to rid himself of that phantom warmth.

"... sorry," Kuro muttered, his voice shallow, as if he'd awoken from a trance all too quickly. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"Look." The air was already tense. Cthugha's tactical pause only emphasised it, made it vibrate with painful obviousness. "... if I say I forgive ya, will ya stop fucking apologising? Seriously. I think this timeline might collapse if ya say 'sorry' one more time."

The sheriff let out a short, curt laugh as he looked away. It tasted of hysteria. "... full disclosure? Probably not. I often feel like I gotta apologise." He cast a look at the rifter out of the corner of his eye, cautious but longing. How strange, feeling a sense of closure in a literal tomb. "... but it might make me feel a tad better about everythin'."

"Then whatever. I forgive you," Cthugha assured, nodding firmly. "We're close, Kuro. I can feel it. I forgive you - because it's coming to an end, and in spite of everything that happened? I couldn't have done this without you, or your team. I'm… man enough to admit that. For better or for worse."

Sheriff Braav held his gaze for as long as his odd partner allowed - then flashed a rare smile, one so mellow and golden that angels would have envied him. "Means a lot t'me," he said candidly, before recalling that he was in a pit for the dead. The prematurely dead. "...but y'know, we don't know if this has anythin' t'do with Mia yet. Maybe yer bein' a li'l optimistic."

"Mm. Maybe. But I feel it." His head tilted upwards, eyes settling on the row of horns again. They stared indifferently back at him, pointed edges dulled with time. That's the beauty of me. I can wear anything down. "... and that's a hell of a lot of trophies to sift through."

[ryuukia]

[Translation] SolidS Drama Vol.6 “Dear brother” Track 1

I was supposed to post this last week, but things happened (even in quarantine I end up being busy). Finally, here’s the first track from SolidS’ 6th drama CD. Many thanks to Ryota and Chrome for helping me proof this.

Please don’t repost/retranslate/reuse my translations. Likes and reblogs are appreciated.

If you like my work and you want to support me, you can now buy me a coffee by clicking right [here]. I also started taking commissions, more details are right [here]. Thank you~

Track 1: Showing up unannounced

Dai: I’m back.

Rikka: Welcome back. Good job with the running.

Dai: You say that, but you went running with me, remember?

Rikka: I was just congratulating the both of us, you know?

Dai: Really? Yourself included? That’s fine, then.

Rikka: Eh? What do you mean by that?

Dai: You sort of forget to congratulate yourself for things you did. It’s pretty important, you know? Since you kinda have low self-esteem.

Rikka: You're pretty sharp sometimes, aren't you, Dai?

Dai: ‘Sometimes’ is an exaggeration. Anyway, it’s time to start the cool-down stretching.

Rikka: Okay. I do plan on being more congratulatory of my efforts, you know? Otherwise, it’d be so rude for the people who believe in me.

Dai: Sounds like a plan.

Rikka: If I ever say something bad about myself, feel free to scold me, Dai.

Dai: I think you’ll notice it and reflect on it on your own before I’m able to do that.

Rikka: Uhm… I guess you might be right.

Dai: Well, if that happens, I’ll make sure to bring you a cup of coffee.

Rikka: Really? I’m glad. In case I get depressed, that’ll help motivate me~

Dai: You’re pretty simple.

Rikka: That’s just how much I enjoy it. You’ve gotten pretty good at making coffee, you know? I always look forward to sharing some with you.

Dai: That’s thanks to Shiki who helped me out back when I had a job involving coffee. Also, I think it’s time for Tsubasa to wake up.

Rikka: I’d say it’s still early. Tsubasa said he doesn’t have any jobs planned for today either.

Dai: He mentioned something about his thesis. Plus, he’s had a lot of TV appearances, so his days and nights aren’t free. It’s looking pretty bad lately.

Rikka: I see. That sounds like a tough time. Now I see why you suddenly stopped by the bakery.

Dai: Not really. That shop is well-known for having tasty products and since it was close by, I took up the chance.

Rikka: Sure, sure. Took up the chance, huh. Then I have to get to work and prepare Tsubasa a delicious breakfast to show him my support. 

Dai: Why are you laughing?

Rikka: Dai really cares for his Nii-chan, huh~

Dai: I don’t.

Rikka: Sure, sure.

Dai: Stop it with your ‘sure, sure’. Hey, Rikka!

Rikka: Eh? There’s nobody here.

Dai: Can’t be helped. I’ll wake Tsubasa up.

Rikka: Okay, please do. In the meanwhile, I’ll prepare the breakfas-

Dai: -yelps-

Rikka: What? Did something happen?

Dai: Shiki… you scared me. What are you doing here?

Shiki: … Dai? … Morning.

Dai: Good morning. My bad, I didn’t think you’d be there and stepped on your foot.

Rikka: Did you fall asleep on the floor, by any chance? That’s not good, Shiki. What if you catch a cold?

Shiki: I wasn’t sleeping…

Rikka: Then why were you on the floor?

Shiki: I can’t do it…

Rikka: You can’t do what?

Shiki: The song.

Dai: What, a song?

Shiki: I don’t have even one idea for this song. I can’t think of anything.

Tsubasa: Oh~! Delicious! This bread is hella tasty!

Rikka: Help yourself with more.

Tsubasa: Yahoo! So, the great composer Takamura Shiki can’t write a song?

Dai: Seems so.

Tsubasa: Seriously, if this keeps up, Darling’s going to embarrass himself in front of Fumi-chan.

Shiki: Sigh.

Tsubasa: Eh? What was that? Shiki, did something happen?

Shiki: Sigh.

Tsubasa: Eh? Wait, wait. C’mon, don’t you have to tell me anything? Let’s hear you say honey, or honey, or honey?

Shiki: -mumbling- It won’t work like this. I need more… impact or something. And shalala's, maybe...?

Tsubasa: Hey?? ...Shiki? Earth to Shiki?

Shiki: I’m here. Maybe a key change halfway to the hook... No, not that.

Tsubasa: He looks like he’s listening to me, but he’s really not!!

Dai: But don’t you think his spacing out is sort of different from usual…? Doesn’t this look pretty serious?

Rikka: It does. Sure, Shiki is always busy, but not because his workload is packed.

Tsubasa: Now that you mention it, you’re right. It’s not unusual for him to be overwhelmed and feel sick because of the deadlines of the jobs he takes on, but...

Dai: I think it’s my first time hearing him say “I can’t write.”

Rikka: Speaking of which, it did happen once in the past. I got a call from him in the middle of the night saying “Just say something, anything works.”

Tsubasa: What’s with that vague request? 

Rikka: I’d have rather taken “I need you to give me some ideas.” over that.

Tsubasa: Why are you so troubled about this now, huh? Hey, Shiki?

Shiki: Hm? What?

Tsubasa: Don’t give me that. Tell us in detail where and how you got stuck. Don’t try to take this all on by yourself.

Shiki: Sigh.

Tsubasa: Stop it with those sighs, your happiness is going to escape! If you don’t have any inspiration, then we can think of something together.

Rikka: Ah, that’s a good idea. Shu told me once that he used QUELL’s opinions to write songs before. 

Tsubasa: Exactly! Kinda like that!

Dai: Eh? I guess coming up with songs that way is fine once in a while.

Shiki: If this were a SolidS song, it would have been indeed fine…

Dai: What kind of song are you working on right now?

Shiki: A collaboration CM song for a girls idol group.

Tsubasa: Oohh, you. Meant. That. kind. of . song. Geez… If you’re in a slump, make a SolidS song instead!

Shiki: Sorry…

-Shiki gets up-

Tsubasa: No, uhm, ... you don’t need to apologize like that...

Shiki: -gets on the sofa- Mmmmmmmmgh.

Tsubasa: Tche? Don’t be so down, man! Also, a grown-up man curling up into a ball while hugging a cushion is not cute at all!

Dai: Isn’t this kind of looking really bad though? If you back out at the last minute, it’ll mean trouble for many people involved.

Rikka: You’re right. It would be nice if he can get over it quickly, but… If it’s so bad that he’s getting sick over it, maybe quitting now would be better.

Tsubasa: Alright! Let’s talk with Fumi-chan first. Let’s go talk to him as soon as we can.

-Tsubasa calls Haiduki-

Tsubasa: Ah, hello, Fumi-chan? Morning. You see, there’s something I want to talk abo-... Eh? If I’m done checking the interviews? Gh, this is bad. I’ll check them later… for now I have some classes! Sorry. Er, so that aside, there’s something important I have to talk to you about… Eeh? You’re wrong, I’m not lying! I’m not! I’ll really work on them! Please, listen to me!

Dai: I should have called him instead.

Rikka: -laughs awkwardly-

Haiduki: Alright… This is looking bad, huh. Who’d have thought that Shiki would be in a slump this far into the job. Just when the deal with the railway company has progressed smoothly, too. Good grief. We have one trouble after another. Well, I guess that’s why they say management work is interesting, huh. Oh?

Keito: Let’s see… I wonder if this is the place… But the entrance is…

Haiduki: Hello, excuse me. I can offer you my help if it’s something related to this area. What seems to be the problem?

Keito: Thank you very much. I’ve been looking for this address and I think it might be this building, but it’s my first time here so I’m a bit worried I might have gotten it wrong.

Haiduki: Hm? Ah, may I ask you where you got this from?

Keito: It’s my older brother’s current address.

Haiduki: Brother?

Keito: Are you by any chance a Tsukipro employee? My name is Takamura Keito. That’s right, the business card…

Haiduki: By Takamura you mean…

Keito: I’m Takamura Shiki’s actual brother. Here’s my business card.

Haiduki: Ah, thank you very much for showing me.

Keito: And here’s a photo from when my brother returned home two years ago. And also this one, I’m next to him in the photo. 

Haiduki: Shiki seems to be sleeping.

Keito: My brother barely comes back home, but when he does, he ends up sleeping like a log most of the time.

Haiduki: What’s that on top of him?

Keito: It’s our cat, Sasuke. He’s about 20 years old, but considering how old he looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gained some sort of mystical powers at one point. He seems to like sleeping on my brother’s waist when he’s asleep.

Haiduki: -mumbling- I’ll be getting these pictures later...

Keito: Eh?

Haiduki: Nothing, I apologize. Thank you for the support. I’m Shiki’s…I mean SolidS’ and your brother’s manager. My name is Haiduki Fumihiko. 

Keito: My brother’s manager? I apologize. I suppose seeing me wander around raised suspicions. I heard from my brother that the security is strict because the dorm is exclusively for talents, but this is my first time coming to one.

Haiduki: Not at all, I should be the one apologizing.

Keito: Don’t mention it. I know I should have announced my arrival beforehand, but I happened to come here due to a sudden trip.

Haiduki: I see. Business related?

Keito: Yes. I thought that I would come and catch up with him since it’s been a while, but he hasn’t been answering the phone since yesterday even though we’ve been in contact days before. Excuse me, is my brother at the dorms today?

[arianadevareux]

Let me start off by saying I love that you and more people now are actually writing for Willy Wonka, I love his character. I see more of depps version and that’s fine cause I love him, but more of wilder would be nice too (although for me, I feel more comfortable with depps version cause he’s younger). It makes me happy seeing more of him around in general though :)

Wattpad has a few good ones, but a lot of them really aren’t that great? Idk why, but Wattpad is always that one fanfiction site where sometimes it’s just not that good. Is that just me? Maybe I’m just picky with how people write.

And for fanfiction.net, there are plenty of good ones that I genuinely liked, BUT I had avoided so damn many too for Willy Wonka. Why? Cause there were a lot of shippings of him and Charlie and it just. God, why people?? Some made Charlie aged up, I mean aging someone up isn’t the worst thing? It feels slightly off, but at least they didn’t let him stay a child in the fic. Some took Charlie out and made an older woman take his place. That’s fine, I’ve seen a couple of those. There was one though where I swear they were like “oh Charlie’s 17 here” NO! That’s underage!! And then there was a freaking nother one with Veruca and she was clearly still a child!! God I hated that people actually thought that was ok to write! 😡 So, I’m glad there’s people like you that don’t do that. Thank you for that. Sometimes I lose faith in humanity when people write crap like that, not just Willy Wonka, but plenty of other fandoms pull this crap too. Sorry for that rant at the end, I just wanted to thank you for not being one of those writers. I care a lot about children and I just find it sad some people write that kind of stuff in anything

Thanks! I am as well. Also, fair about the preference. Nothing wrong with that at all.

I haven’t really explored Wattpad much. I had a friend that published something on there that I read, but other than that I don’t really mess with it. Is it still set up to where you have to log in to read past a certain point? Such a pain.

I like FF because of its setup. It’s so much easier to find which character(s) you want than AO3. More content on AO3, but it’s harder to navigate to me. Oh dear god, no. In this house, we do NOT support that at all. Charlie is a child and doesn’t progress in canon beyond that. Aging up is... eh. To me, tbh, it’s still icky. I’m not a fan of it. I kinda have the same issue with it that I do with an adult irl getting with someone they knew as a child. Like, they were an adult while the kid was a kid and then they get together when the kid is legal. Do you know what I mean? At some point, they were attracted to that person and it’s damn near impossible to think that it wasn’t while they were still a child. I see a lot of underage pairings with adults in so many different fandoms. It’s really disconcerting.  I’m hoping that it’s teens themselves posting it because then I kinda get it. Teenage me was super attracted to adults. Still, like, oh no baby WHAT is you doin? But not nearly as icky as an adult writing something like that.

I encountered this guy in the wild who would explicit things between adults and children. and he was damn proud of it. Myself and one other had a huge problem with it (and ended up leaving the server he was in) because most people thought it was fine. One person even said, “I don’t mind underage content. I like it.” YOU. ARE. AN. ADULT. Tbh write about kids being kids and if it leads to some cute stuff, fine. Whatever. But pairing an adult with a child? Hard no. That’s grooming no matter how you want to frame it.

No need to apologize! I can clearly rant about it as well. Seeing how prevalent it is really makes me worried about how many folks are just one step away from being inappropriate toward a real child. Certainly fiction wouldn’t be enough at some point, and they’d want the real thing.

[wordsmith-by-night]

First Kiss

Attack on Titan One-Shot Characters: Hanji Zoe x F!OC Word Count: 2,191 Spoilers: Not really? Triggers: None I can think of The best place to sleep was always out in the grass, beneath a tree. Or so Shelley decided after a long overnight training. People used to think she was crazy for training at night. Titans weren’t active when the sun went down, but her other senses became better when the darkness crept in. She felt more confident with her gear because she honed her other senses. Of course, Hanji had seen her potential long ago and now Shelley was constantly trying to improve their gear. Another reason for nightly trainings.

“Eh, Hanji,” Levi broke the midday silence as he and the brown-haired section commander neared Shelley. “Wasn’t she sleeping under a table the other day?” Hanji followed the man’s gaze, unable to stop her slight laugh at the sight of Shelley sleeping in the partial shade. “It helps her sleep.” Most of the Scouts were known to have their quirks and rather large personalities, but Hanji found Shelley’s sleeping patterns curious. She couldn’t help but ask the cadet why she slept in random places—under trees, under tables, on the floor next to her bed, under a log fort. Shelley confessed it helped with her nightmares, with the memories of her first expeditions and watching so many of her friends get eaten by the titans. Levi let out a sigh and shook his head. He poked the sleeping woman with the tip of his boot, nudging her a few times until she stirred from her sleep. Her blue eyes stared back at the two before recognition struck. She scrambled to her feet. “C-Captain. Section commander,” she stuttered out, bringing a balled hand to her chest and the other to her back in a salute. “Sleeping on the job again, huh?” Hanji teased, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” Shelley stared at the other woman, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. Her mind registered the joke, but it failed to give her an adequate response. “I helped fix Jean’s gear, and did some training with Moblit,” she reported. “How is testing the new gear?” Levi asked. “Still waiting on a new part to keep the anchors from snapping,” she explained. “But I think the modifications to the original may work. I did some testing last night and it held. It limits the movement a little more than I like but…” she rolled her shoulders into a shrug, “It works.” Levi hummed with a small nod. Most of them used their gear in a similar fashion—straight forward, no frills, no tricks. But he and Mikasa tended to push theirs harder than others, because they could. They weren’t the best for nothing. Shelley, however, had her own style entirely. As a recruit, she nearly failed, until she tampered with her gear to make it more flexible. When it was discovered, instead of kicking her out, Hanji saw her worth and convinced Erwin to keep her on. He offered it to Shelley, with the warning that she would be a scout and, most likely, die. She blurted out yes so fast she almost questioned if she should have thought about it instead. But she was happy with the Scouts. And happy to be trusted by Hanji. “I can show you if you want,” she said. “That’s Hanji’s job,” Levi muttered. He started walking. “I have to check on the cleaning crew.” A grin spread across Hanji’s lips. She wrapped an arm around Shelley’s shoulders and pulled the other woman’s body close to hers, feeling the extra warmth the sun had given. “Looks like it’s just us,” she said with an oddly dark laugh. She turned them both around to head to the training ground. Shelley swore she could feel Hanji’s body shaking with excitement. “Has anyone else seen?” Shelley shook her head. “I don’t want people expecting them to work. Plus, the more work I do, the more temperamental they get. I don’t think these will do for mass use.” She didn’t notice the twinkle in her section commander’s eyes. “It’ll be our secret together!” Hanji exclaimed with all too much enthusiasm. “Ah. N-No. That’s…” “Aaaaah! I always knew I was your favorite! Wait until Moblit finds out! He’ll have to step it up to keep my attention.” Shelley couldn’t stop her giggle at the other woman’s excitement at some made up scenario. “I think he’ll be happy to have the break.” “What? No! He loves it. It’s his way of keeping control. ‘Hanji you’re working them too hard’. ‘Section commander, you’re being too loud’,” Hanji snickered. “What would he do if I behaved myself?” “Sleep,” Shelley joked. It only reminded her of how tired she was herself. After the fall of wall Maria, all of her nightmares resurfaced. If she wasn’t pushing her nightly trainings, she was tossing and turning in restless sleep despite her trick of finding a new sleeping spot. “Hey uh…” Hanji started; her tone more serious than usual. “You’re taking care of yourself, right?” Shelley looked to the woman as they entered the wooded training grounds and stopped walking. She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she lied. Hanji kept her eyes locked onto the woman’s. Levi had the kind of look that alerted people he could see through them, and he would call it out, but Hanji’s was more subtle. She could see the light in those blue eyes dimmed by sleep deprivation, feel a new leanness to the woman’s body, and see how her face slimmed some. It made her worry, and not in the way she did for everyone else. Hanji wanted to protect the woman. She tried to play it off as if she just saw herself in Shelley, but if she decided to be honest, it was something more. But a section commander with a cadet? And one from her own squad nonetheless? That wouldn’t end well… Hanji pushed the thoughts away and forced a carefree smile as well. She clasped her hands behind her head and glanced over the training field. “Well,” she started. “Show me your progress.” Shelley nodded with a small smile perched on her lips. Training with her gear was true freedom. In battle, there were dangers to worry about, but in the trees of the training ground, it was just her and her gear. From the moment the anchors hooked into a tree and she was pulled from the ground by the metal reel, she felt carefree. The gear became an extension of her body. She could feel the weight of the gas and so it became intuitive when it grew too low. When the wind kicked in, she knew just how much to push the speed and how to use her muscles to counteract it. Her original gear kept her movements linear, but her modifications continued to loosen up that movement. It wasn’t cleared for battle yet, but she hoped soon. As did Levi and Hanji. Hanji assumed it would help with long-term titan captures, the most dangerous of all the missions. Then again, she wondered if anyone else would be able to use it. Shelley had a way with the gear, like a dancer in the air. It was a different sort of mastery than Mikasa or Levi had. And just watching brought a smile to Hanji’s lips. Shelley had completely forgotten about Hanji’s presence as she flipped off from the trunk of a tree. She fired the anchors, feeling the pull as the coils retracted once attached to their mark. Something didn’t feel right. It felt like a snag, a small catch in something. Her feet landed against the new trunk, facing the same tree she had just launched from. The snag hadn’t been there last night. She fired the anchors again, knowing it was time to reinspect the gear. She pushed off from the tree, pulled again by the coils. Instead of the snag she anticipated, she felt a sudden loss. Her body began to shift to the side. Eyes widening, she realized that the right-side wire snapped entirely. She retracted the other anchor but it was too late. It only took seconds for her to slam into the trunk at an awkward angle. Pain radiated through her side and chest, but the sharpest of it came from her hip. Hanji’s eyes widened when she realized what was going on. The ODM gears weren’t without problems to begin with, but modifying them only amplified the possibilities of failure. They all knew the danger. Her heart caught in her throat as she realized the free fall the other woman was caught in without her gear. Hanji’s body kicked into action, pushing her forward and closing the distance. Shelley’s body tensed in anticipation of the solid ground. She watched as the tree seemed to grow before her eyes, knowing she could roll over and watch the ground instead. But that seemed a more dreadful sight. She closed her eyes, bracing for the impact. Something warm wrapped around her. She landed on something much softer than she expected. Her hip screamed in pain, blocking out the sound of a grunt. She opened her eyes, still dazed by the lack of added pain, before realizing why it had been a softer landing. “Hanji!” she exclaimed. She scrambled off of the other woman, ignoring the objection from her hip. Hanji pushed herself up, gasping to catch her breath. “Are you okay?” Shelley asked, eying the other woman for signs of serious injury. Hanji nodded. “You need to go to the infirmary,” she countered. Shelley shook her head, though she knew it to be true. She feared a fractured hip—or worse—which would keep her bedridden for a while. She wanted to know what happened before that came to be. Trying not to wince, she went to remove her gear. “You hit the tree hard,” Hanji pointed out. She ignored her own soreness. Catching someone mid-air was much easier than on the ground; her right ankle was sprained for sure. Maybe that was the trademark of a true Scout—better in the air than on the ground. Shelley’s blue eyes met Hanji’s brown. “You do too,” she insisted, but her hands were already fumbling with a small tool kit she always kept with her. “But… I need to know,” she looked down at her gear, “what happened first.” Hanji watched the woman’s fingers nimbly start taking apart the gear. If there was one thing Hanji knew, it was passion. Everyone knew her for being too excited by titans, too dedicated to understanding them. But now, watching those hands so expertly tearing metal pieces apart, she just wanted to hold them. And seeing that same passionate determination in the other woman’s face that she herself knew too well made her want to break boundaries she knew she shouldn’t. “Ah…” Shelley muttered. She stared down at the culprit. One of the holding clips had worn. As it attempted to hold and release, it wore down the wire until it had snapped. An easy fix, but it meant waiting on parts. Maybe they’d be in by the time her hip healed… She went to pull out the cut metal when Hanji grabbed her hand. Shelley’s attention snapped to her commanding officer. The brunette stared at Shelley with a soft look. Shelley found her heart racing. “Ha-Hanji?” she asked. She wondered if the fall had hurt her more than they thought, but the back of her mind told her something else was happening. Hanji’s free hand went to Shelley’s cheek as she leaned closer. Their lives were too short to worry about boundaries. She pressed her lips to Shelley’s, being careful to not give into her usual excitement. Not only had the woman slammed full force into a tree, but Hanji really knew little about her… Shelley froze with the feeling of Hanji’s lips. Had she hit her head? This wasn’t allowed. Hanji was section commander, after all. Besides, Shelley came from a respectable family. She was expected to marry a good man—preferably from the interior. But then, she was also supposed to follow her sister’s footsteps and join the Military Police, not the degenerate Scouts, as her parents put it. Hanji broke the kiss. “Wait,” Shelley whispered. Hanji paused. Shelley stared at the other woman. Expectations be damned. A sadness formed at the thought of rejecting her commander, at ignoring the flutter in her heart whenever Hanji was excited for or proud of her. She shifted, ignoring her hip, and put her lips back to Hanji’s. Hanji returned the affection without hesitation. The worry of titans, the stress of their role for humanity, the fear of inevitable losses, all slipped away for just the few minutes of their kiss. “I’m glad Levi didn’t come,” Hanji said, grinning as she so often did. “He’ll know,” Shelley responded. Hanji frowned. “I’m sure he already knows. He reads you like a book.” Hanji pouted a moment before grinning again. “I guess it’s fair. I know his secret too.” Shelley watched Hanji. Hanji got to her feet, favoring her right ankle. “Now, let’s get you to the infirmary.”

[ghost-nabbers-imagines]

🖱Penpal: Sal x reader

So this will be written as you would see it on your computer. Basically you and Sal are penpals online on like AOL or something. You guys are still talking in between these dates obviously but I thought it would be better to show the progression of the relationship overtime.

4/06/1998

12:15 PM

Maskedbassist has logged on.

(Username) has logged on.

(Username): Hi maskedbassist! I was matched with you on that penpal website.

Maskedbassist: Hey,well nice to meet you.

Maskedbassist: I mean sort of. Nice to meet you digitally i guess.

(Username): lol :P ur funny. Can I ask about your username?

Maskedbassist: sure, well the bassist part is because I play bass.

(Username): C00l! and the masked part (0.0)?

Maskedbassist: well I'd like to say it's just because it sounded cool. But actually its because I have to wear a prosthetic. My face is pretty messed up.

Username: damn sorry to hear that :( bet it looks cool as hell tho

Maskedbassist: lol I guess

Username: kinda like a slipknot

Maskedbassist: Hell yeah, that's what my friend Larry says

(Username): Larry sounds c00l

Maskedbassist: he's the c00lest, hes actually about to be my step brother. My dad is marrying his mom

(Username): that's so gr8!

Maskedbassist: so what do you like to do for fun

(Username): oh I do a little (hobby 1) and I'm also learning (hobby 2). Hbu?

Maskedbassist: sweet! I like to play guitar and find ghosts

(Username): ghosts?

Maskedbassist: yeah our apartment complex is full of em

(Username): woah that's c00l! Ur like an irl Ghostbuster!

Maskedbassit: totally!

Maskedbassist: hey, so I really like talking 2 u but I gotta go for the night :( wanna talk 2morrow?

(Username): that would be g8!

Maskedbassist: c u then!

(Username): bye :p

Maskedbassist has logged off.

Username has logged off.

8/02/1998

3:30 PM

Maskedbassist has logged on.

(Username) has logged on.

(Username): Hey Sal!

Maskedbassist: hey (y/n)!

(Username): how was back to school shopping with Lisa?

Maskedbassist: it was nice she helped me pick up some cool stuff. You looking forward to school starting?

(Usernmame): eh more or less. U?

Maskedbassist: not rly. Kinda wish you went to my school. It'd b gr8 getting to talk with u irl

(Username): ikr! Maybe I could come visit next summer?

Maskedbassist: OMG :D THAT WOULD BE EPIC

(Username): lolz I'll talk to my parents 2nite about that. I'm sure they wouldn't mind.

Maskedbassist: even if I'm a stranger u met online...

(Username): u dont feel like a stranger anymore. Besides I've told them all about you. Plus you sent me that pic of u, So they know what u look like.

Maskedbassist: I'm so excited now! Plz msg me asap when u find out!

(Username): Definitely! G2G eat, talk l8r?

Maskedbassist: yeah! Byeee!

(Username): bye Sal!

Maskedbassist has logged off.

(Username) has logged off.

12/25/1998

6:15 PM

Maskedbassist has logged on.

(Username) has logged on.

Maskedbassist: Merry Christmas bb <3!

(Username): Merry Christmas babe <3!

Maskedsinger: you haven't opened it yet right?

(Username): nope I waited! U ready???

Maskedbassist: hell yeah!

(Username): oh Sal I love the bracelet! Do u have the other half?

Maskedbassist: yep! Glad you like it <3 I LOVE the guitar pics! And the strap! It's so cute it has little drawings all over it! I cant believe u remembered I needed 1.

(Username): I'm so happy you like it XOXO

Maskedbassist: XOXO

(Username): oh wait theres more? Sheet music and a drive?

Maskedbassist: Plug the drive in.

(Username): OMG Sal u wrote me a song???

Maskedbassist: do you like it?

(Username): are you kidding?? I'm crying thank you!

Maskedbassist: thank you babe, ur the best present I've ever gotten.

(Username): seriously stop I'm crying already! I can't wait to hug you this summer! :,)

Maskedbassist: XOXO <3<3<3

Maskedbassist: Lisa is calling me for dinner :p talk 2morrow?

(Username): Goodnight Sal <3 XO

Maskedbassist: Goodnight baby XO <3

12/31/1989

11:58 PM

Maskedbassist has logged on.

(Username) has logged on.

Maskedbassist: hey babe!

(Username): hey Sal! Excited for the new year?

Maskedbassist: just because it's one month closer to when I see you

(Username): me too! I cant wait for summer!

Maskedbassist: ill finally get to hug you irl

(Username): yay! <3

Maskedbassist: 1 minute away from 99!

(Username): too bad we cant kiss at midnight :(

Maskedbassist: well just have to do it on here till we can kiss in person!

(Username): they started the countdown

Maskedbassist: 5

(Username): 4

Maskedbassist: 3

(Username): 2

Maskedbassist: 1

(Username): happy new year <3 XOXO

Maskedbassist: *short video of him blowing a kiss*

Well it wasn't the longest one ever but I hope you liked it, it was definitely fun to write!

~Lex💛

[elapsed-spiral]

Mark Means Business - First Chapter! (M/M gay comedy “romance” novel)

I may have already mentioned(!) but I wrote a book! Here’s the first chapter for anyone interested in checking it out. Warnings for explicit language and content (in ch 2). If you like what you read, search for “Mark Means Business” on Amazon to read chapter two for free as well! 

If you’re a fan of funny but awful characters and shows like It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, Black Books and Bojack Horseman, Mark Means Business might be what you’re looking for. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Simon

(Wednesday Afternoon)

The crowd roars. 

The stage lights cook him until sweat is dripping off his clammy chin. 

Girls make desperate grabs at his legs, their make-up streaked from sobbing his name. 

He grabs the microphone stand, metal hot in his palm, opens his mouth and-

“Ground control to Geoff, come in Geoff.”

 “Who’s Geoff?” Simon looks up, his arms still buried in the rack of floral nightgowns.

“You are,” Leah says, “according to your name badge.”

“Oh, yeah, I left mine at home.”

“Least you’re not Ethel today.”

He makes a point of straightening the badge. Leah ignores him in favour of judging his progress tidying the nightgowns.

“You remember how to count, yeah?” she asks. “School’s not that long ago.”

“I got distracted.”

“You’re not winning employee of the month any time soon, Pratt.”

“Lucky they don’t have that here.” He yanks a few size 8s from the middle and shoves them to the front of the display. “S’your fault for showing me up.”

“It’d be pretty bloody stupid, slacking off when I’m gonna be a graduate manager.”

“See, this is why you went to uni, Leah.” He wags a rogue hanger for emphasis. “You’ve got that wisdom.”

“Cheek of you, giving your future boss lip.”

“Could we keep dating if you were my boss? Isn’t that like an abuse of power or something?”

“It’s Paul and Tompkins lingerie department Si, not the army. Reckon we’re fine.” She bats his arm away before he’s got it halfway around her waist, grabs the hanger and gives him a whack. “Back to work, slacker.”

“Yes boss.” He diligently reorders more nightgowns while she picks up a pair of stray knickers and slips them back in their pack. It’s not long before he feels his thoughts stray.

She shoots him a sidelong look. “What?”

“I was thinking about the gig.”

“Course you were. Tonight the night? Think any record labels will have caught wind of it?”

He gives the nightgowns an unnecessarily rough shove to make more room on the rail.

“A boy can dream.”

“Dream being the keyword.” She purses her lips like she’s tasted something sour. “Simon-”

“Oi, no negativity,” he says. “I’m all about visualising success nowadays. Visualise your goals and they’ll happen, right? That’s what New Age people do.”

“New Age people?” He knows he’s lost her from the way her words start dragging. 

“Yeah, like Madonna and that.” He follows her gaze and spots a leather jacketed figure across the aisle flicking squirrely looks around, arm clasped over a bulging shopping bag. Simon and Leah exchange a knowing look. 

“Think I’ll go and check if that customer needs any assistance,” Leah says. 

Simon sidles over to the thermal vests to keep in earshot, resisting the urge to turn and watch proceedings. 

“Can I help?” Simon clamps his mouth shut to keep from snorting at Leah’s sunny tone. 

“Yeah. Looking for some lingerie.” The stranger’s accent is Northern, though Simon’s clueless as to where. 

“For a special lady, I assume?” Leah asks a little mockingly. Simon disguises a laugh with a cough. 

“Let’s start with her,” the stranger says. “I can always come back for something skimpy for me next payday, eh Leah?” 

She gives a surprised laugh. “What sort of thing does she like?”

The stranger clicks his tongue in thought. “Red ‘n’ racy.”

“Paul and Tompkins’s probably not your best bet. We do have some nice silky sets in at the moment, though.” 

Simon shuffles further right as they head towards the silk and lace collection behind him. He hears the snick of hangers on a rail. 

“What size is she?” Leah asks. 

“I’d say about your size-”

Simon spins around before the words have left the stranger’s mouth. He registers waist length black hair and a battered leather jacket, boots and jeans, all in black. Sharp brown eyes narrow with amusement in a square face dominated by a Roman nose. After a quick glance at his name badge, the man returns Simon’s look keenly. 

“You alright, Geoff?” Roman Nose asks faux politely. 

Simon feels his nostrils flare. Leah looks ready to make a warning grab for his arm but he sidesteps her, stomping closer to the man. 

“What’s in your bag?” Roman Nose opens his mouth, evidently ready to bullshit, but Simon plows on. “You planning to buy that lot?” He jerks his head at the till bank. “Lemme show you where you can pay.”

“How kind.”

“Just an oversight, shoving it all in your bag like that, yeah?”

“Absolutely.” Roman Nose darts looks between Simon and Leah, grin growing. “Flirting with your girlfriend though? Totally intentional.”

Simon can’t track what happens next. Leah growls a protest as he launches himself at Roman Nose’s retreating back. Roman Nose’s boots squeak on the lino as he legs it to the back exit. Threatening to wind himself on a stand of night cream, Simon barrels after him, ignoring Leah’s warning yells and the gasps from old dears browsing the tights display. His knee starts twinging when he gets onto the rain soaked street, but he sets his teeth against the pain, spots a trail of abandoned thongs and follows them into Soho. 

He turns into a side street and sees Roman Nose in the distance, legs akimbo as he pounds down the pavement, splashing through puddles. 

“Oi!” Simon yells. Roman Nose accelerates. “Oi, crackhead! I’m talking to you!”

Simon sucks in a breath and imagines he’s tearing down a football pitch, ignoring how his polyester trousers chafe. Roman Nose leads them into an alleyway littered with abandoned pint glasses and cigarette butts. He closes the distance as Roman Nose staggers to a halt. 

The man offers him an unnervingly broad grin as he struggles for breath. “M’more of a whizz man, actually.”

Simon makes to charge at him when Roman Nose yanks a silky black bra out of his bag, winding his arm back as though ready to lob it. Simon instinctively flinches and Roman Nose starts laughing like a stalling, chuntering engine. 

“Well, that doesn’t bode well for the lovely Leah, does it?” Roman Nose asks. 

Simon stomps to a halt inches from the man, eyes threatening to cross with the proximity. “You fancy a slap?”

“Always,” Roman Nose says. The sour tang of unbrushed teeth and stale alcohol wafts hot on Simon’s face. He takes an instinctive step back but returns Roman Nose’s intent stare. “Anyone’d think you were having fun.”

His jaw clenches. “What?” 

“Nice being outside, in’t it, getting some air. Lovely and fresh after the rain too, really shifts the piss smell.” Roman Nose jerks his head towards the end of the alleyway. “You done much exploring in Soho? Heartily recommend checking out the girls off Brewer Street, they give great massages.” Simon can hear the air quotes. “Leah might give you a bollocking for that though, eh Si?”

The name makes his stomach twist. He thins his mouth to keep from asking how the man knows his name and looks at his bulging shopping bag instead. Roman Nose clutches the handles. 

“Think you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty, Si.” The man takes a few swaggering steps backwards down the alleyway. “Stay out any longer and your boss might reckon you’re slacking off. We can’t have that.”

“Who the fuck’re you?” 

Roman Nose’s eyes crease in apparent delight. 

“Me? I’m an absolute bastard. Anyway,” the man wafts a dismissive hand, “off you fuck, back to tidying nighties. I’m late for taking over the world. Toodle loo!” Roman Nose gives him a quick, puckered air kiss before spinning around and charging away. 

Simon catches himself before he can go pelting after him, glowering at the spot Roman Nose had occupied, while waiting for his heart to stop thudding. 

Swallowing against the dryness in his mouth, Simon blinks hard to try and clear his thoughts before retracing his steps. He stoops to collect each abandoned thong and bra he encounters, pointedly ignoring the baffled looks he gets from people on their fag breaks as he loops them over one wrist. 

When he reaches P&Ts, he turns and studies the street one last time before heading inside, forehead furrowed hard enough to risk bringing on a headache. He slopes over to the fitting rooms to grab some spare hangers and starts rehanging everything while events cycle in his head like an action replay. 

“Took your time. Burying the body?” 

He jumps despite himself, recovering quickly by plastering a smile on his face. Leah takes in the bras and pants hooked over his arm. 

“Was that everything he took?” she asks. 

“No, he legged it. He said some proper shit.” 

“What shit?”

Simon flounders, struck by how ridiculous their conversation will sound. “Just, shit. Total twat, definitely high.”

Leah takes the remaining underwear from his wrist and deftly hangs it. 

“Well you defended P&Ts’ honour and that’s what counts.”

“Getting employee of the month for that.” Simon thinks about going for a kiss but can readily imagine the telling off it’ll get him.

“If they had that here,” she says. “You’re due on tills y’know? I told Pauline you were having toilet troubles to buy you time.”

He grimaces. “Why’d you go with that and not stories of my heroics?”

“Cause I thought it was funny, Pratt,” she smirks as she struts away. “Like you thought that poem you wrote in the school toilets was funny: Leah Colman is properly fit, she’s got a great pair of double D-” She quickly jerks one bra up to chest height. 

“Oi, that was Ryan! You know I’m crap at lyrics.” 

She scoffs as she disappears into the thicket of bra stands. 

Simon feels the last of the adrenaline seeping out of his system as he sidles over to the tills. After returning Pauline’s sympathetic grimace, he logs himself onto one and lets his gaze settle on middle distance. Time moves in fits and starts, speeding up when customers materialise and slowing glacially when the shop floor empties. He mentally stacks his wages in ten pence increments as the minutes tick by, then stacks the pennies until they’re pounds, until he’s paid for his day’s tube travel. He imagines what he’ll spend the rest on: pints with Ryan, a nice meal with Leah, a day out in Southend. 

Roman Nose smirks, inches from his face. 

Simon shoves the thought aside in favour of imagining where he’ll be a year from now. He makes a concentrated effort to visualise some possibility that doesn’t involve singing to a packed Wembley Arena. As though in protest, his brain offers him the opposite: laid on a creeper under someone’s clapped out Ford Mondeo in his dad’s garage, straining to hear the radio over the sound of pneumatic tools. 

Roman Nose looks so smackably amused. Amused by Simon, by his polyester trousers, shirt and name badge. 

Like clockwork, Pauline’s ankles start swelling mid-afternoon so Simon offers to hold down the fort while she takes a walk around the department. He waits until she’s out of earshot before tapping rhythms on the counter edge. His brow knits as he drums, breath held in anticipation of crafting something new and novel. He hums along, fingers twitchy with excitement as he convinces himself he’s concocting something new, only to realise seconds later that he’s remembering a Heaven 17 tune. By the time Pauline’s returned, he’s back to daydreaming about sweating under spotlights, but the girls in the audience are laughing not cheering, their voices gravelly and chuntering. 

Leah does the honours of locking up when closing time finally arrives. Simon pulls off Geoff’s name badge and chucks it back in the spares box. He sits on the counter, swinging his feet while Leah diligently trots around the shop floor, locking tills, closing fitting rooms and bidding everyone a good evening. When she’s done, she collects him like he’s a dog tied up outside a corner shop and they grab their bags from the locker room. 

“D’you need to get your coursework done before the gig?” he asks.

“Nah, I’ve finished with assignments now.” She leads the way down Wardour Street, luckily avoiding the route he’d sprinted earlier.

“Doctor Colman.”

“It’s a Business Management undergrad degree Si, not quite.”

The nickname sends his thoughts back to wet alleyways and waist length hair. Leah gives him a look while they wait at the traffic lights on Shaftesbury Avenue. 

“You’ve got a face like thunder.”

Simon slaps on a smile. “Sorry, m’mind drifted.”

“You still thinking about that bloke?” 

He winces at the accuracy of her mind reading. “A bit, I guess. He was such a weirdo.”

“Must’ve been, to distract you from thinking about your gig. Sorry, I mean visualising it,” she corrects, playfully bumping her hip against his. 

He tries not to dwell on her choice of words - his gig, not their gig - knowing full well he doesn’t want to know her reasons. 

“I think I’ve seen him before,” she says, jolting him from his thoughts. 

“What, at P&Ts?”

“No, somewhere else.” Her face scrunches with thought before she huffs out a breath. “Can’t remember, bet it’ll come to me later.”

“Definitely got a face you’d remember. Face only a mother could love.” Leah makes to give Simon his customary peck goodbye at the ticket barrier. “Aren’t you coming back wimme to Barking?”

“No, I’ll meet you there,” she says. 

 “Why? If you’re done with studying, what’re you doing?”

“Packing, what else?”

“Didn’t your landlord agree that you could stay in your flat a little longer?” 

“No, they’ve already got a new tenant lined up so I’ve gotta be out by next Monday.”

“But your new flat isn’t available yet, where’re you gonna go?”

“I dunno yet. It’s only a week, I’ll stay in a hostel if I really have to. Me and Fiona are asking around on the scheme to see if anyone’s got a spare sofa.”

“That new landlord’s given you a right run-around,” he mutters. 

“Not a lot I can do about it, is there? I’ve already signed the lease.”

“You could end it and move back home, it’d save you some money.”

“You can’t just end it, that’s not how leases work.”

“Well, when it expires then.”

“I’ll be making way more money when I start on the scheme,” Leah says, “I don’t need to move back home. Hayley moved into my old room, anyway, she’d have a fit if I asked for it back.” 

“We’d get more time together if you moved back to Barking.”

“We’d get more time together if you moved in closer.”

“I can’t afford that, just working at P&Ts, my mum’d never let it drop.”

“So you need to come up with somewhere else to work, don’t you?” she says, tone getting tetchy. “Dream bigger or dream smaller, New Age Man.”

“Alright, alright, just don’t leave it too late, getting to Barking, we’re on at nine thirty.”

“I know, you’ve only said ten times today.”

“Sure you can’t just come now?”

“Simon, all I need to do is have a shower and slap some make up on. It’s not like I need to practice, I barely do anything, you’re the one doing all the singing and playing.”

“Not all of it.”

“Most of it. I better get going, I’ll see you later. Wear the gold suit, you haven’t worn it in a while.” 

Leah gives his hand a quick squeeze before heading for the Bakerloo platform.

“Yes boss,” Simon says, saluting her retreating back. 

He waits for the Upminster service to pull into the platform, drops onto a worn, lumpy seat and does his best to imagine the future, looking at the darkened window of the tube train like he’s crystal ball gazing. His own weary face stares blankly back.

[dreaming-translations]

[MAIN STORY] 3am, Inverted (Chapter 3)

chapter 3 of act I, part I of dream!ing’s second season ↓

A gunshot rang out.

Shigure: Ah—

Touji & Takaomi: !!

—— Pointed toward the ceiling, the gun’s muzzle went off in a spray of petals and colorful paint.

Male Student A: Hahaha! Oh man! I’m totally covered in pink!

Male Student B: With green and yellow petals on top! Hakka-senpai, this is great!

“We want more!” “Give us an even more exciting show!”

Paralyzed by the nightlife’s wild thrall, the students were charged up with a bizarre fervor. Some had even begun to dance, covered head-to-toe in paint.

Touji: Wha… Settle down, all of you…! Stop pushing me…!

Takaomi: They’re totally out of their minds. Out of the goddamn way…!

Taking advantage of the chaos, the masked man roughly shook himself free from Shigure’s arms and took off running.

Shigure: We musn’t let him get away. Shishimaru-kun, Harimiya-kun—!

Takaomi: Like I said, quit giving me orders!

Touji: We’ve managed to chase him this far. I shall see the moment the Heavens strike him down with my own eyes!

Touji: SECRET ART! SUPER LONG-DISTANCE SHOE CATAPULT—! (NAME CREDIT: NITO-KUN) (he literally says the parentheses here im dead)

Takaomi: HUH!?

Masked Man: —!

As he took Touji’s shoe right to the back of the head, the man’s fleeing footsteps faltered.

— Not a single eye in the room failed to notice that very moment.

Takaomi: Making us run around for no reason… You’d better remember to compensate us with a Live Ticket.

Shigure: I shall make sure of it. I swear on the Family’s name.

Touji: Accept your fate! You may hide your face with that mask, but you cannot hide your sins!

The three of them had him surrounded.

There was nowhere left for the masked man to run.

Shigure: I shall reveal your true identity.

Masked Man: ……

Shigure faced the man and took a step toward him — and just then.

As the quiet snap of the man’s fingers rang out, the floor beneath the three of them suddenly disappeared.

All 3: —!

With no way to resist the void that opened up ——

They fell deeper and deeper into the pitch darkness.

 ____________________________________________

Shigure: —— We will now begin our report on the “Illegal Dream World Organized by an Unknown Perpetrator”.

Mikage: Begiiin.

Hakka-san cast a cold gaze at me.

It seemed that my kindhearted attempt to lighten the suffocating atmosphere surrounding our three teachers wasn’t well-received. Bummer.

Shigure: Allow me to begin with a brief summary. If you log into the Yume System around 3:00 a.m., it is possible to enter this dream by inputting a specific operation code.

Saruwatari: Mhm, mhm. And?

Shigure:  Around the same time that students began summer vacation, an add-on for special app designed by Shinonome Gakuen that allows one to easily turn their smartphone into a Yume Mask began circulating.

Shigure: The ease of login combined with the students’ extended period of free time resulted in an explosive number of users joining the app craze.

Shigure: As we entered September and even up until present, the number of students logging in to this dream continues to increase.

Saruwatari: That’s wonderful!

Shigure: Eh…?

Saruwatari: I can see without a doubt that the developer is a brilliant person overflowing with curiosity, humor and entrepreneurial spirit! I can feel their passion.

Inoh: Should the acting chairman really be saying that...?

Saruwatari: Haha, sorry. I just couldn’t help getting worked up as I listened to that report.

Saruwatari: Certainly, it is a clear violation of the system’s fraud detection, but there’s something beautiful about it. Possessing such deep knowledge of the Yume System and using that knowledge so precisely, you can feel the attention to every evil detail, no?

Inoh: The work of someone familiar with the Yume System…

Inoh: —! … Don’t tell me this is your doing.

As he took a small jab from an elbow with a thwump, Kiritani-sensei furrowed his brow and looked carefully at the notebook laptop on his lap.

Kiritani: I’m analyzing the source code right now, but it’s encrypted so many times over you’d think they’re hiding the secrets to someone’s murder in there. What a pain in the ass.

Inoh: Don’t talk like that in front of your students. Always saying such things, it’s because you live such a lazy and undisciplined lifestyle that the culprit is looking down on us—

Turning toward Kiritani-sensei as he zoned out of Inoh’s scolding, I raised a finger and gave it a little wave.

Noticing the motion, Sensei sighed and let his gaze trail out the window.

Shigure: —Allow me to continue.

Shigure: The building’s exterior bears resemblance to the casinos in Las Vegas. Inside, there are various amusement areas on each floor.

Shigure: Just like a mobile game, players are given a common currency of play coins, and just by logging in every night, they can receive enough coins to keep playing throughout the entire night.

Shigure: And those who collect a large number of coins are granted access to the exclusive luxury VIP room on the top floor, where they can play even higher-stakes games.

Inoh: So it’s a system that makes you believe your worth is based on how much coin you possess.

Kiritani: Making people feel inferior even inside dreams, huh. Kids these days sure don’t have anything better to do.

Saruwatari: The dangerous point where dreams meet reality.

Shigure: This danger-filled dream has been hence nicknamed the “27club” (ninakurabu).

Shigure: Unfortunately, we failed to apprehend the suspicious figure last night, but the student council intends to continue its investigation to our fullest ability.

Mikage: Yes we dooo.

Saruwatari: We’re counting on you. If you make any progress in the investigation, however small, please tell me right away.

 TO BE CONTINUED

[rainforestgeek]

If you lose your strength to stand (I’m gonna reach for your hand) pt. 9 “Tell Me it’s Not for Nothing”

Part 8

AO3 link

--

The next morning Keith woke up from the deepest sleep he’d had in years. Light breath purred against his neck. Matt’s arm draped over his side and they lay pressed together back-to-chest. He was loathe to leave the warm bed, or disturb Matt, but Keith had things to do. He’d indulged in this comfort long enough.

He carefully extricated himself from the blankets, slipping out of Matt’s hold and into the cool ship air. He gathered his space suit and armor from the floor and started getting dressed.

Keith was strapping his blade to his belt when Matt stirred. He sat up and stretched. Keith indulgently took in his lithe, muscular torso and toned shoulders. It felt so good to be explicitly allowed to look. Especially with the memory of all that smooth skin under his hands. Matt grinned sleepily. “Hey.”

“Morning. You should get ready. It’s probably gonna be a long day.”

“So romantic.”

Keith’s face burned. He mentally scrambled for a response.

“Sorry, I’m just kidding.” Matt got up and gave Keith’s temple a gentle kiss before pulling on his pants.

Keith relaxed, relieved. Words returned to him. “I’m going to the dining hall. You should stay and eat breakfast here. I know Pidge’ll be happy to see you, too.” He made to leave.

“Wait, Keith.”

He stopped and turned back.

“Um.” Seeing Matthew Holt look uncertain was so bizarre. He kept looking from the floor to the ceiling and back to the floor.

Keith waited.

“Last night, I ran into Lance in the hallway. Is…should…you’ve known him for a while now. What kind of guy is he?”

Uh. Out of left fucking field. But then again, most questions came across to Keith that way. “In summary, he’s a dependable idiot.”

“What do you mean by idiot?”

“He pretends to be an asshole. It’s distracting when he flirts with girls on missions.”

“Has he ever flirted with Pidge?”

He thought for a second. “I don’t think so. Matt, if you’re worried about Lance playing Pidge or something, don’t. They’re close. He wouldn’t do that.” He hesitated, then, trying to be comforting, took Matt’s hand and squeezed it.

Matt’s eyes focused on him. He leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, lingering a moment. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith couldn’t understand why a simple kiss like that flustered him so much when they’d had sex just last night. He swallowed. “See you at breakfast.”

Out in the hallway he saw Lance in his street clothes standing in front of Pidge’s room. He didn’t do anything, just stared at the door with his hands deep in his pockets.

“What are you doing?”

Lance jumped. “Umnothingjust – ”

“Okay, wrong question. Why are you standing outside Pidge’s room instead of knocking like a normal person?”

“Are you really telling me what normal people do?” He glared at Keith, but there was no real heat in his voice. He started walking in the direction of the dining hall. “Whatever. I just…we’re dealing with so much stuff today and I don’t know if she’s still asleep and she’d rip my face off if I woke her up, so excuse me for being a tiny bit afraid of knocking.”

Keith fell into step with him. “Don’t worry about it. Coran will get Pidge out of bed.”

“Why are we still talking about Pidge?”

“Why are you talking about Pidge?”

“Because you are!”

“I’m not the one waiting outside her bedroom first thing in the morning.”

“You – !” All the blood rushed to Lance’s face and he huffed like an agitated dragon. Keith had almost forgotten how fun it was riling him up. And familiar. He couldn’t resist poking further.

“Did you need to tell her something in private? Something secret?”

“I CANNOT believe I actually missed you, you jerk!” Lance stormed off ahead.

You did? Keith thought.

That was weird hearing so directly from Lance. He knew Pidge and Hunk did, and obviously Shiro –

His fists clenched. Shiro wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for a long time. Keith physically restrained himself from punching something.

He never did see Pidge that morning. She wasn’t at breakfast, and she wasn’t at the tactical meeting with Emperor Lotor either. Coran and Lotor and the other paladins were on the bridge when he followed Matt inside, star maps projected through the air, but no sign of their smartest teammate. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Where’s Pidge?” Hunk asked.

“Sequestered in my rooms with the mice,” Allura said. “She is running analyses on data she gathered from the clone. She came to tell me earlier and I decided not to interrupt her progress.”

“Speaking of which. How the hell did a galra spy get on board the Castle?” Lance demanded.

Keith avoided eye contact when he replied. “I don’t get it. The Black Lion took me to him. She recognized him as Shiro.”

“Yeah. Can’t the Lions, like, see inside our souls?” Hunk asked. “Unless you can make an exact copy of somebody’s brain it doesn’t make sense. Wait, is that possible?”

“It’s irrelevant,” Allura said. “The Lions bond with our quintessence. The very fundamental energies of our lives.”

“So how do you copy quintessence?”

“You cannot. Not even the Druids are capable of such magic.” Lotor looked thoughtful. “Shiro spent time as a prisoner of the empire, yes? Fighting for entertainment?”

“What’s your point?” Matt said.

“He has a cyborg prosthetic arm, work of the Druids no doubt. Which means they must possess the original arm. It's probable they extracted its quintessence and grew it in the clone.”

Lance made a disgusted noise. “How do you do that with a dead arm?!”

“Keeping the tissue alive is a simple matter for Haggar, Red Paladin.”

“It is revolting. But more than possible,” Allura agreed.

“But that’s still just speculation,” Matt said. “We know there’s been a spy inside Voltron. It doesn’t matter how if we don’t know why. What specifically does she want out of all this? Why hasn’t she used more insider information?”

“It’d be invaluable to know, Matt. But on that we also have nothing but speculation. What do you think, Lotor?” Allura asked.

He frowned. “I agree that the witch’s plan is of the utmost importance; however, I would remind you, Princess: it must not compromise our efforts to stabilize the rest of the galra,” Lotor said.

Lance half-raised his hand. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but isn’t that plan in danger as long as we don’t know what Haggar is up to?”

“So we’ll multitask.” Allura sighed. “It is risky, I know. But concentrating our efforts solely on the rogue galra or the Druids would allow the other threat to grow unchecked. We must do our best to tackle both problems at once. I would still like your assistance with the rogues and quintessence, Hunk.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been studying Honerva’s science log and I’ve got some ideas.”

“In the meantime,” said Lance, “I’m gonna question Ezor. See what she has to say for herself.”

Keith snorted. Something about Lance leading an interrogation struck him as funny. “What are you going to do – annoy her into talking?”

“Ha, ha, laugh it up Mullet, you’re coming down there with me.”

“Of course I am! She could tell us where Shiro is.” Keith realized as the echo died around him that he'd shouted.

Lance gripped his shoulder. “We’ll get answers this time, Keith. I promise.”

Matt pitched in,“Pidge told me last night she’s making something that can help with that.”

Lance let go and took a step away from them. He said, “That sounds scary. Should I be scared?”

Matt fixed him with a look. One that Keith wasn’t familiar with. “Should you?”

Swallowing visibly, Lance replied, “Of Pidge or anything she makes? As a rule, terrified.”

Matt seemed to like that answer. Keith felt some kind of subtext between the two that definitely went over his head.

--

Lance wondered how many half galra they were going to have behind this glass. They were at two, now. One more and it’s a pattern.

Matt followed them down, making Lance feel tense.  His face was as closed-off as it had been last night, except this time without the joking mask. Now his expression was straight-up stone. But hopefully having his new boyfriend around would help Keith keep from going off like an IED.

Keith on the other hand had his arms crossed. Pretty standard Keith stuff.

Ezor was laying on the floor with her feet propped against the wall. Her soles smushed against the glass, smearing traces of dirt on it.

Keith hit the big intercom button. “Time to talk.”

The galra swung her feet down and sat up to look at them. “Ooooh, the underlings grace me with their presence. Where’s Mr. Bitch Slap and Miss Queen of the Universe?”

Lance stepped closer to the glass and tried to look confident. “Sorry. You won’t be seeing the princess any time soon, let alone get your hands on her.”

Ezor cocked her head. “Whelp, sucks for me, because that sort of impedes me doing my job.”

“Okay. You’re fired.”

“Lucky me.”

“Look, we don’t care about you. We want to know where Haggar is.”

“What’s in it for me?” She asked lazily, leaning back on her hands.

“We don’t kill you,” Keith growled.

Ezor shrugged. “Eh. That sounds about right. Haggar’s probably with Sendak, pulling his little puppet strings.”

“That would mean she’s dead. Which we know isn’t true.” Matt sounded just the tiniest bit proud despite performing his best imitation of an ice statue.

“Huh. Then I don’t know.”

“Hey Lance, I’m smelling a giant pile of horse shit,” Matt said, turning to face him.

Lance bit back a snicker. “It’s really stinking up the place. Think we should eject it?”

“Can’t smell it if it’s in space.”

“Rude.” Ezor protested.

“Then make yourself useful, and quick.”

She huffed. “I don’t have a tracker on the woman, I don’t know where she is.”

“But you’re working for her. You and the other generals,” Lance said.

“Look, we’re just trying to survive by now, okay? Lotor went bozo – years of dedicated service all to become universal outcasts. Most people would do anything to avoid execution and I’m no exception. But I must say, this is the nicest cell I’ve been in so far.”

“You’re a mercenary.”

“And dodging the question.” Matt narrowed his eyes. “If you want to stay alive, then tell us what you know about Haggar’s plan. What’s she after?”

“Oh that’s easy: take down Voltron. You’re really slow around here.”

“From the inside. Nice try, but no cigar," Lance snarked.

Keith whispered. “I don’t think she smokes.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” he whispered back.

“Oh good job! You found the little project she planted.” Ezor’s tone was more condescending than all Lance’s most hateful middle school teachers combined. “Guess you do have two neurons to rub together if you weeded out the spy.”

“What has she done with Shiro?” Keith demanded.

“The original? That one’s probably dead.”

The words hit Lance like falling hail. He waited for Keith to blow up at her. When nothing happened, he glanced to his left to see Matt squeezing Keith from behind in a tight hug. Keith’s eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out.

Matt looked at the general evenly. “You’re lying. You were on the ground, alone. You had to have set up a rendezvous point.”

Lance swallowed back the ice in his throat. “Yeah! Where were you gonna go after killing Allura?”

All three of them jumped at what happened next: Ezor fell onto the floor and started cackling. She laughed so loud she clearly couldn’t breathe. Her red face turned magenta.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Keith said.

“She – does not – want the pri – princess dead, you primitive worms. My – ” she took a moment to regain her composure. “My orders were to kidnap the princess.”

“Then where was the rendezvous point?!”

She smirked. “Right at the border of the Patrulian Zone. You can chase her there if you want, but if you go there you’ll definitely die.”

Patrulian Zone…Patrulian Zone…Quiznak, why did that sound so familiar?

Matt frowned. “She’s right. No one uses any route through that section of space anymore. Too many ships have gone missing.”

It suddenly hit Lance. If an actual light bulb had manifested itself above his head just to go off at that moment, he’d totally believe it. “HOLY CROW!”

He sprinted towards the elevator and shouted over his shoulder, “Keep questioning, I’ve got to tell Allura!” He ran to the bridge, which was empty, then searched the Castle at top speed until he arrived at the princess’s bed chambers. He swallowed back the awkwardness about approaching her in her private space. He knocked on the doors.

“Allura? It’s Lance, I’ve got important news!”

Her voice came muffled from inside. “Come in, Lance.”

He opened the door and skidded inside. “We were just interrogating Ezor and she – oh!” He froze. “Um, h-hey Pidge!”

Pidge sat cross-legged on the giant bed with Allura. She was wearing her shorts and windbreaker, and her feet were bare. Her glasses reflected the glow coming from her laptop, which was connected to some weird circular gizmo. All the mice had perched on her head and shoulders to weave tiny braids in her hair. Flames licked up Lance’s face and he quickly looked away to avoid staring. Allura cocked one eyebrow at him from her perch on the bed, and Hunk (whom at first he hadn’t noticed sprawled out on the floor with his ancient holographic science notebook) pointedly looked between Lance and Pidge, only fueling his embarrassment.

“You’re already interrogating her?” Pidge sounded oddly disappointed.

“…Yes?” he replied uncertainly.

She tapped at the gadget plugged into her computer. “Never mind. You were saying?”

“Right, uh. Ezor told us she was trying to kidnap you, Allura, not kill you. We just assumed it was an assassination. Haggar’s orders were to bring you to her at the entrance to Oriande.”

Everyone’s eyes widened. Pidge turned to Allura. “Do you think she could get in?”

The princess shrugged, brows furrowed. “Possibly. She’s technically an Altean with magical gifts. But what she could do with me I don’t know.”

“Maybe she was gonna cut off your arm and seduce you to the dark side.” The stupid joke left his mouth before Lance could stop it. He clapped his hands over his mouth, embarrassed, and heard an agonized groan from Hunk and a cute giggle-snort from Pidge. She bit her fist, plainly trying to hold in her laughter. Lance smiled behind his fingers

“Seduce? I hardly think so!” Allura’s scandalized yelp drew back his attention.

“You see what happens when you say stuff like that?” Hunk said. Lance shot him a glare.

Pidge took several deep breaths, to calm down. It obviously only worked like three-quarters of the way. “It’s a reference to a classic Americ – Earth movie. He means maybe Haggar wants to convert you to her cause, so you can be evil Altean alchemists together.”

Allura wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps. I suppose she only knew where to go because of the clone.” Lance nodded. “Haggar’s lust for power is dangerous. If she gains such mastery of quintessence then she could destroy the economic balance we’re trying to achieve and wreak disaster upon every living thing in the universe.”

Hunk’s eyes had gone so comically wide Lance was amazed they didn’t fall out of his skull. “Are you KIDDING ME? Zarkon is dead and now we have to deal with THIS? You guys do not sound scared enough! How do we stop her? PIDGE?”

“Hunk, lower your voice,” Allura admonished, “you’re scaring the mice.”

Pidge typed away at her computer. “I’ve been analyzing the clone’s galra arm. If we get close enough I might be able to track down Haggar, and since we have a good guess where she’s been…”

“…We could get in range and bring the fight to her. Pidge, you are brilliant!”

Pidge smirked at Allura. “I know.”

Lance’s stomach fluttered – then growled. The conversation was veering where his usefulness vanished anyway, so he made to leave the geniuses to do their thing. Hunk was already talking magical defenses with Allura. “I’m gonna go eat something and get back down to the cell.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you.” Pidge gathered her stuff and jumped clumsily off the bed. She looked and sounded a lot more manic than usual. “You wanna see something stupid?”

“If you hold up a mirror in front of my face, you’re dead to me.”

“Ugh. Opportunity missed. Come on, I just have to get something.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. He caught sight of Hunk and Allura looking meaningfully at each other, Allura outright giggling.

Pidge led him through the corridors and to the Green Lion’s hangar. Her work station was a mess. When she let go of his wrist, his skin tingled where she’d touched him.

“How do you find anything on here?” Lance asked, poking at something that looked suspiciously like a mechanical spider.

She batted his hand away. “It helps when nobody moves my stuff.” She handed him an alien bullhorn. Then she covered the opening with some kind of circular fan-looking thing - the one she'd had hooked up to her laptop earlier. It didn’t really look like a fan, but it was the closest comparison Lance could come up with. Pidge pressed the center button, making the outer ring (which she spun a few times like a dial) light up blue. “Okay, say something to me.”

“Is this the thing I heard you were making for interrogating reasons?”

“Lance, just use it like a normal bullhorn and say something.”

He was so torn between annoyance and affection. He was trying so very hard to be annoyed at her – she hauled him around the castle, she kept him up half the night (fine, the Pidge in his head kept him up half the night – technicalities). But despite the obvious bags under her bloodshot eyes, Pidge’s face was lit up like a Christmas tree and she was bouncing in excitement.

So Lance tested out her little invention: “I thought this was gonna be something stupid.” But the words came out in the high pitched, pebbly monotone of an old robot. His eyes widened. He started making little jerky robot movements. “Holy crow Pidge, I’ll never doubt you again.”

She giggled, her face flushing a bit. Probably sleep deprivation. “The dial on the outside changes the voice filters.”

He examined the gadget. “What’s ‘PW’?”

“Patrick Warburton.” Lance looked at her blankly. “The actor? 20, 21st century? One of the most iconic voices in history!”

Lance chuckled. “Since when were you a movie nerd?”

“My mom is. They made some weird-ass cartoons back then. Just try it, Lance.”

He spun the dial to “PW” and said the first thing that came to mind. “Did you sleep at all last night? Whooooaaaa-ho-ho-hooooaa. This is the smoothest, sexiest voice in the history of everything.” He playfully struck a pose. “Hey, girl. Cassanova’s here.”

Pidge laughed so hard she doubled over, hands on her knees, and visibly gasped for breath. Her cheeks turned a striking shade of pink. Lance’s heart break-danced proudly in his chest and he couldn’t have stopped his own grin if he’d tried.

“That was ridiculous.” Pidge’s laughter died out when she tried - and failed - to bite back a yawn. “The other settings are silly but I had to include that one.”

He put down the bullhorn on her warzone of a work table. “It is amazing. Total show-stopper. Is it useful? Or was this, like, stress-relief?”

Pidge took back the gizmo and started fiddling with it. She turned back to her work table, her back facing Lance. “We can attach it to any speaker in the Castle. Any of them. I figured we could hook it up to the containment cell and questioning Ezor will be so much funnier now.”

Lance giggled just thinking about it. “We’re not done interrogating her, you know. We can still use it.”

She turned her head, smiled at him, and continued, “I just figured, you know. Anything to lighten the mood around here. Make things easier for everybody. Yesterday sucked.”

Madre de Dios. That was unexpectedly sweet. In a rough, awkward, Pidge-kind-of way. He wondered how Pidge was dealing with the whole clone Shiro thing. Like, emotionally. She did look a little crazy today.

He frowned when she let loose another huge yawn. “Seriously, how much have you slept?”

She tried to glare at him through her drooping eyes. Valiant try, but dice. He gently tugged her out of the hangar and in the direction of the dining hall. “Enough. I just need some caffeine.”

“Not the same thing as beauty sleep, Pidge.”

“Who cares if I’m beautiful?”

Definitely ignoring that question. “Fine. Big-brain sleep, then.”

“Coffee.”

He rolled his eyes and they walked in silence.

Completely out of the blue, Pidge muttered, “…reminds me of peanut butter.”

“Huh?”

“Patrick Warburton’s voice. It tastes like peanut butter.”

“You can taste sound?”

“Yeah, sort of. It’s called synesthesia. My senses get a little crossed so my brain makes some weird and powerful associations. Green’s purring is like sparkling lemonade. Hunk’s voice is like cinnamon rolls.” Her eyes stared out into nothing, big and unfocused, like she only could pay attention to what she was saying.

Lance hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to know. “What does my voice taste like?” He immediately cringed. Nice going, McClain. She’s gonna think you’re so –

“Um, apples and cream cheese.” Her answer came quickly.

Lance’s thoughts skidded to a stop and he stared at her.

“What? Is it weird?”

“…That’s extremely specific, Pidge.”

She shrugged. She looked at him from the corner of her eye with a mischievous spark. “Be glad yours is positive, like Hunk’s. But Lotor's is black licorice.”

Lance barked out a surprised laugh. “Have I ever told you I love your brain?”

P A N I C.

Pull the fire alarm! Make a run for it! Stop, drop, and roll! Find the emergency exits and pray you don’t die!

Pidge stopped in her tracks and looked at him for a long moment. The sirens blaring in his head steadily quieted. Amber eyes anchored him to the spot, and he couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink, they were so entrancing. He noticed there were faint stripes of chocolatey brown around the edges of her irises. She looked at him like he was encrypted computer code and she needed to solve him.

Which was weird, honestly. Lance sure as hell isn’t encrypted. His papi always called him an open book.

Finally Pidge quirked one side of her mouth up in a soft smirk. Lance didn’t even know a smirk could be soft. “You could stand to say it more frequently.”

Flames licked up Lance’s cheeks. Yeah, he couldn’t handle any more of this. He slung an arm around her and steered her into the kitchen, keeping her propped up against his side. Lance heated up some of that weird fruit coffee Hunk made for Pidge while she hoisted herself onto the counter. When he handed her the space mug, he noticed that Pidge was a little above eye level with him with her sitting up so high. Her bare feet swung and tapped the cupboards below. She took a sip with her eyes never leaving his face. It was like staring into a spotlight.

“Stop giving me that look.”

“What look?”

“That look. The one on your face.”

Pidge just grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. Lance busied himself with finding what passed for nutritious food around here. If she wouldn’t sleep, he’d at least get some protein into her. And himself, holy quiznak he was hungry. She was still staring at him when he looked up.

Desperate not to spontaneously combust under that gaze, he blurted the first distraction that sprung to mind. “Last night I saw Matt leaving Keith’s room!”

She choked on her drink. “Leaving like they’d just finished a late-night conversation or…”

“Well. I heard some stuff through the wall last night that definitely wasn’t talking. More like moaning.”

“UGH, Lance! What the fuck!”

“Pretty sure that’s what Keith was doing to – ”

“Finish that sentence and I will destroy all your skin care stuff.” She rubbed her forehead. “Why would you say that to me? Now I’ve got that mental image of my brother and…gah.”

Was that his brightest decision? Yeah, probably not. Lance knew more than well enough how gross hearing about your sibling’s sex life can be, even just mentioning its existence. But desperate times called for desperate measures and she’d finally stopped scrutinizing him. He could breathe normally again.

He ended up shoving a bowl of food goo into Pidge’s hands (what? He could barely cook Earth food) and hopping onto the kitchen island across from her with his own bowl of Jell-O-y green weirdness. They ate in silence for a while.

Eventually Pidge spoke up, looking into her bowl and using her spoon to play with the goo. Avoiding his eyes. “Actually, I’m kinda worried about Keith.”

“Why? Is your brother a heart-breaker?”

“I’m serious, Lance.” She sent him a brief glare then looked away again. “Keith fell apart last time Shiro disappeared. What’s he gonna do now that he’s lost him twice?”

“Three times.”

“What?” she asked distractedly.

“Keith lost Shiro three times. Kerberos first.”

“Oh. Right.” Pidge stabbed her food. Lance looked carefully at her face. Her eyes, kept stubbornly wide open, were shining with unshed tears.

Lance had already cried himself dry yesterday. “Keith’s gonna be okay. We’re all gonna be okay. I swear Shiro’s still alive.”

She looked up at him. “Did Ezor tell you that?”

“No, she said he was probably dead. But he has to be alive! I know it, I could feel it. Remember? In the void thing? That had to be him.”

“I hope you’re right, Lance.” She set her bowl down, got down off the counter, then hopped up onto the island, sitting next to him. She smelled oddly like berries and tea.

“Pidge…” he started slowly. “Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

He could see her struggling with her answer. She was so close that he felt her body heat on his arm. I guess it makes sense a girl’s gonna be the death of me.

“I couldn’t sleep.” The words sounded rough and quiet. “So I went to the med bay to study the clone. Lance, every cell, every gene sequence, every piece of circuitry, even the scars matched perfectly with our scans of Shiro’s physiology. I kept thinking if I could find the differences then I could figure out how he was being controlled. But it looks exactly like him.”

Her head fell on his shoulder and she squeezed her eyes tight. The soft impact dislodged her glasses. Lance carefully took them off her face and set them aside (and tried to ignore his heartbeat insisting that this was a crisis). He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she curled into him.

“I kept thinking what if he was the real Shiro? What if I was wrong? What if he’d actually been corrupted somehow? I did sleep, for like five minutes. I just dreamed about shooting him, over and over and over again. So I got out of bed and built a voice-altering gadget. Hold me a little tighter, please?”

He did. “Pidge, why did you shoot him? What made you so sure?”

“It’ll sound weird.”

“You have floating fluffy caterpillars for pets and I found you on the roof scanning the solar system for aliens, and you’re worried about weird now?”

She laughed and it made his heart a little lighter. “I looked him in the eyes and it was painful. Like when someone shines a flashlight in your eyes. You should’ve seen his expression when he attacked you, Lance. It was feral.”

“You wanna know what’s messed up? When you said it wasn’t Shiro, when Lotor said it was a clone, I was relieved. I didn’t wanna think Shiro would yell at me like that.”

She mumbled into his shirt, “Never. Shiro would never say all that bullshit. I guess it all makes sense now.” Pidge gasped and so suddenly Lance swore he got whiplash she jumped out of his arms and onto the floor, leaving the right side of his body feeling cold. Her eyes went manic again.

“Lance! If that was Shiro, really Shiro talking to us in the Voltron mindscape then we can talk to him through Voltron!”

The solution was so painfully obvious he couldn’t believe they’d overlooked it until now. “He’s connected to the Black Lion, who’s connected to the other Lions – Pidge we have to try this right now! We need to get in our Lions and talk to Shiro!”

“We need find Allura and Hunk and get Keith!”

Part 10

[starrystarrygames]

Game Dev Log #2

Hi, Qi here, writing a dev log in my turn for the first time. If you find something odd, it’s a little bit of joke. 

Eh what? This is only the second one and it’s been over a year since last update?

Hmm, sorry about the delay. And long time no post on Weibo and Twitter either… Not a procrastinator! We are just getting things more ready for a showcase, whatever… Well, forget it!

Anyway, let’s get back with a passion for the log.

Now let’s talk about our latest internal demo. pause Yes, we made it here with all this hard work, a complete demo version! It’s internal, not for players yet… Disappointed? No worries, a public demo will be right after that.

Thanks for Waiting: A Guidebook of Babel

ahem Thanks for the demo, this is our first step on Babel. We plan to reach the deck before the Monsoon. By the way, please do not try to get aboard by yourself! The only choice you can make is flying puffer. Pardon? What is a flying puffer? Well, please check it out in our previous posts! Found nothing? Oh… Sorry. I’ll add a reminder. Thanks.

The Monsoon

We have designed a episode here to test on gameplay and playability. The episode features Mr Javet, the coach of the Swimmers, and Mr Tomas, the mysterious guy. Welcome. And, in addition, Mr Breath. Come, Mr Breath, up to the stage. Don’t be shy, come.

Qi: Mr Tomas, introduce yourself and your story in the act.

Tomas: Oh, my pleasure. I must keep my secret identity for now, hehe… I came to the deck seeking the parts, which is, hehehe… Phew. That was close. No more spoilers since Mr Javet is here.

Tomas on a Secret Mission

Qi: Al-alright… So, Mr Javet, it’s your turn.

Javet: The Swimmers received a search order for an incident on the deck. And then, huh, as I expected. When you smell something fishy, humph.

Qi: It’s usually THE Tomas?

Javet: Exactly. It was him. Dammit…

Unexpected on the Deck 

Qi: Okay. Thank you all, And good luck to Mr Javet. Next, Mr Breath? What the heck. Has anyone seen Mr Breath?

Er… Thanks. In brief, we will witness a hide-and-seek game of Mr. Javet and Mr. Tomas in the demo. You can play the part of Tomas and try to escape from the Swimmers. While our unfortunate Mr Breath, another protagonist in the whole story, has always been involved in many incidents. No exception this time.

“Mr Key” — Breath

I said we built the demo for gameplay test, right? So you think your hundred-hour experience from adventure game puzzles would probably help? However, we are glad to remind you of the “Mission Failed” popup.

Confused? Hey, remember the hint from our narrator, Mr Antoine. Note the clues! Every clue exists for some reason. Imagine how to manipulate the story, which is the important thing. Yes, the key that underlies these stages — Butterfly Effect! Make use of it, and their fate is right on your fingertips!

Clues and Events Recorded in the Guidebook

That’s it. Refresh your mind and take it as an all-new experience instead of a cliché!

On our side, this demo truly means a form of our gameplay, scenario, art style and game framework. It is our base standard for further development, rather than just a 20-minute prototype demo. All the time we spent proved to be worthy…

Well, we did experience a frustration in the last year. Forget about it. The previous demo was so messy that we spent four months to get it right!… Uh? Didn’t I mention the previous version? Really?… Jeez, screwed up… I didn’t mean to make a disillusion.

Finally, a Simple Makeup

Well… It’s impossible to stay out of any trouble. Fortunately we have settled the matter. Thanks for the critical advice from our friends. Thanks a lot, really.

One more thing. Based on our story structure, a more detailed and refined scenario is in progress. You want some leaks? Hey, I’m not a spoiler, and I’m good at keeping secret! In a few words? Okay, a few words… The full story would be tightly packed… Does it make any sense? Forgive me.

Challenges and difficulties, umm… Funds, and… Crew member, probably. Of course, we do like new teammates! But funds also matter. We are welcoming! Or maybe crowdfunding… ahem Necessary for advertising. Good luck to me. Frankly, we don’t want to take too long time, but most of all, quality is the point. Don’t worry.

Focus on Development! Or an Irritated Little Will!

That’s all. Writing a dev log like this is unexpectedly relaxing for me, surprised. Oh, don’t forget my own profession! It was like I had almost switched to a full-time blogger!

So much for today. Thanks for reading. We would be appreciated if you like it. I’ll put aside my keyboard and grab my pen tablet. May inspiration flash on Babel! Have a nice day!

[rpchive]

118th Encounter-- Slowly and Surely

progress!

Cautiously, Clair approaches the training room, unsure of how to approach coming near the door. Stepping to the side of it instead, she gently knocks, waiting to see if the storm inside calms before she tries to enter. A loud but unintelligible conversation continues inside, unaffected by Clair's attempt to get attention. Clair presses her head up against the wall in an attempt to listen in. Daedalus: -care about this fucking place anyway? The more they try to do, the closer this whole things gets to crumbling to the ground! What does it matter what I do if everyone else is just gonna slam themselves into a brick wall until they finally give out?

Voltarus: Things are not as bleak as they seem, nor are they as self-destructive as you imagine. You need to focus. I know what your condition is doing to you; you need to try and see past your delusions-

Daedalus: I am not delusional! It's everyone else that's gone off their fucking rocker! Have you seen what these idiots are doing to themselves?

Voltarus: The situation is difficult, I'll give you that. The others are struggling with a new type of foe and how to deal with it. What matters is what you do now to deal with the problem before it truly does pass the point of no return. Taking a deep breath, Clair nods decisively before carefully attempting to open the door. The door opens with no resistance, but an intense wave of heat blasts out from inside as she makes her way in. Voltarus and Daedalus appear to be pacing in a circle facing each other in the center of the room. Flames drip down from Daedalus' arms like napalm and continue to burn for some time on the floor, forming a misshapen ring of fire around the pair. Voltarus' attention is drawn to Clair as she steps inside, causing Daedalus to turn and look in the same direction. His furious scowl deepens slightly as he sees her.

Daedalus: Oh good, another one. Here to chime in with sunshine over here? Flinching from a mix of the comment and the heat, Clair forces herself to steady her gaze as she closes the door behind herself. "...What else could I do? Nobody else can talk to you right now...or maybe they don't know what to say...but somebody has to do something..." Daedalus: That's the fucking problem!

Daedalus brings his fists up and then swings them down in a sharp motion that sends two massive plumes of fire out to his sides. "Everyone always feels like they have to stick their nose in every little problem they come across, and it means nothing in the grand fucking scheme of it all! There's nothing to be gained from this and everything to lose! Why should I bother helping a group of people that just want to drive themselves off a goddamn cliff?" Clair: And what else should we do? Maybe we can't fix everything; I mean, there's always a problem that's bigger than us somewhere; but if we stopped doing anything at all? Kleivenn are being hunted to extinction by their own kind due to the aftermath of a war; without us, they'd all be weaponized or dead. If nobody had sealed whatever ate the Earth from Silky and XL's universe, it would've kept eating planets until it was the only thing left. Paprika and Maya would've died; Jay and Demo would've kept being used as tools; and you? Maybe we can't fix everything, but we're doing something, and it matters!! Daedalus: Like hell it does! Entropy gets everything in the end, we're just delaying the inevitable! You wanna see me do something? I'll show you what I can fucking do-

Daedalus turns and strides toward Clair, only to be grabbed from behind by Voltarus, pinning his arms to his sides. A sudden draft pulls Daedalus' flames behind the pair and away from Clair. Voltarus looks at Clair from over Daedalus' shoulder.

Voltarus: Talking doesn't seem to be much good for him this time. I think you need to use a more direct method to calm him down! There is a moment where Clair seems to want to object, though she quickly decides to take Voltarus up on their offer. Taking Daedalus' head in her hands, she places her head against his, only really asking for him to calm down. Daedalus struggles to break himself away from both Clair and Voltarus for several seconds, but eventually Clair's influence pushes through. Fire stops seeping out from his body, and the residual flames on the floor around the room begin to die down. Daedalus' frantic breathing finally begins to slow down, and Clair feels his weight lean into her as his eyes close. Voltarus carefully releases him from his grip, allowing Daedalus to put his hands on Clair's shoulders as he sinks into her for support. Letting go of Daedalus to hold him on the off chance that he collapses, Clair speaks softly. "...I'm sorry. I'm sorry this is hurting you...I'm sorry everyone's getting hurt...I'm sorry we can't do more..." Daedalus is quiet for several seconds before he finally responds. "I... I'm the one that should be sorry. I was starting to lose track of myself, and all I could think about was how angry I was about everything. This stupid brainwashing shit Lobotomy did is... really annoying. Please don't take what I say to heart if I start getting like this. I'm upset, but..." Clair: ...It's okay. Will you be alright...? Daedalus: ... I don't know. I don't think I'll feel better until everything's back to normal again. I just...

He pushes Clair away, gently but firmly, and takes a few steps away from Clair and Voltarus as he runs his hands down his face.

"Fucking hell, between everything that's happened recently I just don't see how I'm actually doing anything here. Demo's still not really herself because I couldn't stop that poker playing fuck-stick from biting her soul in half, and... I still think about that fight with Azreldeh's sister back in the mirror. You don't remember this, but I would've failed to get you back from her if that huge fucking demon king hadn't stepped in and stopped the fight. I've failed both of you in pretty short fucking order, and I just... don't know what I'm doing anymore." Clair: ...I don't think you failed. You didn't know what that devil was gonna do to Demo; and, well, I don't know enough about the mirror incident to put my two cents in there, but, I mean, if you were trying your hardest, then there's nothing to blame... Daedalus: If my best isn't cutting it, then what's the point of me even going out there?

Voltarus: The problem isn't that your best isn't enough; it's that you haven't even reached your potential yet.

Daedalus: ... The hell is that supposed to mean?

Voltarus: We purposefully avoided interfering directly in your adventures up until now to see how you've been handling things before we were properly awoken. Perhaps the blame partly lies with us for waiting so long to intervene, and for that we apologize. That being said, your ability to control our power has been... rudimentary. You've grasped the basics of channeling my power specifically, there is much more for you to learn, should you choose to.

Daedalus: And you're just now deciding to share that little tidbit of information? Voltarus: Better now than even later, eh? Truthfully, your ability to see your own limits is a good sign. We firmly believe you can rise to meet the task ahead of you, but smiting a devil will be no easy task. Clair: So...are you gonna help him? Voltarus: Of course! If he chooses to take us on the offer, that is.

Daedalus: If it means getting closer to piledriving that bastard into the dirt for good, I'm all in.

Voltarus: Excellent! We begin immediately! Our first task then should be ridding you of that desire for revenge.

Daedalus: ... Wait hang on what?

listen I know this was a chill log but that line still scared the shit out of me because after Law I literally do not know what to expect from your guys anymore

Voltarus: Your single-minded desire to destroy whatever problem you're facing robs you of the broad range of our powers. If you truly wish to grow into your power, then you must grow as an individual first. A selfish desire for revenge does not a hero make.

Daedalus: ... I can't believe this. We're starting with self-help talks? You got five easy steps to have a happier attitude while you're at it?

Voltarus: Indeed! Although that's not part of your training for now.

Daedalus: Oh for- Alright, look, if it means learning more tricks than fire hammers, then I'll humor you. Clair, you don't have to stick around for this. It's only a matter of time before he lights a campfire and starts trying to get us to sing "Kumbaya" or some crap like that. Clair: Well, maybe not, but if something else weird happens, someone else should stick around in case you need help, right? Daedalus: I... can't argue with that. Falling back into my old mindset is really annoying, and it's gonna be hard to remember anything if I have another weird memory gap happen. Clair: Then I'll stay here unless I have to leave. Voltarus: Then it's settled! Now, let's begin!

Daedalus grumbles something as he turns back and follows the pair as Voltarus begins setting up an area to sit.

[Meanwhile...]

Azreldeh quickly flees Firefly's Botania room as Firefly swears after her, hastily hurrying out as well. "...The flowers don't need magic, they make it! And...what gave you the idea that your magic would be good for anything?!"

Azreldeh: L-look, I said I was sorry--...!!

Firefly: Sorry won't make all those sprites go away, and it won't stop more from showing up!! You made this mess!! You make every mess!! Collin stops making his way down the hallway as the pair spill out of Firefly's door, one hand still pressed against the wall to help balance himself. He glances between the two for a second before speaking up. "Uh, is everything okay?" Firefly: Of course not!! Azreldeh made a huge mess!!

Azreldeh: D-don't come this way, they're gonna start pouring out into the hall soon...!!

Firefly: Ugh, whatever! Even if they do; sprites are harmless until provoked; so just...don't touch anything...! Collin: Well, it can't be that bad if they're harmless, right? How many are there? Azreldeh: Right now? Dozens. But uhh...more are showing up...

Firefly: They're all spilling out because you tried to feed one of my flowers your infernal magic!! They're going to chase you because you're a demon!! Get out!!

Azreldeh: Hey, I can't just step out of the ship...! ...What am I supposed to do...?

Firefly: I don't care, just...go somewhere else!! Collin: I'd offer to help, but I'm out of commission for a bit. Maybe you can get the pantheon to help? In the meantime, uh... Azreldeh, why don't we go somewhere that isn't here? Azreldeh: ...Right! Where to...? Your room...? Collin: Uh, sure? That's where I was headed anyway. Just bear with me, I'm a little slow right now. Nodding, Azreldeh heads in Collin's direction, keeping close in case he needs her support. "...Let me know if you need help; I can carry you if I have to." Collin: It's not that bad. I've just been spoiled by how well my prosthetic mimics normal movement normally. Remind me to thank Barbell the next time we see him. Azreldeh: Hopefully sooner than later...I'm sorry you guys got dragged into this... Collin: It happens. I just wish I hadn't made things even worse... I've turned this into a real mess. Azreldeh: ...You? No, you haven't done anything... Collin: I mean, I pulled in devil magic so now he can just do whatever with me. That doesn't sound like nothing to me... Azreldeh: But that hasn't made the situation worse! Jay's still safe, and so are we...! ...For the most part. This sprite thing was kind of a mistake on my part, ahah... Collin: What was the deal with that, anyway? I didn't think you were a green thumb sort of person. Azreldeh: Well, I just figured I could actually try to do something helpful around here for once, but I guess my magic's just inherently harmful to its surroundings... Collin: I don't think that's true. You just haven't found the right gap to fill, that's all. Azreldeh: ...Maybe so. Well, whatever, as long as nobody else gets messed up, I don't care. Collin: I'll try my best not to cause any other problems, then. Not that I can... really guarantee that. Azreldeh: L-look, the only problem we're gonna have in a minute is all those sprites coming to find me, and you're still pretty close... Collin: If my room's too close, we can go somewhere further back. I thought they were harmless though? Azreldeh: Maybe they are, but Firefly said they wouldn't like me... Collin: Well, let's just get somewhere where you won't get swarmed by a bunch of angry pixies then. Azreldeh: I...really don't think there's a place like that on this ship right now...

Azreldeh glancing behind herself has grown significantly more apparent. Collin: Oh, uh...? What should we do, then? Azreldeh: I, uhh...!! You can't run, so, uhh...!! ...I...messed this up already!!

Turning around, Azreldeh faces the ocean of sprites that are rapidly drifting towards the pair down the hallway. "...Brace yourself!! Even if they're harmless to most people, you've still been cursed by a devil...!!"

As the sprites close in on the pair, a muffled  crackling sound fills the air. Shielding herself with her wings, Azreldeh braces herself for retaliation only to find the sprites are prioritizing Collin instead. Stunned, she starts yanking them out of the air and shouting at them to try and get their attention to no avail.

The magical current within a single sprite seems to do no harm to Azreldeh, but with hundreds upon thousands of them up close, the current seems to have amplified for each sprite surrounding another. Unifying their efforts, the wall of pink sprites attempts to fire a massive bolt of magic at Collin, only for it to curve moments before impact, firing into the crowd and incinerating the vast majority of the sprites. Azreldeh, however, seems unharmed by the attack.

Fearing the force that turned their magics against them, the remainder of the sprites disperse, leaving Collin and Azreldeh alone in the hall. From the depths, Collin hears Bandit's voice call out to him.

{...You're welcome.}

Collin: ... I... I've never been more conflicted about being saved in my life.

can you even imagine having your life threatened by what’s essentially a wall of pink, glittery cotton balls with wings

Bandit: {What, don't like it? I could put you back in danger if you wanna do it yourself...oh, wait, you can't now, can you? Hahaha!} Collin: Ugh, look, do you need  something or are you just here to gloat? Saving me from a pixie swarm doesn't make up for everything else. Bandit: {I'm just making sure the two of you are alright. Because I can't see the state of your kleivenn without you.} Collin: Well he's not ready for you to try making him destroy an entire universe again yet, I'll tell you that much. Bandit: {As if I care if he's ready or not. I need to know if he's /able/; and he isn't yet...but I'm sure he'll get there sooner rather than later. I'm pretty patient when it comes to investments anyway, so I can hold this out as long as I need to. Can you?} Collin: It's gonna take a lot more than this to crack me, don't you worry about that. Bandit: {Suit yourself. I'll keep watching as long as it takes. Just know you won't be rid of me any time soon.} Collin: We'll see about that... Bandit retreats to his usual distance from the situation at hand, and Azreldeh finally turns her attention to Collin.

"...Are you okay? Those things didn't hit you, huh...?" Collin: No, Bandit bounced the attack back at them. Not exactly happy he can still do magic when I can't, but at least I'm not fried... Are you okay? Azreldeh: Me? Yeah, I'm fine. They tickled a little when I grabbed em, but nothing hurt...I'm just glad you're okay. Collin: Likewise. At least that deals with the pixie problem? Hopefully? Azreldeh: It looked like the last few disappeared. Guess they went back to wherever they came from... Collin: Here's hoping. Anyway, I... guess I'll get back to my room, finally. You're still free to hang around if you want. Better to have you sticking around than the other guy... Azreldeh: Y-yeah...! Uh, also, I guess nobody told you yet, but you shouldn't say the devil's name. They can hear everything around you when you say it... Collin: ... That would've been good to know earlier. Although given my situation, they might be able to hear everything around me anyway... Azreldeh: I'm not so sure about that...I think they're only gonna make contact when something interests them, unless you call their name. That's the one thing demons and devils have in common; we always answer those who call us. Collin: Duly noted, I guess. So the same thing happens with you? Azreldeh: W-well, I guess so...! Collin: You... don't know? I've probably said your name a bunch of times since you've been here. Azreldeh: Yeah, but not to get my attention...! Collin: I guess that's fair. Anything else I should know about all of this while we're at it? Azreldeh: ...Not that I can think of. Just don't say their name unless you want them to know what you're doing. Collin: Got it. So uh, to my room? Azreldeh: ...Wow, I wasn't expecting you to invite me for once! Collin: Well yeah, it's not like I hate you or something. I... still owe you a date, after all. Just don't read too deeply into the invitation... Azreldeh: Heheh, yeah, I know. Alright, let's get you where you're going... Collin finally reaches the door to his room and opens it for Azreldeh before stepping inside himself.

I really do like the little moments between these two

uhh, I forgot how many baby logs we had between Bandit and the fight, jesus. idk when we’re gonna kick his ass now