#just having fun with what information i have

[paracosmicka]

Primal Fears AU content but don’t worry it’s still sonadow

That last one is a repost from last year so if you saw the silly drawings but then read the thing in the bottom left corner and went “wait what the fuck”

It’s because it was an AU thing but I literally only had that drawn out and now you get some context at least:

In this universe Sonic is an assassin/bounty hunter/whatever you wanna call a guy that is hired to specifically to kill other Entities. He meets Shadow when they run into each other because they’re both following the same Avatar. Then they do the normal canon sonadow thing where the first interaction they have always ends with them fighting and beating the shit out of each other. And then they kinda calm down but then Shadow has a similar moment from the beginning of the IDW Sonic comics where he gets absolutely pissed that Sonic managed to distract him from catching the bad guy and zooms away before the two have another chance to speak again.

Here Shadow is a GUN field agent except in this universe GUN isn’t really military and it’s more focused on not only investigating (like the Magnus Institute) but also actively dealing with the Entities. Which sounds great except remember how I said they aren’t military well actually they kinda are because “dealing” with Entities and Avatars just means: throw it in the high-security prison that is guarded by other various Avarars that all work for GUN because it means they don’t have to get thrown in prison. So GUN is kinda like The Magnus Institute + Section 31 working together. So actually I guess it’s like the SCP Foundation.

One day Shadow goes into work and Sonic and there and I’m not really sure on what I’m gonna do in the plot to make him end up there (like maybe he’s undercover and just using GUN to get to his next target or maybe GUN does the “hey we’re gonna throw you in jail if you don’t agree to work for us” idk again not sure yet) but now he’s working with Shadow because they still need to catch that Avatar.

So now we’re sorta caught up, they’re at Club Rouge (and I realized I didn’t specify which Entity she serves in my drawing of her but people who guessed the Stranger ding ding ding here have some sonadow) because Sonic and Shadow need to kinda interrogate Surge and Amy, who are associated with the Slaughter. They have a band called Poison Rose and it’s basically just Grifter’s Bone but they perform rock music instead. And are also probably dating.

Anyway the Big Case™️ Sonic and Shadow are working on is investigating a bunch of spooky murders and they’re pretty sure whoever’s behind them is a Slaughter avatar. But not specifically Amy and Surge☝️ They’re kinda “allowed” to perform the Music That Makes You Die because GUN also has like an “informant” group of avatars they can rely on. These avatars don’t work for GUN, but they agree to chill out on the spooky stuff if it means they don’t get arrested for spooky crimes. So for Poison Rose, “chilling out” on the spooky stuff means that they have to force people to wear earplugs while they perform, which wasn’t specifically stated in MAG 42 if that works or not, not really sure of the magic rules of the Music That Makes You Die phenomena but yeah they gotta do that and probably some other stuff so GUN doesn’t arrest them. Like maybe no swearing or something lol.

Okay gonna stop there before this gets even longer explaining my AU because this was supposed to be just a normal sketch post but whoops.

Oh also I made a playlist for the kind of music Poison Rose performs but it was made private because I didn’t want anyone to stumble across it and be like “pshhhh this dumb person who makes public playlists of their AU that no one knows about what a loser” (me when I make up completely unrealistic scenarios in my head) but now here’s a post explaining that part of my AU so that person can’t make fun of me anymore

[justjasper]

people getting legit heated about this.. i know it's the "piss on the poor" level of media comprehension but quick help: tradwife adjacent ragebait: overly complicated recipe with needless/weird steps (like that spaghetti hoop pie lady who kneaded the fucked up dough with her elbows), played totally straight/just "realistic" enough to be believeable, because the point is for people to assume the content is sincere and get frustrated at the skills/needless complexity etc and engage satire (this video): parodying the tropes of tradwife video content via something utterly nonsensical, relying on the assumption that the majority of people viewing have 1 sprinkling of common sense to understand satirical obsurdity, and familiarity with the tropes being parodied, who then engage with it because it's funny and they understand the tropes being made fun of.

i'm not trying to be uncharitable to people who struggle with media literacy, it is a learned skill with no real learning source! you learn through experience, especially in the age of content farming etc

consider it through a comedy lens: she uses 10 different sources of ice with no disinquishing qualities. repetition of needless information is a comedy trope. it's silly when the same information is neededly repeated.

if this was ragebait, e.g. trying to pass as "real" and not satire (making fun of something), there might have been lots of surpurflous steps, but they would be ones that could... passably be classed as believeable. maybe a couple of sources of ice, maybe stupid shit with ice cubes or stuff. even just a complicated rundown of how to filter/"purity" water, maybe. this kind of content is meant to be an exhibition of domestic labour and the women who are "kept" well enough by their white well off christian husbands to engage in it (or the woo-woo new age bent, there's different flavours).

when you see something ridiculous like this, ask yourself: is it ridiculous on purpose? what kind of reaction is this trying to get from me? what context clues are here to tell me if this is genuine, satirical, ironic, or something else?

[hellspawnmotel]

Question: I notice on your Deltarune posts you focus on a lot about relationships and gender roles and such. May I ask why exactly? Just curious as to why find this aspect of this game so particularly interesting? Is there anything else you find interesting about DR?

well. first of all yes I find many other aspects of DR to be interesting lmao. the discarded vessel, the conversations ralsei and kris have when the player isnt looking, the dreemurr-holiday family split, anything surrounding dess, the connections to undertale, what gaster's goals are, susie's potential, kris's whole everything.... but as I've said before, I don't really like making predictions outside of themes and character dynamics. and I feel that for most of these things, I don't have enough information yet to really dig my teeth in analysis-wise, or else I don't have anything interesting to say that hasn't been said already.

as for why I fixate on the theme of gender so much.......

it just happens to be a theme I'm extremely drawn to and interested in

idk if I've ever vibed with a single character as much as I do noelle. it's like she and all her aesthetics were made for me specifically to love. and noelle is..... at least given the context of the weird route, she's kind of a girl of all time? not just in terms of being a great character, but her position represents femininity in fiction to me in the same way as like, rei ayanami or anthy himemiya. she's very much herself but in the eyes of the narrative and the viewer she becomes every girl to ever live. she's turned into a symbol. all girls are like the rose bride. there's just already so many layers and so much to analyze about it- not just from the game itself but how the audience receives and reacts to the game.

I'm a woman

my absolute favorite genre of video games is JRPGs from the 90s and 00s and let me tell you something about that. I could name more games that I have stopped playing after getting hours in specifically because the way they handled their female characters pissed me off so much, than games that I've come out of feeling like the girls were written at all fairly. how women are written in this genre, and in fantasy at large, is something I already thought about all the time. and deltarune is very much based on games like that! it's not the only thing deltarune is based on but it's the thing I personally have the most experience with. and given what we've been presented with so far, I actually feel pretty confident, for the first time in my life, that deltarune is going to continue to do right by its female characters and have interesting things to say about women in JRPGs, video games, fantasy, and fiction in general, if only in the abstract. it's something I've been dying to see done well specifically in this setting, this genre, and this medium for years. and I'm gonna revel in that as much as I can.

......writing this I forgot that you also said "relationships" and not just gender roles lol but that answer's a lot simpler. I just love watching and writing character interaction. and again, it's something I can iterate on a lot despite not having the full picture yet. it's fun and cool.

[astrolook]

Empty Houses in Your Birth Chart: Cosmic Ghost Town or Chill Zone?

So, you’ve been staring at your birth chart and wondering why you have empty houses. Maybe you have no planets in your 7th house (“Am I doomed to die alone?”), or your 2nd house (“Does this mean I’ll be broke forever?”). Relax. Breathe. The universe didn’t just forget to assign you a personality.

Empty houses don’t mean you lack something; they mean you don’t have a planet permanently renting space there. It’s like a fully furnished Airbnb—functional, livable, just not your primary residence. You still experience these areas of life, just without a permanent cosmic tenant making a mess of things.

Empty 1st House - House of Self, Identity, and ‘Main Character Energy’

"Who am I?"

You don’t need planets in your 1st house to have a personality, I promise. If it’s empty, your Rising Sign ruler/lord is the real MVP here—it’s the planet secretly controlling your life like an undercover boss.

It doesn't mean you’re invisible, boring, or lacking an identity. (Come on, even NPCs have a backstory.)

Unlike people with planets here, you’re not out here having existential crises every five minutes.

Empty 2nd House - House of Money, Self-Worth & That Bag 💰

"Will I ever be rich?"

You’re not destined to survive on instant noodles forever. Your financial success comes from the sign ruling this house—not a chaotic planet constantly meddling with your money habits.

Here, money isn’t the biggest stressor in your life (lucky you). You might not define yourself by wealth, but you can still make serious cash.

Empty 3rd House - House of Communication, Siblings & ‘Did You Read the Fine Print?’

"Why do people talk so much?"

No planets here? You don’t have constant mental chatter or an obsession with posting hot takes on Twitter (unlike certain air sign placements). You process information at your own pace, and your Mercury placement tells us how you communicate.

Here it simply mean that you can be a great speaker or writer—just without the need to debate everything to death.

Empty 4th House - House of Family & Emotional Foundations

"Am I emotionally stable or just unbothered?"

If your 4th house is empty, family drama isn’t your core personality trait (looking at you, Cancer moons). Your upbringing shaped you, but your emotions aren’t constantly under siege.

It means you don’t live in your past. Your sense of home and emotional security comes from the ruling sign, not a chaotic planet making things messy.

Empty 5th House - House of Fun, Romance & ‘Oops, I Did It Again’

"Am I doomed to be boring?"

Empty 5th house? You still have fun, fall in love, and make questionable decisions—it’s just not your full-time job. Your creative hobbies, love life, and risk-taking tendencies come from the house ruler, not a planet throwing drama parties.

It means you’re not obsessively seeking attention. You can still be artistic, romantic, and entertaining—you just do it without the theatrics.

Empty 6th House - House of Work, Health & That Annoying Daily Routine

"Do I even have a work ethic?"

No planets in the 6th house? Congrats, you’re not micromanaging your own existence. You handle responsibilities when necessary, but you’re not out here color-coding to-do lists at 3 AM.

It means you’re chill about work and health. You get things done without needing a constant cosmic drill sergeant yelling at you.

Empty 7th House - House of Relationships & ‘Are We Dating or Just Vibing?’

"Am I cursed in love?"

Nope, an empty 7th house doesn’t mean you’re single forever. It just means you’re not obsessed with relationships—your partnerships unfold naturally instead of being your life’s central drama.

It means you don’t overcomplicate love. You attract relationships when the time is right—without planets causing unnecessary chaos.

Empty 8th House -House of Transformation, Sex & ‘What Happens After We Die?’

"Am I missing the ‘mystical and sexy’ gene?"

The 8th house rules deep transformation, shared finances, intimacy, and, well…death. If you have an empty 8th house, does this mean you’re boring and no sexual life? (Spoiler: No.)

It means you’re not haunted by existential crises 24/7 (lucky you). You go through major transformations, but you’re not obsessing over the meaning of life while waiting for your Starbucks order.

You might have a healthy approach to power and intimacy—unlike people with a crowded 8th house, who experience life like a dramatic phoenix constantly combusting.

Empty 9th House -House of Travel, Higher Learning & ‘I’m Moving to Bali’

"Am I allergic to wisdom and adventure?"

This is the house of philosophy, wanderlust, and that one friend who quit their job to find themselves in another country. But if your 9th house is empty, are you doomed to stay in one place forever?

It means you don’t need a crisis to push you into adventure. You explore life when you want, not because a planet is forcing you into a life-changing backpacking trip.

Your beliefs and perspectives expand over time—you just don’t feel the need to become a monk overnight.

Empty 10th House - House of Career, Public Image & ‘Will I Ever Be Successful?’

"Am I a failure?"

An empty 10th house does not mean you’ll spend your life jobless, unknown, or forever stuck in an unpaid internship from hell. The 10th house rules career and legacy, but an empty one means…you don’t obsess over it 24/7.

You can be highly successful—you just don’t need planets constantly pushing you into an identity crisis about it. Your MC ruler tells the real story of your career path.

Some of the most successful people have an empty 10th house—because they’re too busy succeeding to stress over it.

Empty 11th House - House of Friendships, Social Circles & ‘Am I Cool?’

"Do I have no friends?"

An empty 11th house does not mean you’re a loner or the social equivalent of a tumbleweed. You have friends. You just don’t need a cosmic hype squad of planets managing your social life.

It means you don’t rely on social validation to exist. Your friendships are natural and not built on constant drama and chaos.

You attract the right people without forcing it. You don’t need to collect acquaintances like Pokémon cards—you value quality over quantity.

Empty 12th House - House of the Subconscious, Dreams & ‘Main Character in a Spiritual Awakening’

"Am I just…normal?"

If your 12th house is empty, does this mean you lack spiritual depth, psychic visions, and tragic poet energy? Nope. You’re just not drowning in existential dread 24/7, unlike those with a packed 12th house (send them love, they need it).

You’re not haunted by past-life trauma every time Mercury retrogrades. You connect with your spirituality in a way that’s natural and not overwhelming.

Your spiritual growth is steady and not tied to constant suffering. (Honestly, be grateful.)

🌟 Instead of asking ‘What am I lacking?’ ask ‘Where do I flow naturally?’ 🔍 Look at the ruling planet of each empty house—that’s your real guide. 🔥 Transits activate empty houses, so life will still spice things up when needed!

So, next time someone gasps at your empty 7th house (“Oh no, you’ll never find love!”), just laugh—because joke’s on them, you’re living a drama-free life.

Want to understand what your birth chart really says about you? DM me for a reading, and let’s decode your cosmic blueprint together! 🔮✨

[deansbeer]

friendship in the sun ・ BABY!DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

୨୧ synopsis. you meet baby dean at the playground and share your snacks, and unknowingly become his first real friend.

୨୧ warning(s). fluff | slight angst | mentions of neglect (fuck john winchester) | implied emotional burden | light apprehension (baby!dean was nervous he'd be left out) — i might have missed some warnings, so do let me know !

୨୧ word count. 1.1k

୨୧ kari notes. currently sobbing over this and what bree is sending me about what is to come soon for starlight … my chest physically aches (is that even possible + i hit my vape too hard earlier) and feels so SO heavy rn. do not hate me i promise it does have some cuteness to it <3

the sun is warm against your skin, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and melting popsicles. kids are running across the playground, screaming and laughing, their sneakers kicking up dust from the wood chips beneath the swings.

you're in the middle of a game of tag, your legs pumping as you run, breathless and giggling, dodging outstretched hands. the world is simple, bright, and full of endless fun—until you hear a small voice behind you.

"can i play too?"

you turn around and see a boy, about your age, standing a few feet away. he's got short blonde hair, green eyes that are wide and hopeful, and a pair of scuffed-up sneakers that have clearly seen better days. he looks a little nervous, like he’s expecting you to say no.

but you love making new friends.

"yeah!" you beam, nodding excitedly. "you can be it first!"

the boy grins, the nervousness melting off his face, and before he can say anything else, one of the other kids taps his arm and yells, "tag, you're it!" before sprinting away.

he lets out a genuine laugh and takes off running after them, and just like that, he's part of the game, part of your world.

you find out his name is dean.

as you both climb onto the swings, kicking your legs to go higher and higher, he tells you about his baby brother, sam.

"he's two," he says proudly, gripping the chains of the swing as he leans back, letting the wind rush past his face. "he's real small, but he's super smart. like, i think he’s gonna be a genius or somethin'."

you smile at that, loving the way his face lights up when he talks about his little brother.

"i have a baby sister," you tell him, slowing your swing down until your sneakers drag against the dirt. "she's really tiny, though. like, just a few weeks old. my mom says she can be a handful sometimes."

"bet she cries a lot," dean says, wrinkling his nose.

"yeah, but she's cute," you shrug. "sometimes i help my mom with her. i hold her bottle and stuff."

dean looks thoughtful, like he's tucking that information away for later. like maybe he'll try that with sam next time.

after a while, you start to feel tired, so you reach over and grab dean's hand, tugging him toward the bench where your mom is sitting. she's got your baby sister on her shoulder, gently patting her back, and she smiles when she sees you.

"you hungry, sweetheart?" she asks, already reaching for your pink lunchbox—the one with flowers and disney princess stickers all over it.

you nod, plopping down on the bench, and pat the spot next to you. dean hesitates for a second before sitting down, his little hands resting awkwardly in his lap as he watches you open your lunchbox.

"look what i got!" you say excitedly, pulling out each item one by one. "fruit snacks, a pudding cup, cookies, and—" you pause for dramatic effect, "a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!"

dean watches you with a small pout, his lips pressing together as his stomach rumbles. he looks away quickly, like maybe if he ignores it, you won't notice.

but you do notice.

"what was that?" you ask, tilting your head.

"nothin’," he says quickly. "you're probably hearin' things."

you frown, glancing at your sandwich before looking back at him. he's trying to act like it's no big deal, but at six years old, you already have enough intuition to know.

he probably doesn't eat much at home.

you don't say anything about it, though. you just take your sandwich—cut into two perfect triangles—and hold one half out to him with a small smile, a gap where your front tooth used to be showing.

"here, you can have this one."

dean's eyes widen slightly, and he glances around—like he's making sure no one, especially his dad, is watching—before reaching out and taking it.

"thanks," he mumbles, looking a little shy, but also really, really grateful.

you just nod, opening up your pudding cup while he takes a bite of the sandwich.

after a moment, you pull out your cookies and push them toward him, too.

"you can have some if you want."

dean looks at you like you just handed him the best gift in the world, and after another quick glance around, he takes one.

you both sit there, swinging your legs, eating peanut butter and jelly and cookies, and passing your red gatorade-filled pink sippy cup back and forth. most kids might think it's weird to share a drink, or to drink out of something so pink, but dean doesn't care.

he just likes being here with you.

likes that, for once, he doesn't feel left out.

the sun starts to dip lower, casting golden light over the playground, and your mom calls for you to start wrapping it up.

"five more minutes!" you call back, grabbing dean's hand and pulling him toward the jungle gym.

you both squeeze in as much playtime as you can, climbing, laughing, chasing each other around—until a deep voice cuts through the air.

"dean!"

dean stops in his tracks, his little shoulders going stiff. you turn to see a man standing near the parking lot, holding a small toddler in his arms. sam, you guess.

"c'mon, kid, we gotta go," his dad says, adjusting sam on his hip.

dean looks at you, a little disappointed, but you just smile and take his hand again.

"let's go."

you walk with him toward his dad, your fingers still laced together, and when you reach them, you let go just long enough to lean in and press a tiny kiss to dean's cheek.

"bye, dean!" you chirp, giving him a big, toothy grin before running back to your mom.

dean just stands there for a second, blinking, his face suddenly very warm.

he doesn't even realize he's touching his cheek until his dad makes a noise—something halfway between amusement and impatience.

"c'mon, romeo," john mutters, shifting sam in his arms as he turns toward the impala.

dean frowns, his stomach sinking as he trudges behind him.

"gonna need you to watch sam tonight," john says, not looking back. "got a routine hunt to do."

dean doesn't say anything.

he just glances back—just once—to see you climbing into the backseat of your mom’s car, your baby sister still nestled against her shoulder.

you catch his eye and wave.

he waves back.

and then he climbs into the impala, sam curled up against his side, already half-asleep.

the warmth of your hand still lingers in his.

the taste of peanut butter and jelly still sticks to his tongue.

and for the first time in a long time, he thinks maybe—just maybe—he might have a real friend.

៸៸៸ special tags. @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @beausling @aileenunfiltered @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @dollyfiles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @chris444evr @deanswidow @voidsuites @jasvtsc @cowboysandcigarettes @stereotypicalbarbie

[hugheshischier4313]

YOU MISS HIM DON'T YOU | Q. HUGHES

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Quinn Hughes x fem!reader 

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | Emotional cheating (not on Quinn),  angst, fluff, oblivious!reader and Quinn, soft!Quinn, neighbors-to-lovers, reader x OC (Andrew, reader's boyfriend), alcohol, flirting. 

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Months into your friendship with Quinn the two of you finally admit to what's been there all along. 

 🎧 Playlist | 📷 Pinterest Board

Based on a scene in Season 3 of Desperate Housewives (No spoilers in the writing. Bolded words are quoted from the show): “Don't tell me nothing happened. We’ve been fighting over this all week. You miss him, don't you?”

𝗪/𝗖 | 6.8K

𝗔/𝗡 | hi lovelies, thank you for being patient with me for the full fic of this idea. The lines indicate time jumps, they jump back and forth to different scenarios of reader and Quinn through the time they have spent together. I absolutely love these two and this idea and I couldn't find a perfect ending. I rewrote multiple endings and ultimately decided to just make a part two when I finally figure it out. Hope you enjoy, love ya!

It had been a wonderful night, the wine glass in your hand still full, the bottle sitting on the coffee table. The random episode of Bob's Burgers in the background forgotten, adding nothing more than a soft glow to the room. As you sat there listening to Quinn talk about his summer back in Michigan, you found yourself examining him. The way his eyes roam the room as he speaks, the smiles before he lets out a laugh and the way his hands run through his hair occasionally.

"You should have visited, even for just a weekend. You would have thought this was way more entertaining if you were there." Quinn teased as he finished his story. You pushed down the feeling of guilt as you smiled back at him, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I wouldn't have let you live it down if I had been there. So it's probably for the best," You teased back, but the truth was you had wanted to visit Quinn over the off-season, but when the time came, life had another plan.

_________________________________

"You should come down for the week. The sunrise and sunset alone would make the trip worth it. Imagine spending your week off by the lake, a beautiful sky for you to take pictures of. I can send you a ticket, just say the word." As the smile crept onto your face, so did the slightest tinge of pink. You had been putting away groceries when your AirPods had read the message out loud. Quinn had a habit of making fun of your love for the sky. Always calling you out, shrieking, 'The sky is so pretty' like you had repeatedly done (in a terrible attempt to match your voice). You swear you could hear it through the text despite him being over 2,000 miles apart. 

When Andrew's call came through, you found your phone and typed the text about sending it. "Y/N! I got it, I got the promotion!" His voice came booming out, and the excitement was evident in his voice. "Congratulations, Andrew!" you reciprocated his excitement. "And what better time than before you have a week off. I was thinking of going away for the week, maybe Banff? I'll rent us the cabin we had when we went last time." He kept ranting, too excited to keep anything in, but his voice was drowned out by the thought of Quinn. 

"I have to go, but I'll send you the flight information later tonight. I can't wait to see you." Andrews's voice didn't falter, almost like he was on autopilot, just rambling what he knew to say. They exchanged their quick goodbyes before he hung up. 

As if to taunt you, the next sound into your ear was' NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN 'Or even just for the weekend if you have other plans for your week off.' As you looked back down at the phone and saw the unset message,  'A whole week of sunset pictures? Count me in Q'; the thought of deleting it weighed heavily on you. 

The truth was you had truly missed Quinn this summer. You had moved to Vancouver for grad school in the fall, and as luck would have it, Quinn lived in the apartment next to you. In the past 10 months, you had known each other; the only time you hadn't seen each other was when he had away games. And even then, when he returned, he made it up to you by devoting time to be with you. He bought you a postcard from all the cities he played in, and you had them displayed on your fridge. He signed all of them after the few glasses of wine you shared after one of his longer roadies.

You had (in your tipsy state) jokingly told him to sign one so you could sell them if he ever decided to be a jerk to you. And as he did, you knew you could never sell them; they meant too much to you. He had made a joke about writing nonsense on them to lower the value if you tried. Over the off-season, you found yourself religiously turning them over to look at his little notes, his penmanship holding inside jokes that you held dear to your heart.

As you stood there staring at the postcards on your fridge, thinking of the brunette, you couldn't help but feel the guilt in your chest. The nagging thought that your friendship with Quinn may not be as platonic as the two of you acted.

Why were you standing there thinking of another man when you were just on the phone with your boyfriend? You hadn't and would never cheat on Andrew, but the world seemed to disappear when you were with Quinn. Time slipped by faster, and you longed to sit on a couch with him again.

And at that moment, it had become apparent that you no longer had a choice; you had to choose between the two men, Andrew or Quinn? But then again, it wasn't really a choice between the men; it was a choice between right and wrong.

'Sorry Quinn, I can't this week. Take lots of pictures for me. Can't wait to see them when you're back.' Send. It was vague, and you knew he could send them to you whenever, but you also knew that, at least for this week, he couldn't be your primary focus. You needed to focus on your partner and his accomplishments.

_________________________________

As you had sat in a surprisingly unpopulated section of the airport for a Friday night, you haphazardly skipped through Instagram stories until you were faced with Quinn's private story of him on the boat with his friends. You had no reason, or right, to be this upset, but as you looked at the sunset on the picture's horizon, you couldn't stop yourself from hitting the call button. 

The phone barely rang once before you heard his voice, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Hey, I was j-" His voice was laced with exhaustion as if whatever physical activity he was doing was still fresh. And you found yourself more clam than you had been in days. Oh, how you had missed his voice.

"Are you upset with me?" The words were rushed and tumbled out before you could comprehend the repercussions. You knew that now was not the time to be having this discussion. You were sitting in the corner seats at the airport, waiting for your plane to begin boarding. But it had been two days since that last message you sent, and you had heard nothing from Quinn.

You had been a little hurt when you spent all of Thursday waiting for a response from the brunette. He had never taken more than a few hours to respond to you, which is why you had given him the benefit of the doubt that Wednesday night after you sent the last message. But now that you had spent the entirety of your workday contemplating writing a new message, you were upset, and the Insta story had only added fuel to the fire.  

"No, of course not. Why?" His voice was genuine and calm, a nice contrast to the loud background on both sides of the phone. You figured he was still on the boat with his friends. "Oh, I just figured you were upset since I haven't heard from you." You felt stupid for calling and continuing to talk despite it being obvious he wasn't alone. "But I'll let you go; sorry for calling." you hit the red button before you had time to overthink. Your voice had become weak, and you hated that you were taking time away from him and the time he had to spend with his friends and family.

You had the overwhelming feeling to cry, but you didn't know if it was because of guilt for Andrew or Quinn or because any doubts you had that Quinn was mad at you had disappeared. NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN: 'Give me 10 minutes, I'll call you back'. The message held an inevitable dominance over it; there was no question that it was a conversation that had to happen, and it had to happen now. 

_________________________________

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future."  The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner. 

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch. 

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different color every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed. 

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend. 

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over. 

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice,  it made you freeze. Andrew he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around. 

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn. 

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand. 

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door. 

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

_________________________________

"Hey," his voice was clear despite the pixilated quality of his Facetime call. He was wearing a white T-shirt, his hair was wet, and he had a look on his face you had never seen. "Hey Q," your pulse felt overwhelming as if anyone who looked at you could see it throbbing against your neck. "Are you having a good time back home?" It was a buffer; you didn't know what Quinn wanted to say, and judging by the look on his face, you weren't sure you wanted to.

"Andrew called me." His voice was blunt, direct to the point, despite the few seconds he stared at you, hesitating to continue. "He asked if I was sleeping with you." His eyes held yours while the rest of his face had no expression. "What?" The nervous laughter that filled the air around you was nothing more than a way to suppress the hurt and anger of this new confession.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Quinn. I don't know why he's been so paranoid lately. It seems like he misinterprets everything I mention to him as something else." For the last two months, you had known that Andrew suspected your friendship with Quinn was something more. He had brought it up the last time he was in Vancouver and again over the phone a few weeks ago (although it had been in retaliation to the question you had asked him about the girl with him in a video his friend had posted on their story). 

"Did he misinterpret it, or did he just see what is obvious that you and I can't admit?" The question was loaded with truths that weren't meant to come out. The look that the two of you shared through the screen had only confirmed it. In a split second, months of ignorance had led to a confession when the two of you were thousands of miles apart.

His breathing was heavy; you could hear it through the phone; he had a look on his face that closely resembled his look when his team lost in the Playoffs. It was the look you saw in the mirror this morning when you had not heard from him. It was the split-second look he had in the lobby the day Andrew surprised you.

Everything playing in your head; all the nights he would knock at your apartment after a game with a box of food, the way you would pack him an 'after-game snack' consisting of oranges, a granola bar and a fruit snack (which he teased you about until you mentioned it was like they did in little leagues), the way your breath hitches every time he gets shoved or falls. 

All the times, the two of you had gone for a drive when life felt too heavy, and you shared secrets you had never told anyone before. The way he took off your makeup when you had gone out one night or how he knows your coffee order for every cafe you go to. Quinn and you had been in the in-between since you first hung out. 

"I mean, how long are we going to pretend like nothing is happening?" His voice was calm and demanding, with a hint of subdued anger or annoyance you hadn't picked up. "Quinn, I -" You were at a loss for words; nothing could genuinely capture how Quinn had made you feel. 

You knew you were safe with Quinn around, not only in a physical sense but emotionally. The way he made you feel heard and seen. The two of you were floating in two separate worlds, but the weight that engulfed you was the same. You understood the complication of pressure and leadership; you understood needing to be the most prominent presence in the room, even if you weren't the loudest. You understood the pressure of wanting, no needing, to be the best for everyone else even if it tore you apart. 

It was all those things and more that drove you together, the ability to soothe the ache the buildup of burden had left sacred on the two of you. When you felt a crushing weight on you, the only thing that could alleviate it was being around the man who had quickly become your best friend. Immediately, he knew whether you needed to just sit and cry while he comforted you or go for a drive so you could yell out lyrics or if you needed him to just talk about mundane things.

And you do the same; you knew by the way he left the ice, by the way, he knocked on the door, by the way, he walked down the hallway toward your apartments. You knew when to go over to him so he could catch the recaps, and you knew when to invite him to yours to force him to ignore the criticism. You knew that even after a winning streak or after a goal, he needed comfort, understanding the overwhelming feeling of the slightest reprieve until the next game.

And the honest truth was that you had pushed back any romantic feelings because you knew without a doubt he was your person. You had never been one for friendship with men, and when your friends asked about what you could have in common with a professional hockey player, you never knew what to tell them. Because from every book, movie, series and scenario you knew, as cliche as it was, the only quote that could describe what the two of you shared was, 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' 

"Y/N, please." His voice was barely above a whisper, a plea to say anything. "It doesn't have to change anything. I just need to know; I didn't mean to hurt you; I tried to give you space. I've tried to respect your relationship." He had been ignoring you to avoid hurting your relationship, and in the process, the two of you were the only ones who were hurt. "Quinn." There was only one way you could describe it: "You consume me." Despite the tears that fell, you stared at him through the phone, wishing he was there with you, wishing your plane was going to Michigan. 

"Now boarding flight-" The announcement couldn't have come at a worse time; there was so much to say, and an airport right before boarding was not ideal. "That's my flight." You wiped your tears as you stared at the man on the screen. "Y/N, I'm sorry for bringing this up now; it's not my best moment." he was trying to cheer you up; he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. "Quinn, I don't know what to do," your voice was a quiet plea to understand what was to come.

"Given everything that was said and that we're in two different countries right now, I think we should take some time to digest. I know you're spending time with him, and I don't want you to feel overwhelmed. I think we should take the next week or two." your heart was breaking, but your mind knew that was the best option. And for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, you thought of Andrew, and the slight tinge of annoyance arose again. 

Quinn must have noticed because he was quick to interject his following comment with the most sincere look, "But before you go, I just need you to know that you consume me too." He had his signature half smile as he continued, "You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. I think about you constantly. I think about you when I look at the sky, when I'm practicing with my brothers, when I go out with friends and when I lie in bed. I watch for you in the crowd during warm-ups. You've become one of my favourite people so quickly, and I'm so glad of all the apartments in the city, or even just in the building; you moved into the one next to mine." 

You smiled as the tears fell; if there had ever been any doubt, you now knew for sure that Quinn was your person. "I'll be forever grateful that the universe brought me to you too." And with a quick goodbye and promise to reach out in two weeks, you were in your seat on the plane. 

Your mind racing with thoughts of Quinn and the revelations that had come to light and then again to Andrew. You didn't know why, but your annoyance was morphing into slight anger, the idea that he had called Quinn and accused him of sleeping with you. What annoyed you more was that he had done that and hadn't mentioned it to you. He hadn't mentioned the idea of your friendship with Quinn being something more since that one phone call a little over a month ago. 

You sat with that feeling for the rest of the flight. 

_________________________________

"Okay, fine, you are mad at me! But name one thing that I have done to deserve it!" Andrew was standing on the opposite side of the room. His breathing was heavy as he ran a hand through his hair. "You called Quinn." your voice was laced with a hint of sadness and betrayal. The statement was simple and direct but held a meaning that both of you knew would change everything. 

The argument had started with something so small: the two of you walking on eggshells the past few days and your passive-aggressive comments when he mentioned anything related to Vancouver. Over the past few days, you had tried to get Andrew to admit to calling Quinn; he wasn't stupid; he had connected the dots and was simply choosing to ignore it (which infuriated you even more). The days dragged on; waking up and getting ready in silence, spending the day exploring, trying to avoid long conversations at all costs, getting ready for bed with few words and getting into bed facing away from each other. 

Andrew's response had taken a second longer than it should have. His hesitation made it clear that he was surprised by the direct approach, almost as if he hadn't thought you would say anything.  "You're damn right I did, I've seen the messages, the glances, the pictures. What was I supposed to do? Pretend that nothing was going on?" His voice was slightly louder as his eyes narrowed on you. 

"Nothing was going on. He never touched me." you raised your voice, but the words weakened. Your hands were flailing around, trying to emphasize your point.  The tears behind your eyes aching to be let free. It was too much, and you knew the implications of your words. This time, however, Andrew didn't hesitate to answer; his reply, even louder than before, came out the second you were done talking. "And I wasn't gonna sit around and wait until he did."  

The two of you stood there staring at each other, chests heaving, eyes full of emotion. You sat on the counter stool beside you before looking away from Andrew and placing your head in your hands, elbows propped on the counter. You heard his footsteps getting closer, and soon, Andrew was pulling out the stool next to you. 

You glanced at him from your peripheral view; he was staring at the kitchen in front of him, a look of contemplation on his face. "Do you have feelings for him, Y/N?" you diverted your eyes back to the counter. The question caught you off guard, "Hmm?" you could feel his eyes on you again, but you couldn't gain the strength to look up. "Do you have feelings for Quinn?" Each word was emphasized by the slight pause he took between them. 

Although you couldn't meet his eyes, you mustered enough courage to look up from your hands towards the kitchen. "I would never cheat on you, you know that." you shook your head as you said it, knowing it wasn't the answer he sought. "That's not what I asked." you wanted to look at him, to tell him he was all you wanted, that there was nothing between you and Quinn, but that wasn't the truth, and all you could do was continue the slight head shake you had started. 

Andrew didn't say anything for a bit, but you could hear the sound of his movement as he repositioned himself on the stool and leaned closer to you. "Did you fall for him?" His voice was softer and more quiet, slightly above a whisper. You tried to speak, but the tears beat you. As the tears left your eyes, you looked towards Andrew. His eyes were glued on the fridge, his expression hurt, and his eyes held a slight gloss. "Oh god," he was avoiding eye contact with you now. 

You stared at him a moment longer, trying to calm down, "Nothing happened." your voice was shakier than it had been all night, and the tone held no conviction. He turned his head slightly, the two of you locking eyes. "Don't tell me nothing happened. We've been fighting over this all week." He turned away before he even finished his sentence. Your tears continued, "You miss him, don't you?" The look on his face had hardened, but his voice remained the same. He knew the answer; it had been evident every time he called you, and you were alone or when he would try to call, only to be met with a text saying you were on the phone but would call him back. 

You kept your eyes on him; the guilt weighed heavy on you. The implication of every choice you had made since the first interaction with Quinn ran through your mind. You couldn't put your thoughts into words or rationalize your feelings. "I'm sorry." It wasn't even a valid answer, but it was all you could think of. Your emotions were running too high, and you needed a breather. He leaned back on the stool and let out a breath, but a few tears trickled down as he did. "Damn" His voice was barely audible; if you hadn't been looking at him or if the room hadn't been so quiet, you would have missed it. 

_________________________________

It hadn't been your intention to end things with Andrew that way. Despite all the issues the two of you shared, you didn't want to hurt him. When you talked everything through the following morning you both knew the relationship had been over longer than either of you cared to admit.  It had been as civil as a breakup could be, and the guilt that had once overwhelmed you started to blur.

As you looked out the plane window and saw Vancouver, you felt the missing pieces of you start to come together. It was strange how life finds a way to bring you exactly where you need to be. Accepting your graduate program at The University of British Columbia led you to a weekend of exploring and apartment hunting in Vancouver. You had found your apartment complex by accident; you had been lost looking for another building when your eyes landed on it. The large winders on every floor practically shoved you into the lobby, and when you applied, only one unit was available for your expected move-in date. It had been a long shot, and somehow you ended up winning. 

You could recall the sound of a car pulling into the attached parking garage as you pulled a box out of your trunk, unintentionally knocking down a pillow in all the commotion. As you bent down to pick it up, you could hear the car door open and close before hearing a few footsteps. They stopped as you located your missing pillow; as you stood back up, you turned to find the stranger but found yourself searching for Andrew after hearing his voice. As you stood there waiting for him to grab another box, you looked towards the elevator and saw the stranger standing there. You couldn't see his face; he was just a blur of brunette hair and a gray outfit as the doors closed, and although you couldn't make out all his facial features, you could have sworn you saw him give you a smile before the doors closed completely. And before you even had a chance, Quinn captured your attention. And unbeknownst to you then, you had made a lasting impression on him, too. 

As you stared at the city, music in your ears, in the back of the Uber home, you could see every moment you and Quin shared. Every mundane moment, from knocking on his door in the morning with breakfast bagels and coffee to drunk conversations in the back of a car after a night out celebrating to sitting in either of your living rooms watching a movie with your commentary. It was like watching a montage scene, and it felt freeing because, for the first time, there was the possibility for something more. The feeling of longing had been hidden underneath your guilt, coming hand in hand, and now both were gone, instead replaced with something positive. 

"Miss, you have a package." The voice of your building's concierge brings you back to reality. It was a relatively wide rectangular box; you hadn't ordered anything that would come in a box of that size, which fueled your curiosity even more. "Thank you." You smiled and offered a kind goodbye before walking to the elevator. 

Without hesitation, another image of Quinn flew into your mind as the elevator doors closed. The first time you spoke was in the elevator up to your floor. He smiled, encouraged you to enter the elevator first, and asked if you needed help with your box despite carrying his bag. However,  after declining his offer, he made no other effort to continue the conversation. The two of you casually glanced at each other as the doors closed, waiting for the movement to begin, but when it didn't, you looked over to the right side of the door and laughed slightly. "What floor do you need?" he asked with a slight chuckle. "Sixteenth, please." You returned his chuckle and smiled. You watched as he clicked the sixteenth button but no other. "Are you on the same floor?" You could hear excitement in your voice, but you pushed it down. "Yeah, guess that means we're neighbour neighbours" Once again, that damn smile felt contagious; he felt contagious. 

When you reached your floor, you found yourself walking faster than usual to reach your door. It had only been a week; somehow, everything was completely different yet utterly the same. You walked into the apartment and set the package down on the counter, needing to know what was inside. Opening the lid, you are met with the most beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers. There were different shades of your favourite colour, layering beautifully on each other, but what caught your eyes was the distinct blue rose in the middle, an envelope sitting directly on top. 

The envelope had your name written on it with the handwriting you had come to memorize. Inside was a postcard from Michigan, "Y/N, I can't get you out of my head. Only two more weeks left before I'm back in Van, and I can't wait to see you again. I found this while I was out, and it reminded me of you.   -Q" You held the card close to you for a second; it had the faintest mix of florals and Quinn's cologne. You looked at the fridge before deciding to keep the note in your room. It felt intimate, something you wanted to keep between you. Something caught your eye when you took the flowers out of the box and into a vase. Inside the envelope was a small plastic bag; you reached for it and found a necklace. 

A delicate chain with a small pendant with a sun and a moon, and when you turned it over, your breathing hitched; there was a small 43 engraved. When you read the note, you assumed the postcard was what he had seen, but it was the necklace. He had seen a necklace encompassing the sun and moon, something you were passionate about, and he had added something personal. The engraving must have been something he did; the probability that it had been done in manufacturing was slim to none, making it all the more special. You put it on and never wanted to take it off. 

You grabbed the postcard off the counter and lifted it closer to your chest before taking a close-up picture from your lips to showcase the necklace and postcard, "I'm thinking about you too. To the longest two weeks that will ever exist. To the sun and the moon and back." And as you hit the send button, you couldn't help but think about what was yet to come.  

_________________________________

[thydungeongal]

Hi! Yours and @vixensdungeon's posting about how it is cool to take a bunch of your stupid little guys, and throw them in a stupid big dungeon, and then roll on some big stupid tables, shake it all, and see if they live and what kind of treasure they can pull out without much regard for "narrative arcs" or whatever has today inspired me to grab an OSR-style rulebook at my local store. (Black Powder and Brimstone, if you're curious, apparently it's very hot off the presses).

Now, your posting was enough of an inspiration for me to get the general vibe, but to my ass that hasn't actually fun anything more lightweight than Blades in the Dark, can you give some practical tips on how to run this sort of game/system that's more focused on emergent play than complex rules toys and GM curation?

So, this is just a grab-bag of advice about running games in this style:

As you have identified, these games have fewer rules toys for players to interact with. Black Powder and Brimstone is apparently based on the rules of Mörk Borg so if I remember my Mörk Borg correctly what it does give you is a very broad framework of handling things that carry risk. These games tend to have fewer rules in the style of "if a character rolls this number they get to do a cool thing," and more often in the style of "if a character does this thing they have to roll or bad things happen." Ability checks and saves and so on are more often tools for managing risk: because characters can't reliably push the buttons on their character sheet to avoid danger, you might want to communicate to your players openly that avoiding danger more often boils down to a question of choice. As Mausritter puts it, "the dice are your enemy, a good plan doesn't require dice."

That said, you as a GM want to allow your players to make informed choices. Many newer OSR/NSR adventures are really good a this, adding sights and sounds and smells coming in from other directions to their room descriptions so that player characters have some idea of what to expect and can thus make informed decisions.

A forgotten part of the tradition of D&D and its old-school editions are player roles, and while I am personally very bad at enforcing these roles, they can make your job as a GM so much easier. You as a GM are already bringing the game, and while OSR/NSR games are often on the simpler side to GM you absolutely should divvy up some of the work between your players. The most common player roles are caller and mapper, the caller being the player who communicates what the party is doing to you (this reduces the mental overhead of having to take input from multiple people while keeping everything together) and the mapper being the player who draws the map (the latter may be unnecessary if you have an easy way to share maps with your players, but as @vixensdungeon will tell you, even if you can share maps there is a joy to be found in players accidentally drawing a shitty map and getting fucked because of it).

Prewritten modules are your friend. While it is absolutely fun to design your own dungeons and I heartily recommend trying it at some point, there is something to a module that has been written by someone who has no way of knowing your party composition and what tools they can bring to an adventure, and then seeing the party try to navigate that adventure. Also, they are a fantastic prep-saving tool.

[myfandomrealitea]

I hate how seriously fandom is taken nowadays. ESPECIALLY SHIPPING.

Im a neutral shipper and block the things that make me uncomfortable, and try not to engage in shipcourse, but the way seemingly everyone and their mother brings up shipping discourse in an unrelated conversation makes me want to tear my hair out.

" [artist] also drew fictional [incest, pedophilia, zoo, etc] so we should all be aware " who cares? Just let me look at my two favs kissing.

Its exhausting how many times the pro vs anti debate is brought up, especially if you dont want anything to do with it. Let me have my fun gosh darnit

As a society we have forgotten the freedom of creation and the disconnect between thoughts and actions. We're so focused on what is "actually bad" and we're so terrified of not being a "bad person" that its killing art, creativity and healthy outlets.

We're now expected to comb through years of people's internet presence to make sure they're not "evil" or "bad" and 52 fucking Carrd pages just to find out if we can reblog their low-quality stolen moodboards.

I absolutely hate to sound like one of Those People but I simply do not fucking care. If you're an anti and you don't want me engaging, fine. We can block each other. Problem solved. But that's about as much effort as I'm willing to extend. If there's information you want me to know it should be simple and easy to find. If I can't find it in 1-2 clicks, I don't care, its obviously not important, and I'm not going to waste my time going on a hunt for it.

If you DM me to tell me someone draws age gap incest or something equally non-consequential, especially if you're hiding behind the anon button, I promise you, your message goes straight on the trash and you straight on the block list.

Fandom is a creative community space. It is not an activism space. It is not an approval space. Its for me to yell about continuity errors in Yellowstone and draw two men kissing. I don't care if some random user I reblogged a post from 6 months ago ships incest or doesn't tip.

[writer-logbook]

How did I improve my writing style... without actually writing.

Intro : It's just a clickbait title to talk about theory and side techniques - before actually practicing, of course.

LINGUISTIC ISN'T GRAMMAR - AND IT'S BETTER TO KNOW ABOUT BOTH. It's useful for writing impactful dialogue and giving your characters depth. Your characters' language should (ideally) take into account: their social position (rich or poor), the locality (local expressions?) and sometimes their age (different cultural references). And this is best transcribed with linguistic knowledge. In short: linguistics is descriptive, grammar is prescriptive.

The areas of linguistic analysis are syntax (rules governing the structure of sentences),  semantics (meaning),  morphology (structure of words), phonetics (speech sounds and equivalent gestures in sign languages), phonology (the abstract sound system of a particular language, and analogous systems of sign languages), and pragmatics (how the context of use contributes to meaning). (Linguistics, Wikipedia)

Literary theory isn't as boring as it sounds. Learn more about internal criteria of the text (figure of speech, style, aesthetic...) and external criteria of the text (the author's persona and responsability, the role of the reader and what is left to interpretation...). I refer you to the French Wikipedia page, which you can translate directly via your browser in case you need more information. (Make sure you translate the page not switch language, because the content isn't the same).

Listening to Youtube Video about the analysis of film sequences and/or scenario. Remember when I told you to read historical fiction to learn how to describe a castle properly ? Same vibe.

Novel adaptations of movies. = when the movie exists before the book, and not the other way around. e.g : The Shape of Water ; Pan's Labyrinth. In line with tip n°3, it allows us to see how emotions, scenes and descriptions have been translated into writing - and thus to better visualize concepts that may have been abstract.

Read books about authors' writing experiences. e.g : Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Everyone's different, but they can provide some insightful tips not only on the act of writing itself, but on the environment conducive to writing, planning… Comparing completely different authors' experience could also be fun (this video of King and Martin is actually one of my fav)

Ah and many thanks for your ❤ and reblogs on my latest post ! UwU

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Bunny I just finished watching Jumper and I'm obsessed??? 😭 I could only find like, 3 fics about David (yours included, i loved it btw ✋🏻😞) so I thought about requesting something from my favorite writer

I don't have any specific idea so I guess I'll take anything. Here's Leia the egg as an offering 🫴🏻🥚

Luv ya - 🦢

STOLEN BY A JUMPER..

PAIRING: david rice x thief!reader

You were stupid for not seeing him coming.

One second, you were standing in the middle of a private vault, fingers skillfully working over the golden lock of a case that held something very expensive—something you had been paid a lot of money to steal, to bring back to the ugly-ass man that made sure to stuff your bank account full of cash.

Well, what happened the next?

Your stomach lurched, vision suddenly blurred as you felt like you were literally floating in sleep, like you just got hit in the head, and before you could even think about screaming, you were somewhere else. With a painful sigh that echoed from your pounding head, you brought yourself to open your eyes, trying to at least adjust them to the situation, trying to use them as your source of information. Because as y/n, you weren't known for being defeated so fast.

A cabin. Remote. Quiet. Four walls. Dim lamps lighting the space. And standing in front of you, looking thoroughly unimpressed, was the man who had just ripped you from your own goddamn reality.

DAVID RICE; tall (for someone who made you see red), broad shoulders framed by that worn leather jacket, dark hair, sharp blue eyes piercing you in half like you were a problem he was debating how to solve.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth, a little mocking. “You must have some serious balls, sweetheart.”

Pulse thundered in your ears, but you tried your expression cool. Calm. You didn’t survive in this business by panicking. You had to think. It's not like you meet a freak for the first time.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” you lied.

David’s jaw only clenched more, before a flash of irritation crossed his face. “Try again,” he said, stepping closer. Too close. “You broke into my vault. My money. My shit.” gaze flickered down to the duffel still clutched in your hand. “And you were gonna walk away with it like I wouldn’t notice?”

You lifted your chin with more confidence and energy this time, fingers tightening its hold over the bag. “Finders keepers.”

How you should know it was a bad move..

David moved fast—faster than any normal man should probably be able to. One second, he was in front of you, the next he was behind you, hand fisting in your jacket before the world tilted again—

You were falling.

The cold air whipped at your skin, your eyes widening at the clouds that passed you by, at the sharp nibbling the wind did to your skin. You barely had a second to process the fact that you were free-falling through the goddamn sky before—

thud

You landed hard on a rooftop, your side slamming into the concrete. Your breath ripped from your lungs, the impact jarring, disorienting, your world twirling..

You're about to throw up. You're about to throw up.

With a wince of a person who's about to lose her life, you moved your hand to where your ribs were, trying to magically smooth the painful, sharpening like a needle, pain.

And David?

He landed like nothing had happened at all.

After taking some steps towards you, he crouched, gaze sharp, smug amusement curling his lips as if your situation was even.. satisfying for him.

“That,” he said, gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to his, “was a warning.”

Your heart hammered, pulse wild, but you refused to let him see your fear. To let him see how weak you started to get. By one freaking movement of his..right..what was even that? His mind? His hands? His..how did he do that?

“So you’re a show-off,” you bit out, wrenching away from his hold. Too weakly. Too painfully. “Congratulations.”

David chuckled. Actually chuckled. “Oh, you’re fun.”

You lunged for him, intending to—what? Punch him? Tackle him? You weren’t exactly sure but everything seemed to be reasonable when you had to take care of a real piece of shit

But before you could even touch him—

The world shifted again.

You were back in the cabin.

Your knees buckled, body reeling from the constant shifts, ribs screaming at you, making you dizzy, making you choke on your own breath, but David? David just stuffed his hands into his pockets and grinned at you.

“Go ahead,” he said, watching as you steadied yourself against the wall. “Try to run.”

You glared at him, fists clenched. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

He laughed, moving towards the fridge like this was just another normal night for him. Like kidnapping you was just another thing on his to-do list for today.

Great. Just freaking great.

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing a beer. “I’ve been told.”

You watched him, mind racing, calculating, pain still flickering through your body, making sure you never forget about it. How the hell were you supposed to escape someone who could teleport?

You had no idea. But you’d be damned if you didn’t find out soon.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden

[zsakuva]

I'm sure this has been asked, but I had found your stuff recently and absolutely love how the different characters are with each being just as charming as the next. My question is what is the thought/writing process? I am wanting to be better at defining my ocs and characters without falling into the same trope and behaviors the characters have exhibit. Obviously there are different methods for different people, but I'll like to know a little bit of the process for you. Do you have any tips to make the voices distinct and consistent through out a piece of writing?

Thank you!

For me, because I have a proclivity for world-building (meaning I am absolutely obsessed and must know the lore before I do anything), I like to understand the path a character has chosen. Their past experiences and upbringing have a dramatic impact on how they shape their own life, and that informs me of how a character acts, talks, and how they both see and react to the world around them.

I'll use Isaac Rhoades as a brief example (I wrote brief but this is not brief at all, my bad xD).

From the beginning, Isaac was written with a sealed heart and a cold personality. He's an articulate and smart man, a workaholic, but he lives in solitude.

I always ask myself how and why a character is who they are, and what decisions they made/experiences they've had to bring them to this point.

For Isaac, his background paints quite the picture:

Born to loving parents, and his grandfather is a successful private investigator — The early part of his childhood nurtured love and care. His mother in particular showed him what it meant to love unconditionally.

His parents are murdered because of his grandfather's choice — Isaac was taught that even the people you love can hurt you, and that nowhere is a safe space.

Learning under his grandfather — Because of his vast portfolio and cases, Isaac is taught more about the workings of the world, and how to stay cautious. There was no space for fun or games; his only objective was expanding his knowledge in many subjects that his grandfather deemed worthy.

Getting stabbed by the maid — This reinforced the thought of a perpetual threat and the need to stay vigilant. It instilled paranoia in him to trust no one.

University in England and Andrew — Here, he remembers the love of his childhood, but also the threat of losing someone else because of his own decisions, taught by his grandfather.

Learning the reason of his grandfather's decision — Isaac was taught that there is always more to one person, for better or worse, as taught by the maid. Due to this and what he's learnt thus far, Isaac decides to seclude himself so he's never forced to make that kind of choice.

Succeeding his grandfather — Being a private investigator opened his eyes to humanity's extremes: the lengths they would go for their own desires at the detriment of others, and the yearning others had to better the world. His work reminds him of his life experiences, and these beliefs constantly clash.

Isaac is distant and cold at first because his life taught him not to trust anyone—even the unassuming—and he doesn't want to let anyone in; they could either betray him, or he could lose them. And yet, despite that, his mother's teachings managed to peek through when he saw Pickle in the alley, alluding to his true nature. Through Isaac's story, his internal struggle begins to rear: desperately wanting to feel love again, but knowing the cost if he does give in and the inevitable choice he might have to make if he opens his heart again.

Isaac is articulate and smart because of his grandfather's teachings. One can assume he stayed in that house for the rest of his teenage years until he left for university, so the only person he really interacted with was his grandfather. Because of this, he's factual, precise, and seldom makes jokes because mostly every conversation had been connected to work in some form. Small talk is a waste of time, and he doesn't indulge others unless there's a reason for it. He's meticulous with when to speak and when to listen.

Isaac is a workaholic because that is what his life has been shaped to be, also likely influenced by his grandfather. He has money, but continues to work. Why? Perhaps it's because he'd be without purpose otherwise. Or is it because he feels it's his duty to continue in his grandfather's footsteps and find the one thing that matters in the ocean of bullshit?

All of this shapes who Isaac is. It wouldn't make sense for him to have the same disposition as Andrew. Though they are similar in ways (articulation, education, work addiction), they take different forms and stem from the unique experiences they've lived. Where Andrew can engage in small talk (he had a freer childhood, a rebellious and fun twin brother, and more public school education/social interactions), Isaac can't. And though they both carry the weight of their own regrets alone, Andrew chooses to live with what he has, but Isaac chooses to endlessly bear the weight of the world and live up to his grandfather's bravery.

SO. With that being said, a suggestion I can give is to constantly remind yourself who your character is with every decision they make. Is it true to them? Does it make sense for them? But remember, humans are also notoriously contradictive, and one is not the same as another. We experience and react to the same conditions in completely different ways; who you are and what you've been through can determine the outcome.

I hope this has helped in some form of way!

Again I apologise for this monstrous post have fun writing aaaaa-

[camp-mithril-lake]

So my ideas inspired by the Ponyo Apocalypse Outlier Gang (by @keferon) since this has been a fun AU to chew on and I love the Outlier Gang + Fish Dad specifically.

Part I, because I'll do the others in a bit and don't want to lose this to Tumblr drafts.

SHOCKWAVE

Shockwave, former Senator of the Iaconus Shoal, in the sea close to Iacon the human city, is currently taking a break before for the upcoming election cycle after losing his seat to a rival due to a scandal he was exonerated for. He is actually biding his time and pretending to have gone away in disgrace, while some friends investigate rumors and leads for him and he plans to undermine his opponent.

It has however given him time to investigate the recent unnaturally accelerated changes in sea level and worries about changes in sea monster population and evolution and rapid fluctuations in weather and sea currents that Thunderwing has been writing him about.

He is going to pick up some data he'd collected and witnesses a human island be subsumed and what's more notices the strange readings and behaviors and creatures popping up. He goes to investigate and finds a bunch of human pups surviving there. They end up being violent in that way everyone assumes humans are but assist him. He in turn decides to help protect them and find a proper human caretaker for them.

Shockwave has always been a bit more curious and open about humans because he was good friends with one who he considered a teacher name Jhiaxus, who eventually vanished. He collects human devices to explore the make of and information on some of their inventions and cultures as a hobby. This is considered an eccentricity by many and I am picturing full Ariel but it is just part of his "oh handsome Senator Shockwave" persona that makes people underestimate him and is about 35% played up deliberately as a non-threatening joke while being fully serious and incorporating bits he finds useful.

Due to the language barrier the more Transformer-esque names or ones Shockwave nicknames the kids and they eventually adopt, enjoying them. Skids's is a more direct translation since he picks up the merfolk language the easiest.

TERRY BRAUM (16->17) - TRAILBREAKER

The oldest of them and has some pretty intense trauma.

He was drunk with a friend two years ago and they wrecked killing a family that was pulling out and the friend, the one who was driving, being the only one conscious when the cops came. The friend blamed him and Terry was the one who took the fall and got arrested. His life was ruined and he was devastated by the death, injuries, betrayal, and arrest back to back.

He had a single mother with a heart condition who had a heart attack and died due to the stress of his trial and subsequent sentencing. He was eventually exonerated due to the video of the crash surfacing and proof his friend was the one driving the whole time. His mother was gone by this point and he was sent into the foster system.

He has issues with confined spaces and trusting people keeping a proverbial shield around himself now. He kept drinking and broke into his foster’s liquor cabinets and got in trouble this way which got him referred to the Academy.

"SKIDS" (16) - SKIDS

He speaks a lot but not about his past and insists his name is Skids. He has a pretty gnarly scar across the back of his head covered by hair. He also doesn't talk about this and has a lot of strange skills he's built up over time.

Skids had a seemingly good life with a very attentive mother, but knew there was something off. He was homeschooled because his mother moved a lot for work and it was both seemingly normal things like literature, math, basic science, history, but also stranger topics: weapons safety and shooting, coding, lock picking, parkour, gymnastics, poisons, hotwiring cars, driving, emergency wound treatment focusing on gunshot wounds, how to stay calm during an emergency, etc. He travelled most of Cybertron.

By the time he was ten realized it was not normal for them to be constantly changing their names, hair, story, and location. It started as a fun "game" when he was younger where his mother would ask who they'll be next and he didn't know his real original name. Or his mother's who was just Mother.

The most frequent name was her nickname for him which was Skids because the first time he drove a car for her during a getaway while she was treating her own gunshot wound in the back he was constantly skidding everywhere on the road. He was eight.

It was also not normal to have a collection of wigs, IDs, weapons, etc. with them as "go bags". Or to have a meet up and escape plan if the cops come while "Mother is out.". Skids, being Skids, started investigating and found a long trail of bodies everywhere they had been, including people he had met or his mother had used him to lure in.

The worst is a kid his age he thought of as a friend because they'd moved next to him and his mother started to befriend his father. His mother was both a serial killer and a hitwoman.

He couldn't handle the guilt and eventually called in a tip and ran and kept running. He suppressed a lot of memory to avoid his own guilt over “assisting” with the damage. He got moved around because he kept running away.

SKY WARD (15) - SKYWARP & T.C. WARD (11) - THUNDERCRACKER

Sky grew up in a pretty rough household with her older sister Star being her main, slightly resentful but very protective, caretaker. They had older siblings who'd moved out and cut contact with their mother as soon as they kid and most of them were half-siblings. Star and Sky were the only full siblings amongst them. When she was about eight her mother brought home a seemingly random child who was T.C. She was also their sister, but had lived with their father who her mother would disappear to visit.

When Star turned eighteen she planned to do something more and escape as well and go to college on a scholarship and never speak to her mother again, but then her mother disappeared for months and Star stayed with them, refusing to call for help and taking care of them. But everything blows up when their mother shows up finally and this time with a new baby (Sunny) and it develops into a screaming match.

The cops get called and everything comes out forcing them to be taken in by CPS. Star is furious and angry and seething but slowly starts planning. She can't go with them because she turns eighteen while they are in custody and they won't let her take them because their landlord evicted them and she is couch surfing until college opens. She gets her scholarship and a job while keeping in contact with them and the foster family that took them in.

Sky and T.C. are waiting for her and when she gets an apartment she files to try and get custody, showing that she can keep a roof over their head and provide, etc. Her mother even signs over custody willingly relinquishing her rights. Star takes Sky and T.C., but one of their older sister's who is married and doesn't have room for all of them but can take one, takes the new baby.

It all goes to hell though when Star is accused of stealing from her college and identity fraud. She denies it but loses her sisters and goes to jail due to a terrible lawyer and being pushed to take a plea deal for the chance of getting them back later.

Sky has her sister's temper and acts out with more and more vicious pranks, becoming one of those TikTok Prank Channels of horror and bullying which ends up getting her and T.C. who follows her lead moved when she turns them on her foster parents for refusing to let her visit Star or contact her.

This got her moved home which caused T.C. to be involved as well to go with her. She stole T.C.’s dog, Buster, for her from their original foster home after they'd moved to Jhiaxus. T.C. cried because she never thought she'd see her again. They were moved their first at the recommendation of their caseworker who is genuinely trying to help them and keep them together.

T.C. is the quieter and younger of the two, but can be just as reckless. She crashed her former foster parents’ car in order to get moved with Sky. She wants to be a writer, keeps a notebook of her ideas, and reads often. She dealt with everything by turning inward while Sky was more like Star and struck out.

They have really only ever been able to rely on each other and Star and keep themselves to themselves.

[legendofmorons]

ok so we all know legend is rude and mean and stuff but like what if he was more so to his crush like just mean for attention cuz like he would

You're so right honestly. I love him, and he's a little brat <3

Eyes on me

Pairing: (pre-relationship) Legend x Reader

Rating: G

Summary: Legend just wants your attention, but he dosen’t want you to know he's smitten.

Warnings: Legend is a little grump

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

-------

"Your aim is shit." Legend informs you as he watches you fail at what is Hyrule's equivalent of a carnival game.

You sigh, wondering why this man is always such a prick. "I know. You're welcome to try."

"Why not? I can show you what skill looks like."

"Legend." Twilight warns lowly.

"What? I have excellent aim."

"You're being mean." Twilight says with a narrowed gaze.

Legend just rolls his eyes.

You watch him try and fail at the ring toss game with mild amusement.

It's a rigged game, of course, but it's a little funny.

Legend groans when he finally taps out. "This is a scam!"

"Oh?" You ask.

Legend almost preens under your attention. He loves your playful side. He loves knowing you're paying attention to him.

He just... Has to play it off because you'll leave at the end of this adventure.

But you're just so... captivating. You're funny. Honest. You're good at heart in ways Legend isn't anymore.

"Yes. I don't lose unless it's rigged." Legend crosses his arms.

You snort, "Okay, hero. I don't suppose you can beat any other games?"

You know it's probably not... the nicest to goad him into playing more rigged games, but he's fun when he's not being rude.

"I should have brought my luck charm." Legend grumbles, "When I win you owe me your desserts."

You smile, "You want something for luck?"

"No."

"What, no kiss for luck?" You smile.

It should be cute to see the grumpy vet receive a friendly cheek kiss.

"What?" Legend blinks at you. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No." You say, "It's a thing back home."

"I don't- just do whatever." Legend manages.

He feels ridiculous, stumbling through words and not even telling you no.

He hopes you do give him a kiss for luck.

You smile, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to his left cheek. "Good luck."

Legend is blushing. He's going red enough he might be a perfect shade match for a fire hydrant.

It's sweet.

"I don't see how that's lucky, weirdo." Legend huffs, looking away from you.

"I don't have to do it again." You shrug.

Legend manages to bite his tongue a moment before he looks at you with narrowed eyes. "You're so fucking weird."

(He wins the next game and then grumpily demands more Good Luck Kisses. It's a new thing.)

[heretyc]

I beg for Prime Assets comforting you after getting shots or a doctor's appointment, or anything similar.., I just had an appointment recently and twas very frazzled by getting jabbed so many times cause I'm scared of needles 😔 though I'm obsessed with your writing I've been stalking your page... thank you in advance if you accept this request 💜

I'm so sorry you got jabbed, hun :( needles are not fun. If only vaccinations were in pill/liquid form...we need to bring bubblegum flavoured medicine back </3

"Oh, hush now," Coyle clicked his tongue as he roughly rubbed your arm in comfort; the cutesy bandage on your arm was almost rubbed off due to his strength, his palm warm. "You know I can't just...you know..." He removed his hand to finger quote, "'Fuck that needle wielder up with my prod'. You want to get in trouble?"

"Yeah," you sniffled, "Fuck her, man."

"Lord, what'd I do to end up with you?" Coyle snickered, an arm being wrapped around you tightly. "Didn't Barlow give you the fuckin' shots?"

"SO?"

"You like Barlow, I thought?"

You huffed. "Not anymore."

Coyle snorted, looking back in Barlow's direction. "Ya heard that?"

Looking up from her romance novel, Barlow's eyes were lidded in boredom, as if she didn't just stick a plethora of needles into your poor arm, "Pardon?"

"...I'll shoot 'er."

"Barbi," you warned, your brows furrowed, "No. She was doing her job...as painful as that job was."

Barbi scoffed, Lupara shaky in his grip, "Her job isn't to fuckin' prod ya with needles, sweetness. The fuck were they for, anyway?"

"Tetanus, measles, diptheria...the usual."

"Diptheria?" He raised a brow, "The fuck is that?"

"A disease that I could die from if I didn't get the vaccination," you rolled your eyes, "I hate needles and I appreciate the comfort, but don't make this harder on yourself."

"Baby, I've been to about 10 fuckin' countries sealing deals and spreading my business, I ain't never get a disease like diptheria."

"That's because you ate dirt, Barbi."

"...For your information, it was fuckin' mud pie. And that shit was divine."

"Okay, dirt eater." You snickered, your arm - the one that lacked post-needle pain - raised to grab Lupara. "Lemme occupy my mind with Lupara, please."

"You gonna shoot Bar-hoe?"

You scoffed, "No, Barbi."

"Then no." He stuck out his tongue. Silly bastard.

"Ohh, my poor dear," Gooseberry's voice was gentle as her gloved hand rubbed against your arm, "Those nice doctors are just protecting you against the measles..."

"Fuckin' myth of a disease anyway," The goose chortled in the background, "I ain't neva gots measles, or tetanus, or whoopy cough."

"Whooping cough, Dr. Daddy," Gooseberry corrected to the goose's dismay, "Anyway, just relax and let me care for you, okay, dear?" She cooed, pinching your cheek. "I have just the thing."

"A pat on the back and a 'get the fucks over it'?" Futterman snorted, resulting in Gooseberry to narrow her eyes. "No. I was thinking more of a...ride on the Root Canal."

"...Fuck it, why not?" Futterman grumbled, "Whats are we waiting fors?"

"Uhhh, my arm is sore as shit, Futterman," you got up, "Don't expect a round of applause."

"Well jokes on me, then," The goose scoffed, his drill sounding in irritation. "Do all needles make you this irritables?"

"What am I to do with the two of you?" Gooseberry chuckled, her free hand on your lower back as she guided you to the large ride.

[omorithedreamermod]

FEBRUARY DEVLOG - 2

Though it'd be fun to showcase a little bit of my portrait process, even if it's not specific! Anyways, it's time for the fourth DEVLOG...and...

IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

I got sick. I am still sick. This unfortunately has thrown a wrench in my productivity despite my best efforts. March release will still be possible, it just probably won't be as early as I was originally hoping, sadly. I hope I'll be back to full productivity soon. On the bright side, basically all contributions made by others are complete, so everything left to do is just on me. The list is a lot but I chose to do 85% of the mod, so it is on me to see it through!

That's why, rather than listing progress this week, I'll just list everything that still needs to be done.

THINGS LEFT TO DO:

General writing is complete, I just need to do some more flavor text and a bunch of NPC dialogue to certain locations that got completed later on.

There's a couple bits of sprite art, but barely any. Most of that is completely done.

There is only one more map to be made. A super small one! :D

Three music tracks are still pending. The full OST for the PRELUDE (including the 8 from the DEMO) is 48 tracks! I named them all recently it was very fun. Everyone worked hard!

Cutscene writing is complete up until a certain point. There's only one more section that needs writing. But, a lot of cutscenes still need to be programmed, so I really hope I can get better soon so I can do all of that. There's also other general programming to be done that I need to get around to.

BASIL real world portraits are done. SUNNY's are not. He doesn't need as many as BASIL, though.

I still have a couple NPCS to hand draw. Nothing fancy, though.

Badges all need to be made and then implemented. Wish me luck, there's quite a few!

After that, the playtest will be able to be sent off to people to bugtest while I then continue onto:

Drawing three whole cutscenes. Two on the longer side, one shorter.

(If time allows) A still image of DREAMER holding a thing! (Its a secret)

A certain separate thing needs to be completely written, then have a bunch of things drawn for it.

Credits video!!! Very important!!!!!

After everything above is implemented, I need to draw the additional art for the trailer...

CONCLUSION:

Hoping I can get back on track soon. I'm still sick and I'm frustrated about that. I'm really hoping I get better soon, as it's really set me behind on my intended schedule. Still, the goal is for full PRELUDE release in March, and I believe it's completely possible as long as I recover sooner than later. I know it might seem like a lot, but I did the DEMO all on my own. Trust me! March release is the plan! And the help I did get with sprite art (so many npcs!!!), OST(so many tracks...), some maps, and being able to ask people questions about programming when I'm lost has been absolutely wonderful. I wouldn't have been able to do everything on my own this quickly.

Though, I do hope after PRELUDE and I revamp the signups, I'll get even more help, because the plans for the future are quite hefty haha. I'll scale back if I need to, of course. Either way, I'm really excited, even if I am anxious and want it out ASAP. I'm so excited for everyone to see what THE DREAMER is truly going to be like!

[tekumaniac311]

Orchidea Fashion Week: Part 2

The next day, Prettybird decided to check out the town and meet some friends from childhood. All whom were going to participate in the fashion week. "First fashion show is tonight. Think you can beat me Mrs Space Rider?" A longtime friend of Prettybird teased, Prettybird gave a chuckle "It's not a competition, it's just to have fun and pose in style." She said in response, as she and her friends walked down the street, while walking she wondered to herself "Hmm, those people in the alleys the other day...I must be overthinking, probably just a bunch of hooligans."

"Prettybird?" Her friend asked. "Yes?" Prettybird replied back. "Last night there was something funny going on at the venues on my way home." Her friend explained "What kind of funny?" Prettybird responded "One of the venue workers was very cranky, even muttering to himself for some reason. I didn't hear much but I think he said something like 'I have it ready' Or something, probably just the decorations."

But Prettybird shook her chin at the information. First the strangers in the alleyway and now this? "Hmm, you don't mind if I go get myself something to eat? I'll be a little while." Prettybird told her friend

With that, Prettybird left her friends and approached the nearby fashion show venues, tomorrow night would be the first show so there was clearly lots of people around. She approached one of the security officers and held up her SR ID. "Sorry to bother, just wish to inspect the venues." The officer smiled "Of course, ma'am, go on ahead."

Prettybird entered the area and checked around for anything suspicious, that was when just as she looked in another direction she saw someone vanish behind a curtain. Puzzled, she went in to check but as she entered the tent there was no one around and it was very dark.

"Hello? Don't worry, I'm just looking to--"

**WHAM!**

Prettybird was struck on the head with a heavy block and fell down to the ground, the assailant then dragged her body away.

A few hours later

"I need to speak to her, get the bag off her head."

"Alright, since you know her."

Prettybird, although unable to see through the bag on her head, recognized the voice. No...could it? The bag was taken off her head and blinked to see many cultists surrounding her! "What the?"

"You Space Riders are nosy, veeery nosy." One of the cultists teased "Orchidea's fashion week is the perfect opportunity to setup an Hour of Joy." Prettybird looked at herself to see herself bound to a chair, she raised a brow and looked up at the cultists "Not if I stop you. Besides, Orchidea don't take kindly to Cultists."

One of the other cultists sighed "Let me speak with her in private please." Prettybird recognized the voice, and hoped beyond hope it wasn't who she thought it was. "Okay, but just a few minutes then we kill her." The other cultist said.

As the other cultists left, the familiar sounding cultists slowly approached Prettybird looking down on her. "As I said before..I was hoping you wouldn't come home.." With that, the cultist removed his mask and Prettybird let out a shocking gasp at who it was.

"Prettybird....we need to talk."

It was her father!

TO BE CONTINUED

AU belongs to @onyxonline

Prettybird belongs to me.