#like dude leave some for the rest of us and at the least resell them to the community at a reasonable rate

[cherrykcrunch]

To all shelf clearing resellers that are going to jack up the selling price exponentially, fuck you

[axwalker]

If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment. 

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah. 

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that. 

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else. 

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway. 

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn. 

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it. 

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug. 

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.” 

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily. 

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room. 

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart. 

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.” 

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great. 

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ” 

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not. 

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?” 

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.” 

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough. 

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.” 

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.” 

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in. 

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen. 

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.” 

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.” 

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch. 

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?” 

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.” 

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything. 

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself. 

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree. 

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend. 

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded. 

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.” 

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath. 

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again. 

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.” 

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up. 

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.” 

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going." 

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway." 

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked. 

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out. 

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died. 

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.” 

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway." 

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why. 

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?” 

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.” 

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called. 

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.” 

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen. 

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?” 

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.” 

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.” 

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid. 

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies. 

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.” 

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.” 

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected. 

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.” 

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger. 

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.” 

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot. 

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand. 

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here. 

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on. 

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life. 

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that. 

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14​

@lovingchoices14​

@nomadics-stuff​

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Episode 4.2: Steve: The Intergalactic Kevin

DM: By popular demand, one night only, a largely improv emergency meeting. If you drive me to alcoholism I’m billing you for therapy.

T: M, if you get sued for therapy bills, it’s coming out of the wedding budget. (T and M got engaged over Christmas break)

Everyone: OOOOOOO

DM: Corellia is one of the major core worlds, in a system with 4 others, but it’s the largest and closest to the main star; part of the Republic but maintains its own navy. Its main specialty is shipping and transportation.

Grif: OK, here’s the thing. I’ve been thinking about what you said, Rralwarr; the ship is a death trap, what if we turn it on them? Like, booby-trap it with bombs, set it to fly off somewhere on autopilot, and when they board the ship it’ll blow up with them in it hopefully. Now, there’s a couple more things you guys will hate.

Taveau: Oh I’m liking it so far.

Grif: You won’t. We’ll need to leave some things behind to make it look like we died. Your armor for one. 

Taveau: Ex-CUSE me

Grif: ...and three bodies off the black market. Also a wookiee pelt. 

Rralwarr: HOLD UP NOW. If I see someone with a wookiee pelt, I’m going to rip their arms off. 

Taveau: Grif? You... seem to be taking this well. Uh, more or less. So, uh. I’ve got some stuff to mention. 

Grif: Go ahead. 

Taveau:  Here’s what I noticed... First, we assist in killing a member of Death Watch; they’re killed with a blast to the throat. A short amount of time passes, and in that time, two things happen: we get a message from Death Watch, showing that they know who we are. And someone kills your mother with a blast to the throat, which is exactly the way that we killed the Death Watch guy down on Hypori. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me. It seems like they’re trying to send you a message. And if I’m right, that means there’s already someone on Alderaan, and they know where to find your family.  I still think we should change ships, because if there’s anyone following us, it might throw them off, and we’ll have fewer of these guys waiting for us when we get to Alderaan. But we should do it fast.

Rralwarr: Right. Here’s my concern, Grif; I think these guys are smarter than you think. I don’t think your dad is safe, and I think he said what he did at gunpoint. Your dad isn’t that stupid. There’s something else going on here. 

H, OOC: Rralwarr feels torn that he cannot uphold all of his duties at once. He legit thinks Grif’s idea is mildly OK, aside from the wookiee pelt, but no matter what they do they’re going to end up fighting the Mandalorians.

Grif: Right. So, any way we can get back at them now is a good start. We need to lose the ship that they’re tracking, and we need to get back there as quickly as possible. This idea seems the best for doing that without getting anyone else in danger. If we just leave the ship on Corellia, we could be implicating the people who end up with it. 

Rralwarr still doesn’t like the idea of wookiee pelts. He leaves the cockpit. 

Taveau spins around in his pilot chair. “So. Uh, he’s upset. How much family do you have on... Alderaan, is it?” 

Grif: Yes. My dad and uh.. a bunch of siblings. 

Taveau: Oh, that’s not good. If it was just your dad they’d be more likely to keep him alive to use against you. If you’ve got multiple family members they could start killing them off at any time. 

No one questions Taveau’s knowledge of Death Watch, to my surprise; apparently they just assume it’s cultural knowledge and accept it. Taveau is very relieved about this. 

We land on Corellia, and Grif’s current plan involves selling the ship to someone, because “we need the credits”, but setting the autopilot so it flies away before they can claim it, and hopefully getting off the planet before we’re arrested for this little scam. Taveau doesn’t like it but doesn’t have a better idea. Rralwarr really, really doesn’t like it but is in a similar position. 

Taveau leaves his helmet in the cockpit, so he can have an excuse to run back into the ship after it’s officially been sold and grab it (and also set the autopilot at the same time). Additionally, with his poncho covering most of his armor, he can walk around town looking like your average shady individual, and not a distinctly Mandalorian brand of shady. Upon us asking what the chances of being attacked around here are: 

DM: There is pretty heavy police presence here, CorSec does not take kindly to disruptions. ...(repeats, pointing at M/Grif): CorSec does not take kindly to disruptions...

M: That’s why we need to get out of here fast after we set the autopilot :) 

DM: ...It’s not likely that Death Watch would prefer to start a firefight here. You’re heading into the Corellian Engineering Corp. headquarters, yes? You are immediately accosted by at least 3 dealers, complimenting your hair, your robes, and waving information pamphlets at you. 

Grif: Thank you! Lovely! I’ll consider it. One moment. (OOC: can I roll perception to see who has the best deal?) 

DM: yeah go ahead. (he rolls high) You notice this one guy standing back a bit, close to the wall-- 

M: I GO OVER TO HIM 

DM: What do you say? 

Grif: Ah! Interesting tactic, not rushing me~ 

DM: ...Roll charisma. (fail) Yeah he just kinda... gives you a slightly offended look, says “I’m busy” and walks away. 

M: Oh. 

Meanwhile, Rralwarr is hanging out in the courtyard near our ship, trying to keep an eye on our surroundings. He rolls a 9 on perception. 

DM: ...Yeah, you don’t see anything unusual. You do notice a very fascinating fountain. You stare at that for a while. 

Grif, meanwhile, heads for the table marked “sales and trade-ins” and identifies his ship type to the droid attendant. He’s sent out with a scanner team to check the condition of the ship. 

Taveau, who’d started off to check out one of the other dealers, hears that Grif has it handled and, relieved that he doesn’t have to talk to anyone, rejoins Rralwarr. Taveau also manages to roll a 9 on perception (2, originally, with modifiers). He, too, becomes enamored with the fountain. He stands by Rralwarr and contemplates his place in the universe. While Grif accomplishes things, the two of them gaze at the fountain together. 

Grif chats up the scanner team foreman while the rest of the dudes set up the scanner. Eventually they call him inside to look at something and Grif waits outside, tucking his hands inside his sleeves and gripping the tiny concealed blaster he keeps up one of his sleeves (which I only heard about very recently, and this makes me wonder if Taveau has noticed it. Possibly, as it seems like something he’d notice. But possibly not, because as we all know, he’s kind of clueless.) 

M: Grif feels edgy. 

DM: Do you mean he feels On Edge or is he just... intentionally acting as edgy as possible 

H: Oh it’s definitely that

M: Edgy, probably. I mean it’s not like he’s actually going to shoot anyone, he’s just gripping his gun and feeling edgy for the sake of edginess. 

There’s muffled conversation from inside. oh, really?...huh...well, that’s... interesting...

The foreman reappears, carrying a small device in his hand, and tells Grif that the ship seems to be in pretty good reselling condition, but the scan found a hyperspace tracker on the bottom of the engine. He’s guessing that they bought it from a secondhand dealer, as some of the less-scrupulous of those will often attach a tracker to a ship so they can track it down if payments aren’t met. He also volunteers that it only transmits when in hyperspace, and gives it to Grif when he asks. 

(Lore-wise this tracker bugs me a bit because hyperspace technology was considered brand new in The Last Jedi, which is considerably later than the time period we’re playing in. I then consider the fact that we’re playing a game for fun and not accuracy and that it’s a cool concept and I tell myself to take a chill pill.)

Foreman: Also, you have excellent taste in rum. 

Grif: Oh, yes! Why don’t we get it down, actually, to celebrate the sale? 

Foreman: That’s not a bad idea. I’ll send the boys back early. 

The Rest of the Party: * C O N C E R N * 

M: guys I’m gonna be fine don’t worry. 

And in fact Grif did not die. Grif didn’t even drink (rum). He had water, and he gave the rest of the bottle to the foreman as a gift, considering he couldn’t let Rralwarr see it with him anyway. The foreman, for his part, left in an excellent mood and promised to give his ship a really good report. 

I think this may have been the first time Grif succeeded with charisma. M comments that, thanks to the character change, he’s more focused than usual. 

We reunite and discuss an alternate plan, now that we have the tracker: take it with us on the new ship, hyperspace-jump to the middle of absolutely nowhere, fling the tracker off the ship and then hightail it to Alderaan. Taveau grabs his helmet and, taking the tracker along, we trade in our old ship for a shiny new one. 

DM asks if we’d like to name the ship. H/Rralwarr don’t have ideas. M goes “yeah I don’t think Grif really cares right now.” So it’s up to me. 

“...Steve?” (laughter. The DM is going to accept it) “No wait. The.... The Intergalactic Kevin.” (H really likes that one but I feel like I should come up with a name that isn’t a joke) “Wait, I’ve got it: Blindsider.” 

A good name, as Taveau sincerely hopes that they’ll be able to reach Alderaan undetected in this ship. Everyone likes the name, the DM okays it, and we have a newly-christened ship (with two sonic showers). 

Someone suggests that we get a party pet, some kind of space dog, and name it Steve: The Intergalactic Kevin. 

Rralwarr, a little calmed down now that we’ve found a plan that doesn’t involve massive amounts of deception, swindling, and disrespecting the remains of the dead, goes to talk to Grif as Taveau is starting it up. 

Grif: I’m gonna be fine, it’s just.. this entire day all I’ve been able to think about has been Alderaan. I wanna go home, but also I wanna stay away as much as possible. And when I think of Alderaan I think of mom, but she won’t be there...it’ll just be a house, it won’t be the same. And I still kinda wanna get back at those Mandalorians. But I know we don’t have the power to do that, and it just frustrates me.

The two share a moment. The moment is interrupted: 

Taveau: HEY GUYS ARE WE TAKING OFF? 

Grif: ..YeS

Rralwarr: Grif, I know you’re under a lot of stress, and I don’t blame you for your suggestions, and while your suggestion regarding the wookie pelts deeply offends me, I know you were more concerned with getting us off here safely than with how you did it, and I understand. Don’t do that again, though. You know very well how wookies treat their dead. 

Grif: I know, trust me, humans are the same way. I’m sorry, I know that was out of place, and... I wish I could say that I wouldn’t have done it.

Rr: We’re at war, things happen... I didn’t have a better idea at the time.

Grif: also I’m still not certain that people won’t get hurt because of our ship. 

Rr: there’s no perfect way to handle this. Let’s think of it this way: we’re going back to protect the rest of your family, they’re all targets; we’re all in danger now, we need to make sure they’re safe.

We take off, make the jump, and stop to dispose of the tracker. Taveau rolls really well on piloting and I decide that this ship has really easy controls. Here’s where Mistakes Happen. 

Me: Can I do the honors of yeeting the tracker into space? 

DM: Absolutely. There’s, like, a waste disposal hatch, and you-- 

H: You should roll dex for that!

Me: What? For shoving something down a garbage chute? 

H: Yes. Because it’d be really funny if you failed. 

Me:...ok

DM: Excellent! Roll! 

Me: 

Me: a 1 

H: HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Me: WHAT. WHAT HAPPENS TO ME. 

DM: ....which hand are you using? 

Me, recognizing that this is an opportunity for mercy and deciding not to take it: I mean realistically probably my dominant hand, which is my right. 

DM: It’s stuck. 

Rralwarr: I grab your arm and pull you out!

DM: And now your wrist is broken. 

Me: GREAT. THAT WAS MY SHOOTING HAND. 

Rralwarr treats me with his medic skills and fixes me up with a wrist brace. I’m told that I’ll be alright in a few days (presumably Rralwarr inflicted some sort of rapid-heal treatment upon me?), but I should, in the meantime, avoid stressing my hand. Specifically, I shouldn’t fire any weapons with recoil. 

Yeah, good luck with that. 

As we end the session, I ask H if Rralwarr has any painkillers. H says gleefully that he does indeed, and that he’s looking forward to seeing a high Taveau. 

masterpost

[feastwaiter6-blog]

Regularly Questioned Concerns About Marijuana Utilization in Colorado

First and foremost, the simple policies of legalized leisure marijuana drug use are: • Coloradoans might only have or obtain one ounce of cannabis at a time. • Yocan evolve plus two , vaporizing, or consuming hashish in general public areas (I.e., Purple Rocks Coors Area sixteenth Road Mall parking heaps or airports) is definitely forbidden. • Driving underneath the influence of cannabis is illegal. So, all Coloradoans can use marijuana for satisfaction now? Proper--to an extent. All lawful citizens of Colorado 21 many years and more mature could possess, use, screen, obtain, or transport one ounce (virtually 60 joints) or significantly less of cannabis for recreational use. Nonetheless, many metropolitan areas and counties have passed their own amendments to make things this sort of as marijuana growing amenities or retail pot retailers illegal (here is looking at you, Colorado Springs, Westminster, and Centennial!). Equally, your employer has the appropriate to produce his or her very own guidelines relating to cannabis use amongst employees-even in the privacy of their very own residences. Considering that marijuana is authorized in Colorado, petty drug offenses aren't that massive a offer anymore, right? This is a frequent misunderstanding. The federal authorities even now considers marijuana unlawful, which indicates any evidence that you have partaken in or purchased the drug could impact your federal student loans, certain employment positions, and social rewards this kind of as meals stamps or community housing. Additionally, drug offenses will always display up on your track record checks. I'm 21 several years previous could I share my weed with my eighteen-yr-outdated brother? No way. You are not able to offer marijuana to any individual young than 21-even if it's cost-free and not for financial compensation. Also, the zero-tolerance law signifies people underneath 21 experience an automatic decline of their license if they are identified driving beneath the affect of cannabis. Can I resell the weed I acquired lawfully? No. You might, nevertheless, gift somebody more than 21 up to 1 ounce of marijuana-as extended as there is certainly no trade of funds concerned. If my school roommate visits me from Alabama, do all these legal guidelines utilize to him as properly? Only if he has a federal government-issued Colorado ID. Non-residents may purchase up to ¼ an ounce of cannabis for each transaction, whereas they may possess one particular entire ounce at a time. Primarily, your pal could make four different purchases in a single day, but that's a gray issue the place the implications, or deficiency thereof, just aren't specific so much. Is there a authorized limit for how much weed I can have in my method and nevertheless drive? The legal limit is five nanograms or considerably less of delta 9-tetrahydrocannabinol (THC, the energetic component in cannabis) for each milliliter in total blood. This isn't a fantastic measurement since diverse strains of marijuana carry various potencies of THC also, men and women metabolize the drug at significantly more diverse rates than liquor. For this reason, you may most likely by no means see a chart that tells you how numerous joints or brownies are also many to get powering the wheel. How is the sum of cannabis in my body analyzed? If they have a justifiable purpose, legislation enforcement officials suspicious of drugged driving will request a blood draw. As this Westword write-up points out, nevertheless, these blood checks have not but been refined and they can be fairly inaccurate. In this scenario, the reporter's blood test confirmed that he was intensely stoned hrs soon after he experienced previous smoked everything. Other authorities feel individuals develop up a tolerance to the drug and they may possibly even now be sober at five nanograms. I urge you to extremely consider refusing the blood test if the predicament arises. If you do take the check, make positive you safe one particular of the blood samples to reaffirm the final results independently later on. You imply I is not going to have to pee in a cup? A urine examination has no value when it will come to cannabis since traces of the drug might display up in your technique lengthy following you happen to be sober. A blood check is the only precise indicator of energetic THC at the moment. How extended do the authorities have to perform the blood take a look at? With alcohol, they need to demonstrate a person's BAC (blood alcoholic beverages content) is .08 p.c or more inside two hrs of driving. They have not issued a defined time interval for drug tests but but, rest assured, it will be some thing "realistic." Will I drop my license if I refuse the blood take a look at? Potentially. As with DUIs, you could shed your license for a 12 months if you refuse the blood take a look at. Not like drunk driving although, there will not be any administrative penalties on your record this is essential because marijuana intake proceeds to be banned at the federal amount. Remember, nevertheless, that you can usually politely drop to do the standardized area sobriety assessments (strolling in a straight line, reciting the alphabet backwards, and so on.) without having penalty. Why ought to I refuse to consider a standardized field sobriety test? In short, there are specific assessments created for assessing drug intoxication and not each law enforcement officer is trained in these very however. Law enforcement officials uneducated in marijuana recognition undoubtedly will not likely aid your scenario as they don't have the resources to make an correct judgment of your sobriety. Wait, so will I be arrested if I have any traces of marijuana in my body? No, the mere presence of hashish in your blood is not a sufficient cause to arrest you. In addition, possessing 5 nanograms or far more of marijuana in your technique is not enough to instantly convict you of a DUID either if you had a BAC of .08 per cent or a lot more, on the other hand, you would immediately be charged with drunk driving. Everyone's expressing marijuana is safer than alcohol what is actually the risk in driving stoned? Research present marijuana use impacts spatial perceptions, indicating drugged drivers have slower response moments and have a tendency to swerve or tailgate other vehicles far more often. Think about these basic stoner movie scenes where the dudes are absolutely fascinated by the measurement of their hands would you want them driving you down I-25? I'm a medical-cannabis user does this make me an easy focus on for DUID checks? It should not. According to a Colorado bill, a person's healthcare-cannabis position (I.e., a legitimate health-related-cannabis registry ID) are not able to be utilized as proof of impairment or probable trigger for a blood check. Can I at the very least drive all around with marijuana merchandise? As with alcoholic beverages, it is illegal to drive with an open up container of cannabis performing so will consequence in a targeted traffic infraction that displays up on federal checks (as I described previously). The regulation applies to anything at all containing cannabis that is open up or has a damaged seal, or has partly-removed contents. The best suggestions I can supply at this point is to keep it as significantly out of get to as attainable. In simple fact, Set IT IN THE TRUNK. My vehicle isn't going to have a trunk. All right, as with all principles, there are specific exceptions. If you travel an SUV or minivan, you could maintain unsealed marijuana powering the last row of upright seats. Open up marijuana is also permitted in the living quarters of trailers or motor properties. Can I smoke/eat weed in the vehicle if I am not the driver? No. Men and women in the passenger location of a automobile can't use or eat cannabis, and the no open up- container legislation applies to them as properly. Although we are at it, you also cannot smoke marijuana in a taxi or on general public transportation. You might, nevertheless, smoke cannabis if you are in the rear of a privately-hired auto. As prolonged as I purchase the pot lawfully in Colorado, can I just take it to other states? Absolutely not--not even to Washington. To start with, bear in mind the TSA is a federal establishment and that marijuana is banned at all airports, including DIA. You are not able to fly with the drug, and actually, you can't even leave cannabis in your auto at the airport that would rely as illegal possession and subject you to a heavy good. Next, our neighboring states are cracking down on individuals driving into their borders with weed bought in Colorado. Wyoming, for instance, is not going to even understand a Colorado-issued medical-cannabis card and will make arrests for illegal possession appropriately.