#objective meridian

[mariacallous]

likely thing for him to say

[antisolararc]

Technically goes with a previous piece (they don't match all that much but it is what it is). But actually this one should go first. It's just that I didn't think about drawing it til after.

The implications of this are uhhhh umhhmm don't worry about it!!!!!

[eyepatchdate]

swtor...achievements....

[vikenticomeshome]

Meridian 157 - Chapter 1 (Walkthrough and Story Discussion) (part 1/?)

We're back. Last post, we completed the prologue, and now we are entering Chapter 1. However, before we get into it, let's do a quick recap of the prologue.

It is now August of 2018. You are David Zander, a forensic meteorologist working in Anchorage, Alaska. Supercell thunderstorms have been appearing at an unusually high rate in coastal areas. The situation is bad enough that people are talking about evacuating coastal areas.

Your equipment detected an unusual electromagnetic storm on a small island of unknown sovereignty.

You drove your boat for 11 hours to reach the island, which appears to be deserted, with the power still running.

The only sign of human inhabitants was a strange shadow man, and you are no longer certain as to whether that was a dream.

You found the journal of Captain Herald, a sailor who became marooned on the island in 2006. He slowly lost his mind, and he reported seeing shadowy figures like the one that you saw.

You persevered through puzzles and acquired a set of three rings. These opened an underground bunker.

The bunker contained reference to an organization or project called F.L.A.R.E. who may be responsible for the anomalies on this island.

You managed to activate an elevator to take you deeper.

And then, the power to the elevator failed, and you were left in darkness. And so, Chapter 1 of your journey begins.

Thankfully, while the main light has failed, an emergency light has come on. The lever for taking the elevator up or down is not working. However, you can see a hatch on the ceiling.

You realize that, based on the label on the wall, you have reached basement 21.

You climb up the nearby landing. You pick up the coin, hoping that it will bring you some luck. The door to B21 is closed, but perhaps you can unscrew the maintenance panel to get the door open.

The coin works to unscrew the panel. However, to your dismay, you are not met with a simple switch. Instead, the inside of the panel is a mess of components. You reason that you need to move the four locking bars inwards far enough to disengage the lock on the door. However, you also reason that you need to slide several other components out of the way to make this possible.

With time, the solution comes to you, and you are able to open the door ahead.

You find yourself in a well-lit industrial corridor. You hear a hissing sound ahead.

The path upon your left is blocked by hot steam, and the cabinet attached to the pipes is locked. You leave it alone for now, as you would get horrific burns.

There is a crate against the wall to your right. It is nailed shut, but the nails haven't been driven in very deep. You try to pull then out, but you cannot get a grip with your hands alone.

A three-part sign looms ahead. On the left, you have a path to the Power Room and the Residence Area. On the right, you have a path to the Machine Room.

You decide to head to the left first. The elevator did lose power, after all, so the Power Room may have the solution. The path to the Power Room now curves to the right. You can just make out some rocky rubble beyond the curve, which gives you a sinking feeling.

Alas, you were right to be concerned. The path to the Power Room has been completely caved in. You know better than to try to shift the rubble and risk bringing the tunnel down on your head. You are able to retrieve a pair of pliers. And then, you notice a crate half-buried in the rubble.

You can make out little bits of printing on the crate. You are still eager to find clues as to what happened. However, the surface is coated in dried mud. Your hands alone are not enough to clean away the dirt, but you keep the crate in mind for later.

Instead, you take a step back and continue along the path to the left. Perhaps you will find someone in the Residence Area who can help you.

You marvel at the massive yellow air duct to your right. You are immensely grateful that it is still working. You pick up an extension cable sitting a crate to your right before moving on. The issue with the elevator losing power is still fresh in your mind.

You arrive at the door to the Residence Area. You find it locked, and you try banging on it. However, the door is so thick that, even if someone was there, they probably wouldn't hear you.

As you turn to leave, you notice an overturned metal cage. There is a create inside, and there is some sort of drawstring is sitting on the crate. However, with the cage overturned like this, you can't get it opened. There are holes in the cage, but they are too small for your hands to squeeze through. You even try your pliers, but they are also too big.

However, as you lament that your pliers couldn't help you, you remember that crate in the first hallway. You are able to pull the nails out and get the crate open. All you find the crate is a single light bulb. You take it and put it somewhere safe. Maybe it will be useful for something.

Having exhausted all options with the Power Room and Residence Area, you take the path to the right marked "Machine Room". The area opens up. You can head left or right here.

You take the left path, and you can see the entrance to the machine room ahead. You really hope that this can take you somewhere.

The sight of the keypad next to the door does not inspire confidence.

As you expected, the Machine Room door is securely locked.

The keypad also contains a slot for some sort of ID card. It looks like you still have a long way to go if you want to get into this room.

Editor's Note: And just like that, we are already at the 30 image limit. See you again in the next part.

[kissingwookiees]

darth malgus is entirely right about the empire btw but the fact that his multiple betrayals are the reason i have to run the longest and my personal least favorite flashpoints in all of swtor is the reason we're archenemies.

[catboybiologist]

hi sierra can i maybe have a fun biology fact maybe

The most numerous vertebrates on the planet are Bristlemouths, a small, bioluminescent fish inhabiting the pelagic twilight zone in a continuous, massive school around the deepest parts of the Earths oceans.

Estimates of their number range from the high trillions to low QUADRILLIONS. That is a fucked up number. Any number of fish you are thinking of right now isn't close. Any way you are visualizing this isn't close. The human brain was not meant to comprehend that large a number of visible, macroscopic objects, much less chordates that think and move and feed.

Pull up an image of earth from space. Maybe at night. Take a look at how much space our farmlands occupy, our city lights. Then look at the oceans. And imagine them covered in a blanket- a continuous veil, shifting up or down at depths deeper than 1000 feet below the surface.

Center your view on the prime meridian. Lots of land. If you zoom out to see the Atlantic Ocean, you'll see parts of all continents except Oceania. And splitting it all, in somewhat comparable size, is the Atlantic Ocean.

Then remember that you're forgetting well over half the planet. The Pacific ocean ALONE is about half the Earths surface.

And through the entire thing. A continuous sheet of fish, each about 3cm to 30cm in length.

Sit and stare off in the direction of the nearest coastline.

Look at some underwater depth topography of the closest ocean to you.

The next time you're by the sea, stare into it. Try to estimate the point on the horizon where the depth drops below 1000 feet.

Stare at that line.

And think of them.

The mass.

The SWARM.

Unbroken across the entire Earth.

We are visitors.

We are specks, even on our own world.

We are bystanders on the Planet of the Fish, and Bristlemouths are their rulers.

[slushiepizza]

1980s supercomputer-horror project meridian AU that nobody asked for (marcus still on his bullshit regardless.)

the year was 1979. ETS released their latest supercomputer, the A553-T. It was state-of-the-art, an invention that would revolutionize how computers work forever. 240 million calculations per second. It took the breath out of your lungs- you had never seen anything like it. It perfectly blended form and function- and it was the most dense a computer has ever been, a towering, multiple-sided object in the middle of the room like a heart in a ribcage. Underneath it, a cooling system was installed- a network of pipes and cables and freon like what mycelium was to fungi. As you untangled the system- you found what seemed to be a lump. You tell yourself that it was dust- or some sort of buildup of dirt. But you know what it was. Vessels started to form in the lumps. Maybe you weren't so different from 'it' after all. Meanwhile, your coworker struggled with workplace discrimination due to his heritage, the looming political conflict left a bad taste in everyone's mouths. The same conflict, though, that funded the creation of the object of your affections. (pronoun monolog inspired/ based on a passage from I have No Mouth yet I must Scream)

[inamindfarfaraway]

Evidence that Hazel Wells is autistic:

She loves routine, needs it to feel secure and adjusts poorly to changes from what she knows and her plan, e.g. her stress from moving to a new city and school, struggling to form bonds with her classmates and not having her promised talk with Anthony driving her to run away and be miserable enough to qualify for fairy godparents; wanting to replicate her relationship with her brother with Jasmine; learning how to deal with them both having evolved when he visits; her gut instinct itself says that a tour meticulously structured in advance is her dream holiday and urges her to follow her godparents’ offered one of Fairy World

She has special interests in geology, horror movies, dinosaurs and Prime Meridian Love (and hats?), not just loving them intensely and expressing that through learning and sharing intimate knowledge of them, but using them to understand and navigate relationships, e.g. wanting to watch horror films with Jasmine because that’s her definition of a bonding activity from her routine with Antony; inviting her friends to a book club reading her manga as another bonding activity; wishing Kenueth to life to do a romantic-coded activity; naming her rocks, drawing faces on them and talking to them, possibly originating in a history of having few friends

Her fairies’ default object disguise form is a pair of fidget tools and their entire purpose is to give her what she wants

She frequently feels anxious and overthinks things, especially regarding social dynamics, e.g. her fear of Anthony forgetting about her while he’s away; getting overwhelmed by her peers in the cafeteria in “Teacher’s Pal”, fleeing and needing to steel herself simply to enter it at the end of the episode, not even planning to talk to anyone; being desperate to impress Winn and worrying that her home is inadequate for her standards, on a basis of nothing Winn has done; worrying that her geology presentation will be inadequate and wishing for a special stone; choosing to undergo countless time loops to try to avoid any embarrassment; worrying that an online quiz invalidates her close friendships

She nonetheless is said to be “mature” for her age in both “Fly” and “Teacher’s Pal” by Angela and herself

She has extremely high empathy despite not always easily understanding people, e.g. wishing to understand Dev; making selfless wishes on Founder’s Day whenever she sees unhappy kids; enabling Winn to experience their own interest in Patty Possum’s Party Playground the way they want and then empathizing with Patty about fearing abandonment and still loving people when they’re not around; continuing to be kind to Dev at the Dimmsonian and in “Best of Luck” after he twice reverts back to selfishness and malice and believes their friendship to be over; wishing for Marcus to get to be on a paranormal investigation TV show

She has a strong sense of justice, e.g. being so affected by learning about pollution that she starts a local environmentalist movement; vehemently opposing Dale’s corruption; rallying her friends to stand up to Vicky; angrily lashing out at Dev when she thinks or learns that he’s betrayed her

She can take things too literally or lack theory of mind, e.g. getting offended by Jasmine saying that she could dance alone “near” her partnered friends and holding that grudge for most of the episode; jumping to the conclusions that Dev is insulting her when he calls her “anomaly” and he was willingly, knowingly helping his father be evil; leaving him alone when he orders her to on his birthday rather than questioning if what he says he wants is what he actually wants or needs, since he’s clearly distraught and she knows that his issues revolve around abandonment, neglect and loneliness

She can disregard social norms when consumed by passion, e.g. interrupting the museum guide to share her own knowledge of dinosaurs and grabbing his microphone; infodumping about the plot of her manga in detail after Jasmine tells her not to; stealing Mr Guzman’s hat just because she likes it so much

She has emotional breakdowns that lead to drastic, bad decisions and could be read as meltdowns, e.g. packing a suitcase and running away; remorsefully attempting to sacrifice her life to restore potatoes to Earth

She loves official documents and finds the Department of Motor Vehicles relaxing for its rigid structure and monotony

She samefoods with chips/fries and other potato products, so passionate about them as to mention them when introducing herself to her classmates and have a whole episode dedicated to her wanting to eat only them; this is a notable choice because chips have a mild, neutral base flavour, are often standardized by producers like restaurant chains and served with the same condiments, making their eating experience predictable (and she isn’t shamed for being a ‘picky eater’! Her parents and Mother Nature say that it’s wonderful that she finds so much joy in potatoes and gently convince her to give her body what else it needs too)

She also hates trail mix for being “chaotic” with all its different flavours mixed together, and firmly prefers oatmeal cookies to normal cookies

Autism is genetic and her father likewise exhibits several autistic traits

She considers Jasmine casually striking up a conversation with a stranger and singing in public without self-consciousness to make her courageous, no matter what other fears she has

She continues to think of herself as “the new kid” for a good few months post-move and feels the internal need to prove her belonging in Dimmadelphia on Founder’s Day

She can’t comprehend how and why arbitrary, pointless social rivalries like the one between the band and orchestra groups exist

She repeatedly wishes for fantastical roleplaying adventures with her godparents, which give her excitement without stress or loss of control, as the stakes aren’t real and she always wins in the end (the “plot twist” we see Wanda add is the return of a villain from a previous adventure, still drawing on comfortable familiarity)

She has no interest in seeing more of Fairy World until Dev brings it up, strange for such a curious girl who adores her fairies - maybe out of aversion to an unknown, unpredictable setting?

When surrounded by clones of herself and asked to raise her hand if she’s real, she hesitates because she isn’t sure and doesn’t want to “deprive the real Hazel of being herself”, demonstrating high empathy, self-doubt and existential overthinking all at once; Wanda says, “Only the real Hazel would overthink whether she was real or not!”

I’m autistic and I relate to her enough to know

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— CELEBRATION DAY

SUMMARY : cowboy Dean, that’s it! yeah, yeah, I’ve got a thing.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), blowjob (mentioned), handjob, unprotected p in v, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT : 5.9k

A/N : led zeppelin song title. omg, I wanna thank my big brothers for watching Supernatural when I was little. I never woulda met Dean’s gorgeous, galaxy freckled face, green-eyed sparkle sparkle, majestic body, honey hair, smirky, pillow lip prince—what was I saying? oh yeah, I love Dean, happy birthday to the man I’ve loved the longest 💗

Dean didn’t think the whole month of January could get any better.

Everyday Y/n left a gift for him somewhere around the bunker for him to find. It was like the Twelve Days of Christmas song, but so much better. 

He was really pretty sure she was stealing most of them. 

On the first day, a pin up style calendar, but instead of random women, it was her and all his favourite kinks and fetishes. If he could, he’d say he loved her in every language that exists. It’s the only way for him to show that he truly means it. At least he thinks so. 

On the second day, he received seven different types of necklaces that she thought he’d look prettiest in, but one stood out. One that he’d offhandedly shown interest in when they were window shopping to walk off the effects of caffeine in her system. The love letter smelled of coffee and recounted the feelings she had watching him be so domestic. 

On the third day, she gave him a Street Fighter arcade game perfect for his Dean Cave. He swore he’d beat her, but he didn’t have the heart to do so, and let her KO him (she already knew what he was doing).

On the fourth day, she got him a new, stainless steel watch. She attached a small love letter addressed to him, the last words were spoken by the Doctor: You waited long enough. Time and time again, with her by his side, he yearned for normalcy, a family, getting out. For some reason, an object that measured time symbolised their endless love, a promise that made him breathless.

On the fifth day, he was given seven different rings. The letter for this gift said something along the lines of: I need to practise proposing. And you didn’t say no, so this is going great. He chuckled at that. He’d never say no to her, especially not to marriage. 

On the sixth, she gave him a porn magazine, starring : her. He found it in the library when she sent him to pick up a book for her. A magazine like one belonging to Playboy that drove him crazy every day that he remembered what was in it. And that tiny love letter she put inside… He hoped no one would put their hands on that one. It was for his eyes only.

On the seventh, a black 1962 corvette that she put together with the help of her older brother. To say Dean was impressed was an understatement, despite all those times he taught her how to put the Impala back together, he was both turned on and fascinated with her work. And obviously they, uh, christened it. Or whatever.

On the eighth, she surprised him with twelve books he’d intended to read for such a long time, but never got around to searching for them. Shane; Whiskey When We’re Dry; Lonesome Dove; Blood Meridian. Were some of the titles he recognised and he was more than thrilled to dive into them and relax completely as reality faded around him. 

On the ninth, she gifted him a new cowboy outfit. She put that in the room where he kept all the costumes he wore. The material was more original, with amazing quality—aka, not cheap. A whole bunch of Hecho en Mexico tags that he’d ask her to read to him—in Spanish of course. For reasons. (And that love letter he found in the inner pocket also needed to be read in Spanish, too.)

On the tenth, he got to open a giant box of Scooby snacks. Here and there, there were a few of his other favourite snacks, but there were mostly Scooby snacks that he’d been munching on ever since. 

The eleventh, the gift he received were seven different bracelets. According to the love letter, they were gifts to keep him bound to her only. 

The twelfth, a brand new espresso machine. That was simply found by him in the kitchen, new, with an olive-green bow and a small lover letter. All that yummy coffee he gets to consume in the morning with her, trying it out together. Two coffee addicts in love. Nothing better.

The thirteenth, the gift was going to an amuent park together. They ate too many foods, went on all—if not most—of the rides, took a hundred photos, tried on the silly clothes, played the games—mini-golf, go-carts… He was exhausted as soon as they got inside the Impala. So, it was a last minute decision to stay at a nearby hotel for the night. It was the best sleep he had in ages. 

The fourteenth, a large journal in multitudes of journaling styles detailing things she loved about him that particular day or something he did that made her smile. It was cheesy, but very beautiful. The care and attention to detail made Dean’s heart lurch in his chest. From the cute bullet journal style, to the more than accurate drawings of him, and sophisticated details about things he didn’t know about himself, his habits, or other things he did. It was a collection of her love for him, which somehow made any fears evaporate like steam in a shower. 

The fifteenth, forty-five new sets of socks with cute and/or funny prints. And she was prepared with a new drawer for all of them to fit, rolled up perfectly like… well, whatever delicious meal she had planned just as he liked. Enchiladas. Yummy. And a new love letter shoved inside a sock to make him blush and smile boyishly. 

For the sixteenth day, it was four cassette mixtapes of all the songs they listened to when they went on some of their most meaningful dates and that played in the most memorable, intimate moments of their lives. Now it made sense why she was thrilled to learn and watch him prepare the mixtape he made for Cas. (It was better afterwards when his skills and patience were more than noticed by her and she—anyway, it was hot sex.) As for the love letter, it was profoundly clear that she wanted to praise and show she recognised his expertise, intelligence, and skill (not that she hasn’t praised him for it before). 

For the seventeenth day, he got a Katana. He didn’t need it, he didn’t even know he wanted it until he held it in his hands and unsheathed it. God, that was awesome. Of course he’d probably almost accidentally hurt himself playing around with it, using it unnecessarily in the kitchen—just as an example. 

For the eighteenth day, a sex position book with over 300 sex positions to try. It almost offended him, but after looking through a few pages, he was convinced that she was right and they needed to try some of the kinkier positions. 

For the nineteenth day, she handed him a lengthy collection of mint condition Batman comic books. He was so not cool about that, gushing and grinning, holding her tightly until she pushed him away to breathe properly. 

For the twentieth day, he received some new vinyl records of his favourite songs from his favourite bands to nearly complete his collection of music. And as always, he found a love letter relating to the gift she gave to him where she’d ‘hid’ the vinyls above his desk. 

For the twenty-first: an old photo album filled with photos he’d never seen from his childhood and up to last year. Some he never even remembered living, but they did skip a few memories that made him smile sadly. She confessed she got Cas to take her back into the past to sneakily take pictures of him and everything he lived through. It was oddly… endearing. Then, she gave him an empty photo album, only their New Year’s kiss was placed inside a protective, plastic pocket. Ready to be filled by him, this time around.

For the twenty-second, a custom made Batman costume. The story for this one was that she made a deal with one of Charlie’s old LARPing friends: if she got rid of a ghost in his house, he’d make her the costume. And after that, she got one of the Dean’s from another universe to act as the model for the measurements Charlie’s old friend took to make the costume fit him perfectly. There were a few ideas Dean had regarding that costume, and he’s more than a hundred percent sure Y/n’s been thinking the same thing ever since he tried it on. 

For the twenty-third, a twelve month pie subscription, obviously on National Pie Day. And he got to try the first one that day, rhubarb pie that made his mouth water as soon as the sticky insides made contact with his taste buds. How many times does he have to say he’s lucky in his mind?

And today, he had yet to find out. 

He was spoiled. 

Lavishing in her love for the past twenty-four days—more so than usual, soaking in it like the waffles he drowned in syrup for breakfast in the morning. 

Right after his birthday blowjob as soon as he woke up.

He ate those soft, perfectly crunchy, warm waffles in bed while basking in the golden afterglow of his orgasm. Breathless and dazed, he didn’t worry about a single thing as he moved from one waffle to the next, eating his favourite fruits, jams, chocolate chips, maple syrup, honey… all the things she knew he loved indecisively. 

And while she licked her lips clean of his cum, he licked his lips clean of whipped cream. 

God, he was lucky. 

She was awesome. More than awesome. 

There were no words he could find to describe her. 

The only problem with today was that he wasn’t gonna be the centre of just her attention. He could deal with that. He loved it, in fact. What he did not love was having to be the centre of attention with all his friends and family around. 

He just felt… maybe… shy. Embarrassed? Old? 

He wasn’t used to it. Not to that kind of attention from his friends, anyway. As much as they loved him and as much as he loved them. It was different. New. 

He was anxious about it. 

It was usually a phone call, a text, or nothing. He was fine with that. He didn’t really care. He was always hunting before. They were always busy with their hunts or their lives and birthday were always… whatever. 

He was used to Y/n. To the way she loved him. Worshipped him, even. Daily. It was almost the same as any other day, except for the gifts—which were grand, more… thoughtful and loving. As if she lived in his brain and heart, digging through his wishes and dreams to find the perfect gift to make him feel special. Something that lasted, something to be used, something to be loved by him. 

He was used to Sam. To the occasional, remorseless thieving of his little brother to get him what he thought he’d like. The singular, impactful gifts or the silly-joke gift he gave first to trick him into thinking it was something meaningless, thoughtless. The pat in the back, the hug, the pie, the childish decoration, the alcohol… a typical sibling birthday party meant to be laughed at. 

He was getting used to Cas. To the overuse of emoticons in the birthday text. The awkwardness in the hug before it settled and became comfortable to do. The thoughtful gift he recieved, something Dean mentioned whenever they hung out—even if it was ridiculous. Cas could get it. He’s an angel. And the best friend Dean could ever ask for. 

Jack… was, well, he’s Jack. He tried to copy Cas, Sam, Y/n. A mixture of all of the things they did, taking notes of what they were up to, finding something that was… him and not all of them. Dean’s heart softened and he cut Jack some slack, appreciating the effort, the thought he put into it, even if sometimes it was… bad. 

But now, some of his closest friends would be making their way to him and he was just not prepared for all of that.

What he was prepared for, was his girlfriend’s skillful ability to make a larger-than-necessary Rice Krispies Treat cake just for him. She liked it as much as he did now, replacing the traditional birthday cake—she wasn’t much of a cake fan. But his stomach’s heart did love those tres-leches cakes. 

Dean got dressed up as a cowboy as soon as Sam left to help Eileen prepare for the mini birthday party. He knew it did things to Y/n, even if she refused to admit it to him every time he brought it up or teased her about it. 

He tried to cling to her the whole day. 

He failed. 

She was up to secret stuff. 

He only got to be in her presence when she cooked or as she decorated the library where they’d later be embarrassing him with their loving attention. He helped her with all of that, of course—despite her protests. He’d hold her for a few minutes, kiss her a little bit, and then he’d follow behind her as if he couldn’t find anything better to do himself. 

He watched her pull out game after game, after game, and set it down on different tables. Cards Against Humanity. Loteria. UNO. Bingo. A few other classics, some from his childhood. And she was texting Sam the whole time for the location of each game, where to set it, agreeing on some and putting others away.

Dean didn’t mind. As long as there was something that took most of the attention away from him and towards something else. 

He played with the die from one of the games as he followed her around. His eyes traced over colourful candles, little horns to blow funny sounds out of, balloons, string, paper, confetti, banners, funny hats and glasses, and a dozen other items and decorations that made him feel like a kid again. 

Dean liked to watch her, and she liked watching his reaction to whatever she pulled out of the plastic bags he remembered watching Sam and Jack coming in with a few days ago. 

Dean was happy once she was done and finally resting from all the planning and tasks she was completing. She’d play with the buttons on his suit jacket by buttoning and unbuttoning them boredly as she took a break before heading off to the next activity. 

After she made the cake, she made extra for both of them to snack on—even though she’d also given him a piece before she prepared the Rice Krispies treat. The two of them waited for their friends to get to the Bunker and ate the small slice while watching a random movie on the television. 

Dean started to wonder what his brother would be getting him. Or Cas. Jack. Claire. Jody. Donna. Oh. He wanted to be sucked up into the couch, no, into Y/n’s soul. Just the thought of receiving a gift from everyone other than the people who currently lived in the Bunker made him flustered and embarrassed. 

He had no doubts the gifts would be good. Still, there was something about gifts and birthday parties that made him… uncomfortable. As much as he loved each and every single one of them, as much as he secretly adored being loved.. it felt like asking too much, even if this was all their idea. 

Even though he would do this and so much more for them. 

Dean didn’t know they were up to this until last week when Sam randomly brought it up. Y/n jumped on board immediately, then Jack did, and Cas. Jack and Cas were in charge of buying the snacks, which Dean appreciated because Sam tended to get distracted and would forget to buy some of the most important items—according to Dean, of course. The pie, being the main item.

Dean realised that neither he nor she were really paying attention to the movie. Their plates laid abandoned on the table next to the green leather couch they sat on. The cowboy hat was abandoned on Dean’s bed. She was tucked into the corner with one leg propped up in it with the other dangling over the edge. Dean settled on his back in between her legs with his head on her shoulder.

That was just the first step in seducing her. 

He wondered if he’d get more lottery tickets from everyone. If they’d bring some of the funniest, endearing birthday cards where they had to change the main title to for his age because he had the taste of a kid. He hoped they wouldn’t do something illegal like he knew Y/n and Sam were doing to make this the best birthday party for him. (Though, Dean was generally feeling pretty smug about their naughtiness.) 

He wouldn’t mind repeated gifts at all, as in… if Claire wanted to go mini-golfing with him and gave him another ticket… or if Jack simply wanted to try fishing with him again. He’d love that. To spend time with them. The people he cared most about. 

He played with her slim fingers, traced her knuckles, and teased the soft skin of her arms with his fingertips when she slipped them around his waist. He lifted her hands up to his lips, worshipping one thoroughly with his lips, warming them up for her. 

Her other hand rested over his chest where his heart was beating rapidly at the thought of what he wanted. Her hand laid still for a few seconds before she began to play with the buttons of his white dress shirt, then tapped her mossy-green nails against the ovaloid metal buckle of his belt. 

He dropped her hand gingerly to let her play with his clothes using both of her hands and he took to tracing her legs with his fingers over thick, warm pyjamas. He could feel her body release the tension of her stress, and for a moment, he smiled softly and felt his body do the same thing. 

When he turned to look at her, she glanced away from his chest where she was gently scratching his shirt to make the funny sound of cloth being scraped. He kissed her when she smiled at him, one small peck, not entirely innocent. 

The movie was long forgotten soon after that. Not that they were paying attention to it before anyway. 

Dean scooted up slightly to kiss her properly with one hand on her jaw, his fingers entwined through her soft hair, bringing her plush lips closer to his. It was unhurried, lazy, the slow build from firm, deep kisses, to demanding, heated ones that caused a blush to flare up their faces. 

Breathlessly, she began unbuttoning his shirt while he unbuckled his belt, but they continued kissing. His tongue slipped between her sweet lips, tasting more sweetness from the marshmallow and rice treat they ate not long ago. 

She brought the white t-shirt up his chest—excruciatingly slow—when she fully unbuttoned his dress shirt. Her fingertips slipped up the soft flesh of his tummy, his toned and freckled chest, then she flattened her palm over his rapidly thudding heart. Leisurely, she smoothed her hand down his soft, slightly scarred skin, brushing past the fine, blonde hair trailing down beneath his belly button.

Dean moaned into her mouth and impatiently lifted his hips from the couch. She snuck her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and curled her fingers around the base of his hardening length. Dean gasped against her kiss-swollen lips and closed his eyes tightly, promptly rolling his hips to push his cock through her fingers. 

“You look so hot like this,” she whispered against the corner of his lips. Dean squirmed and spread his legs when he planted his feet flat on the floor to aid each of his thrusts. Gently, she placed her other hand around his neck to tip his head back and to the side to place a feverish kiss to his cracked, pillowy lips. 

She continued moving her hand along his length, from root to tip, playing with the precum that began to accumulate and stain the cotton of his underwear. 

Dean’s chest rose and fell quickly with each breath, attempting to hold off his orgasm. His thighs tensed, muscles constricting beneath thin dress pants as she twisted her hand up and down his cock inside his slacks and boxers. His lips moved desperately against hers and he swiped his tongue across hers, his brows furrowed in mind-numbing pleasure.

Dean’s fingers dug into her thighs on either side of his body, trying to keep himself stable as his hips bucked up into her hand, driving his cock faster through her fingers. Her hand squeezed at the sides of his neck and released to make his brain fuzzier, neurons hazed with lust and need. 

“Please… I wanna be inside you, baby,” Dean panted against her lips as she kissed him. Instead, she rapidly continued to tug at his cock, her fist wrapped tightly around him until he felt like exploding. “I can’t- please- I need you,” he begged, but never dared to stop her as her lips trailed away to his jawline, to suck a dark mark on the sensitive skin of his neck. 

She suddenly loosened her grip on his cock and slowly slid her slick palm up the front of his body. His orgasm began to fade away and his body slumped against hers, his chests heaving with each breath, his heart racing. Her lips brushed against his earlobe, “you’re right…” she murmured.

“A-about what?” He mumbled, lifting himself up to turn and face her. She was smiling at him when he gazed at her, her eyes soft and full of love, mirroring the much more dishevelled expression on his own, pink face. 

Her eyes flickered away from his dewy green eyes when he leaned into her. He watched them travel up his body, from his thigh pressing into the leather next to her leg, to his boxers shoved low on his hips, exposing curly, light brown hair, his unzipped slacks and therather belt hanging losing around his hips, up to the opened dress shirt and t-shirt beneath draped haphazardly over his chest, and then her eyes stopped at his mouth. 

She tilted her head and met him the rest of the way to press her lips against his, placing a soft, adoring peck. “I do think cowboys are fucking hot, especially you,” she smirked, scratching gently at the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny hairs behind his head.

Dean bit his lip, mirroring her expression, and hummed, “is that right?” She nodded, her other hand slipping down to tease the waistband of his boxers. Dean’s calloused hands travelled up her sides, sneaking beneath her long-sleeved shirt, up warm, soft skin. “I already knew, just wanted to hear you say it.”

She laughed shortly, allowing Dean to lift her thick shirt up and off her body. Dean’s lips came down to her neck, hot and open-mouthed kisses flushing her skin. His hands traced her sides and eventually hooked at the top of her leggings to pull down the material covering her legs. He carefully let her lay down as she shifted to fully remove her leggings and underwear. 

But she sat upright once more before Dean could settle between her warm legs. Dean remained fully clothed and he laughed against her breasts when she impatiently shoved his slacks and boxers lower. His hands remained firmly on her body, exploring inches of familiar skin—squeezing, pulling, and holding. 

His soft lips moved over the expanse of her chest, teeth nibbling on sensitive flesh, his wet tongue tasting her velvety skin. Her hands made their way down past his cock to cup his balls, which made Dean’s brow rise in pleasant surprise, his mouth freezing around her nipple. 

He moaned around her skin and brought his own hand down between her legs as his cock bobbed excitedly. Warm slick coated his fingertips when he slid his fingers through her folds. With a pleased hum, she reached back to grip the wooden handle of the couch, and gently pressed her palm against his balls. 

He played with her clit, coating it in her arousal, then buried his middle finger inside her. She bit her lip and arched her back, a jolt from his thumb pressing into her clit causing her to moan. She removed her hand from between his legs—much to his disappointment—to dig her nails into his taut thigh. 

Dean dragged his tongue across her chest to attend to her other breast and dipped a second finger into her. Her pussy fluttered around his scissoring fingers, she whispered his name, moving her legs over his hips in a more comfortable position. Her hand slid up to bunch up in his shirt as her thighs twitched, screwing her eyes shut as the pleasure dazed her. 

Her shift in position brought her centre closer to him and he pushed a third finger into her, working her open thoroughly, expertly. Her wetness drenched his thick fingers, making every push and pull swift and easy. They curled inside her, rubbing delectably at her g-spot, pressing delightfully into the most sensitive parts of her walls. Her toes curled and she lifted herself up higher in his lap, implicitly urging him to skip to the fucking.

Dean instantly did as she wordlessly requested and pulled his glistening fingers out of her warmth. He stroked his cock a few times, first, watching her watch him coat himself in her excitement. He looked back down between their flushed bodies when he began moving his cock through her dewy folds, moaning contentedly at the sensation of her against him. 

She unclenched her hand from his shirt to bring up behind his neck, her delicate fingers slipping between short hairs. Finally, Dean pushed himself into her deliberately, then out gradually. Over and over they created a rhythm.

With one foot on the floor and his knee pressing into the backrest, his hands gripping her hips tightly. His lips connected to any part of her he could reach, moaning and gasping softly against her skin with every clench of her pussy, every measured thrust to feel every inch of her slide across his cock. 

Her arm flexed behind her as she moved with Dean, her fingers gripping the wooden arm of the couch tightly, timing each roll of her hips with his. Occasionally, she met every one of his thrust and brought his face closer to her with her fingers curled around the back of his neck.

His breath dampened her already steamy skin and his hands started to wander lovingly over her shiny body, feeling the exertion of her muscles beneath his calloused palms. 

Gradually, they began to move faster against each other. 

Dean’s body built up more heat with the clothes still covering every inch of him. His mouth went dry with every open-mouthed breath and he searched for her lips as a tingle ran up his spine, his stomach clenching to foreshadow his impending orgasm. 

He felt her breath against his lips and her fingers moved deeper into his hair, tugging so his mouth fell open. Her lips moved over his, her wet tongue bringing moisture back into his mouth, and over his chapped lips. Dean kissed her back with so much more force, easing his tongue into her mouth when she pulled hers out to smirk into the kiss. 

He squeezed her ass, painfully pressing his fingers into her back, desperately trying to feel her against his body. He fucked into her briskly, with strong thrusts that pressed his cock deeper into her channel until she squirmed from how good it was. He swallowed her pleased groan and brought her closer with his arm around her waist and his palm flat against her back. 

Dean’s thrust became erratic, every slam of his hips and every roll of hers made contact with her clit, bringing her close to the edge with him. Every touch of each other’s bodies, every hot and lewd kiss, every heavy and fast breath, every breathless and pleasured sound, every wet and hot sensation built up like volatile chemicals.

With a few final thrusts, Dean came with a groan of her name by her ear. She squeezed his cock tightly and cursed at the sensation of his hot cum coating her insides. Her thighs pressed into his hips as she orgasmed with a sharp gasp, clinging to him as they rode out their climax.

Dean ground his hips up into her, keeping himself deep inside her as she shook and held him in a tight embrace. Their lips met once more for a softer, more elated kiss as they became blanketed in the afterglow of their release. She released the wooden arm of the couch to cup Dean’s scruffy jaw and Dean’s arms circled around her waist.

He moved backwards carefully and laid her down onto her back, allowing her to fully wrap her legs around his waist. Dean shoved his suit jacket and dress shirt off as they kissed. She smiled against his mouth and let him pull away fully from her lips to watch him throw both items onto his bed. 

“It was cold before, but it’s hot now,” he muttered, pulling his t-shirt up over his head by the back of the neck. She giggled and brought her hands to his ass, moving his pants and underwear lower, past his thighs. 

“Well…” she trailed off, gazing at him as he slowly pulled his cock out of her. “Hey,” she pouted, moving his attention away from the mess between her legs and the mixture of their spendings leaked out of her. 

“Uh, yeah?” He grinned, moving off the couch to kick off the cowboy boots, and everything else so he was fully naked before her. 

“Your last gift,” she started, looking over to the bed. Before returning to his spot between her legs, Dean followed her eyes and lifted a brow. “It’s under your pillow,” she smiled shyly, looking up at him as his lips parted and then made an ‘o’. 

“Awesome,” he murmured, making his way to his side of the bed. He searched underneath with a swipe of his hands beneath the cool pillow and grabbed the small, somewhat heavy box decorated with pink wrapping paper and a silver bow. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it curiously.

She laughed at him, taking the unused napkin from the table to clean herself up, which distracted Dean from his gift. He was about to protest, offering to clean her up, but she laughed. He pouted at her, but settled back in her arms in the same position as before once she finished.

“I really… really hope you like this one,” she whispered against his shoulder. Dean looked back at her and smiled softly—his eyes reassuring her that he’d like anything that came from her. He carefully pulled at one end of the bow to watch it fall apart into a straight line. 

He ripped the paper to reveal a wooden box. Dean imagined a necklace, if the thud against the soft cushion inside the box revealed anything about what it actually was. 

A ring? He planned on proposing, but he’d say yes if she turned the tables. He smiled at the thought, but he doubted that they were stepped enough into a normal life for that. If it were up to him, he’d have asked her to marry him ages ago. 

He opened the box slowly and blinked at the steel key. 

“A… key?” He asked out loud, turning his body to look at her as she waited for his reaction anxiously. 

“I… bought a house?” She squeaked, her cheeks turning dark. Dean’s lips parted. He wanted to question her, to make a comment about what the place looked like or where it was or how much it cost, to say anything, but his throat tightened and clogged any words from escaping. With his tongue heavy in his mouth, there was no hope to ease her anxiety. He shut it instead. “For you- us. You and me…” she rambled, wrapping her hand around his to shut the box as if it were Pandora’s box—unleashing her deepest fears, but worst of all, her hope. 

“I…” Dean trailed off, staring at the wooden exterior of the square container. A little box that would give him the future he’s secretly always yearned for with her. He was too much of a coward to ever do anything and go for it. Her hand moved away from his and she shifted behind him awkwardly, pushing him off her so he’d face her instead. 

“You don’t…” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “It’s okay, if you don’t want… this…” She snatched the gift away from him as if she’d show him her deepest secret and had been judged for revealing what it was. 

“No! I-I do want this,” Dean reassured her and quickly took it back to open it, and remove the key from inside. He placed it on his palm, cold, small, and light against his sweaty skin. “I just…” His eyes flickered up to hers, the guarded and nearly stony expression on her face twisting his stomach in regret. “I love you,” he breathed, pressing his lips against the corner of her lips. 

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip, her eyes dancing over his face to gauge any emotion or shift that would hint to reveal he was truly feeling. “I don’t want you to be unhappy… if you don’t want this, it’s okay. You can tell me. I have a backup gift anyway,” she shrugged casually, moving to sit on her legs next to him.

She gazed at the side of his face as he continued to make her heart plummet with the long stare at the key in his hand. 

“Why?” He asked with knitted brows, looking at her. He could tell she felt much more bare and vulnerable as she crossed her arms over his chest and kept herself covered with her own body.

“I didn’t know if I wanted to give it to you just yet,” she admitted. Dean frowned. “But after today… the way you followed me around and helped me.. I changed my mind,” she shrugged again, “but it’s okay if we both want something different, if you’re not ready… you know I’d wait…” She smiled nervously, so it didn’t last, and her mouth returned to a straight line.

“No more waiting, baby.” Dean shook his head and put the key back into the box, leaving it beside him to take her hands. He lifted them both up to his lips, staring into her eyes to demonstrate his earnestness, “you waited long enough.” 

“I promise you that I’m ready,” he reassured her, brushing his thumbs against her knuckles. “This gift… it means so much to me. I do, truly, love you.” Dean tugged her hands and she finally laughed, allowing herself to be happy with him. In this moment. And forever. No more waiting. 

As he held her, Dean pictured the future they could have together and let his body rest without fear of everything else going on. For once, he’d let himself be happy. It was the one way he could let go of Sam, allowing both himself and his baby brother a shot at a normal life, something Dean wanted for himself and Sam for so long. This was the first step to freedom. 

“Happy birthday, Dean,” she whispered against his forehead, kissing the tiny scar that resided there. 

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @the-achievementhunter @deanfreakingwinchester @k-slla @madzzz0797 @laylaackles @fanfic-n-tabulous @kristophalis @mrlonelycat @taylortots-world @evznackles @ohnosy @juicyballsworld @angelbabyyy99 @girls-alias @impala1967rollingthroughtown @kezibear @kaleldobrev @iwishiwasntreal @pasteldecrack @blackcherrywhiskey @dayhsdreaming @littlemadamred

or follow @deanbrainrotlibrary for fic notifications

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

dean’s 45th birthday celebration masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[mariacallous]

of course I am absolutely going to flirt with Malgus, thank you swtor and bioware/broadsword

this makes me laugh every time

also, there's a nightmare ship for you

[antisolararc]

4 and/or 5 for the worldbuilding prompts !

This is looong, so I'll put them under the cut.

4. What are some major landmarks you encounter on your travels? Do locals tell tales about their origin? Write about how these experiences might affect you as you continue on your journey.

THE SEA OF SOLACE

As the ship approached, the silhouette in the mist begins to sharpen. Meru, the great volcano, greeted them in the distance. They were already familiar, of course. Well, sort of. Meridian had never been there, but they knew plenty about it - it's the center of the universe! In the days before anyone reached it, they said it was so high up that its peak pierced the heavens. Once people got there, they brought it down, though. Far down, they thought spitefully.

Even from here, they could see that the surface of the mountain had an opalescent shine to it . They squinted. It was kind of overwhelming, actually. Golden clouds poured down from the caldera and congregated around waterline, keeping the island afloat. They weren't close enough to see Ruyi, yet, though. Meru's evil stepsister had a much lower elevation.

A great magicians' circle had taken over Meru, or so they'd been told. Primarily benevolent, but not above the great sway of politics and violence. 'They've got this code,' Reynardine had said. 'They're really serious about it. Best I don't play around with them too much.' When Mery had inquired further, he'd just shrugged.

Ruyi, on the other hand, was under no such rule. The magicians' circle observed, sure, and intervened if they thought it was a threat to them, but sounded like just about anything went at the sorcerers' market. That was the appeal, after all. Anything you desire for the right price.

They peeled their hands off the guardrail and slowly, stiffly, headed back inside. Thinking about it too much was making them uneasy.

XALABASE

Eyes wide, Odd stared for longer than he would have liked. He hadn't expected it to be this impressive. The temple was a whole complex within itself. Later, he'd just blame the pictures, but, inwardly, he admitted to himself that he didn't realize it was possible to make (not to mention maintain ) a structure like this without the aid of magic.

It was easily as elaborate as one of Ranlindyr's monoliths. Not only that, though -- unlike the sleek, smooth monoliths, every surface was intricately detailed with some sort of art. In the center of the courtyard, a great sculpture of the universe had been automated to keep the time.

Faintly, he could hear it ticking. That's annoying. Luckily, he could make his own devices run with complete silence -- otherwise, it would seriously increase his odds of being caught. Well, he supposed that was one thing they hadn't figured out yet.

VALONVYR

Suddenly, the barren landscape turned into a forest of palms. If it felt uncomfortably unnatural, that's because it was. The trees were unnaturally, artificially green in a way that clashed with just about everything they'd seen thus far. And, of course, the ad banners hung in-between them didn't help. On the left, "DON'T FORGET, GOD ALWAYS REMEMBERS." On the right, "SLIPPERY STEVE'S HASH SHACK -> 1 MILE OFF EXIT 3."

"Wellspring City!" Ivrel threw her hands up with a derisive scoff. "The jewel of the desert! The oasis of indulgence! Why, the good lord must've put all his favorite souls here, lest the dust sap all their virtue out and leave 'em like tadpoles with a puddle. S'pose someone's gotta stay late to clean up after, too, though..." She scratched her chin. What the hell was that, a monologue? She was letting Tjong rub off on her too much.

Next to her, Zee didn't really seem to absorb any of what she said -- she was too busy trying not to sideswipe any trees along the ever-twisting road.

"Ah!" She yelped as she made a sharp right. "Why's the road like this!? What's with these trees!?"

"It's a windbreak," Ivrel grumbled.

"With palm trees? I didn't think those grew here..."

"They don't."

The implication must have been clear enough, because Zee only replied with "oh."

RANLINDYR

Instinctively, Vita jumped.

This thing stood out as starkly different from the rest of the city. It wasn't unnaturally smooth, it was scaled. Great spires of glass shot out from its back, each glistening with a different color. She glared at the gargantuan gargoyle with distaste. What bizarre waste of space! It's own grotesquely painted eyes threatened to subjugate her own, though, so she quickly redirected her gaze.

She leaned into Odd, tugging on his arm so she could whisper in his ear. Begrudgingly, he obliged.

"What the hell is that!?

"...What?"

They jerked their head in the direction of the strange structure.

"Oh." A pause. "That's the Obsidian Crocodile," he said, as if it was obvious. "Never heard of public art?"

"It's garish!" She clicked her tongue. "I wouldn't figure this fits within the city beautification guidelines."

"Uh, yeah, I think that's the point." He crossed his arms. "It's supposed to remind us of our sins, or whatever." He didn't meet her eyes. "I mean, you can figure it out..." Suddenly hesitant, Odd trailed off.

Yeah, Vita could figure it out alright.

They turned away from him as their frowned deepened. Ranlindyr had a sort of melancholy simmering beneath its skin that she hadn't quite anticipated. It wasn't like Valonvyr, where grief turned to brazen displays of bloodshed. Here, the vulgarity lurked more subtly. Much to her displeasure, it made it made the hair on her arms stand straight -- something that her homeland had never done, despite it all.

LANTERN ISLAND

Just the sight of it made her a little uneasy. She'd only seen The Traveler's ship a few times, and, even then, she'd always quickly averted her gaze, praying not to catch the eye of a malicious spirit. Other people stayed to watch for it with a sort of glee in their eye. Some even managed to board the ship. A few returned with ancient treasures, but others never returned at all. There must have been an intricate labyrinth inside.

Zee used to wonder why anyone would do that -- so scary, so dangerous, and for what? A piece of history they'd have to shun? But things were different now. She understood, perhaps too well. The old Kalayan vessel brought with it a sea of fog, and it suddenly became much harder to see.

"Was that the boat?" Meridian asked from somewhere in the haze.

"Uh, yeah! It's super haunted!"

"...No kidding, ah?"

KALIBARU

Theoretically, it was very easy to slip into an alleyway in Kalibaru, considering the sheer abundance of them. In practice, his size served as a significant setback. Tjong was used to feeling large, and, usually, he rather liked it. Right now, though, he felt like he took up too much space in the crowd, despite the fact that he went largely (unusually) unacknowledged. Vendors crowed at him, hawking souvenirs and street food that he couldn't eat, but only children bothered to shy away from him as though he was a beast.

Although he'd never admit it, he once fantasized about such a thing. To traverse the world as if he were a human, or at least something akin to one. Perhaps his fantasies had been naive. To his right, another, smaller path branched out in-between two buildings. Before the crowd could surge again, he slipped into it.

The light wasn't so bright here, thanks to the looming shadow of a massive complex of shophouses. The alley opened up to a small courtyard with a stone carving of a horned frog in the center. Water poured from its gaping mouth into a little pond. The chatter of the masses had disappeared, replaced by the gurgling fountain.

Unlike the main road, this area was empty, at least for the time being. In comparison, the emptiness should have felt uncanny, but Tjong found that it was far more comfortable. It reminded him of his home, in a way that most of the city was simply too lively to do.

As he wandered, an old stone shrine caught his eye. It was for some local ancestor he was unfamiliar with. The structure itself was weathered, but, even so, recent offerings lay before it -- fresh fruit, pastries, shells, finely crafted trinkets.

He paused to examine it with a wistful longing in his eyes.

Longing for what? He wasn't sure he could say.

5. Write about someone you’ve lost along your adventures, how did you deal with that loss?

"Apologies, perhaps this is impolite…" Anata clasped their hands. "But Dr. Alquarix's death-"

"He was asking for it." Odd curled in on himself defensively.

Literally. Even if, despite his great accolades, he didn't truly understand what he was asking for.

"I don't doubt that he was." They laughed. Don't laugh at me. "But you followed along, didn't you? I suppose your reason is obvious, I was just curious… Why then? What was the breaking point?" The old man was excruciatingly good at pulling out the most loaded questions as if they were just the tiniest bit indelicate.

Odd shrugged, looking away. "…I dunno. It was just… all of it, really." He shook his head. "The opportunity was there. Who could blame me?" A lot of people, it turned out. He growled, baring his teeth. "Long overdue, anyways. Someon- I should have done it earlier!" Well, that part was the truth, at least. His face flushed in embarrassment. Shame for how foolish he'd always been. Hindsight's twenty-twenty, huh?

"Are you relieved?" Anata's knowing smile made him itch. "To be free. Now you can follow your dreams!"

"Yeah." His voice was hollowed. "I can follow my dreams."

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

《山河令》 Word of Honor | Episode 14, english subtitles by the Honourable Team @ Viki Rakuten, put into wrong order by mee >:)))))

For my first step, I will abolish all your martial arts and dissipate all of your internal force. No objections, right? Once I remove the nails, your internal force will completely crush all of your already dried-up meridians. Without my martial arts—am I still me? If not, what is the point of life? If I don‘t abolish your martial arts, you won‘t even be able to pass the first step. Thank you for worrying about me, Qianbei. I won‘t trouble you anymore.

[vikenticomeshome]

Meridian 157 - Prologue (Walkthrough and Story Discussion) (part 4/4)

Alright, here we are in the final part of the prologue. We've had a long journey so far. After wandering around the mysterious island, solving bizarre puzzles along the way, David Zander has obtained the three rings and opened the door to the bunker.

As you enter the bunker, you see that this area also has power. You can also see that the path slopes down ahead of you. You realize that this is still only the beginning of a long journey to come.

You see the symbol on the wall. As you look upon the three diamonds that cut the circle into thirds, you wonder what F.L.A.R.E. stands for. This is the first time you have seen any organization name associated with whatever is going on with this island.

As you step forward, you find that your good luck has run out. The passage ahead has been flooded right up the ceiling. You won't be able to get through without a way to breathe underwater and see where you are swimming.

You double-back down the corridor. You spy a flashlight on the shelves to your left, alongside a wet-suit. You have the scuba mask and scuba tank from earlier, and you are delighted to add them to the wet-suit.

The world beneath the water is a bit blurry, even though the goggles. but you have a fighting chance now.

You come to a fork in your path. You start wondering how long this place has been flooded. You still have yet to see another living person. You decide to start with the path to the left.

You find yourself in a flooded storage area. The place is a mess, but the hand-drill on the shelves to your right looks to be salvageable.

After returning to the fork, you push forward and find yourself in a dry hallway again. You can see a wall hatch on your left and an elevator up ahead.

At you approach the elevator, you start to wonder if you are in over your head. Still, without the fuel to take your boat back to Anchorage, and no people around the island to help you, your best chance of getting anywhere is to go forward. You enter the elevator.

Unfortunately, the switch to send yourself down doesn't work. The elevator isn't moving.

You leave the elevator, and you check out the hatch at the wall. Unfortunately, it has rusted shut over the years. You need some sort of oil to get it moving. You try to remember if you've seen any on the island.

Yes, there was a barrel full of oil in the tunnel that you opened with the bolt-cutters earlier.

But, how do you get the oil out? The barrel is heavy, and it has been sealed shut.

You have the drill from the underwater storage area to open the cap on the barrel. You have the hose that you found hanging from the fence. And you have the empty gas can from earlier. You are able to siphon all of the oil that you need. You are able to return to the hatch add the oil, and finally wrench it open.

You find yourself puzzled at what you see. You realize that you need to get the C-shaped piece of metal from the top left of the mechanism to the contacts at the middle right. This will complete the circuit, and you hope that it will power the elevator. This reminds you of some sliding puzzles that you played with as a child. But then, why would they wire up the building like this?

You quickly realize that the blocks can only be moved in their length-wise direction, which complicates your strategy. There is also a hole in the tray, and nothing is able to cross it.

You realize pretty quickly that your C-Shaped block will not be able to use the space on the upper part of the board, as there are too many blocks. No, you need to get your C-shaped block to the lower part of the board to have any hope to progress, as the board is less congested there.

You are pleased to see your C-shaped block getting closer to the goal by taking the lower path. Now you need to try to shift the blocks on the upper row to open more of the path.

You're very close now.

At last, your C-shaped block is in place.

It is now time to take the elevator down and discover the truth about the storm.

You re-enter the elevator, and it starts to move. However, after descending a few floors, the elevator loses power. As you are plunged into darkness, you curse your decision to come all of this way, and dig into things that were best left buried.

Editors Notes: And with that, the prologue ends. I am planning to make posts for Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3 to completely document the series.

[themagicmistress]

There is something wrong with Shen Qingqiu.

There has been as long as Liu Qingge’s known him, but it used to be that he spoke with the too-sharp syllables of a young master and liked to smack his fan in his palm like he was thinking of stabbing you with it. Now, the genre of ‘wrong’ Liu Qingge associates with Shen Qingqiu has more to do with the way he takes his youngest disciples for rides on Xiu Ya and keeps a specific teacup for Liu Qingge’s visits.

Can a qi deviation change one’s entire personality? Down to the way they speak?

“See, shidi?” Shen Qingqiu tilts up the scale of their latest catch with his blade. Underneath glitters a hard, reflective surface. “They’ve got two hides! Ah, only complete noobs scrape it off without clipping it from the skeleton.”

Liu Qingge doesn’t know what a noob is.

“Is it more valuable that way?” He says.

With a flick of his sword, Shen Qingqiu snatches out the top scale.

“It’s about pride! Are you cultivator or an idiot with a sharp object, hacking down everything in your path?” Shen Qingqiu grumbles. “This is good loot.

Shen Qingqiu is much more serene in viscera up to his forearms than at the Peak Meetings, Liu Qingge notes. He thinks doing this–the complaining as much as finding the creature itself–might be where Shen Qingqiu is at his most content. This is the man who grins behind his fan when Shang Qinghua spills tea in his own lap.

He raises an eyebrow at Liu Qingge. A curved, silver carapace balances in his one hand, a stack of silver scales piled inside. All finished, then. Liu Qingge offers him a hand, but Shen Qingqiu’s already risen to his feet.

Liu Qingge lowers it, but Shen Qingqiu’s already taken it with a mildly amused look on his face.

“I think we’ve moved past these sorts of formality by now,” Shen Qingqiu… wiggles Liu Qingge’s hand? He rattles it up and down and Liu Qingge doesn’t really know what’s happening. “But sure! Good job to both of us today.”

He lets go after a few seconds. Liu Qingge puts his hand down, his skin faintly tingling. Internally, he notes that in certain situations, if he gives Shen Qingqiu his hand, Shen Qingqiu will clasp it in his own.

He’ll have to pay attention to what times it would be appropriate to do it again.

“We were efficient,” Liu Qingge says in what he hopes is a normal voice. He’s fine. He clears Shen Qingqiu’s meridians all the time. “Your knowledge of the Five Mouth Mountain Pangolin is impressive.”

“Please,” Shen Qingqiu waves a hand dismissively. “If you don’t know about their three acid stomachs, you’re hardly a scholar.”

“Don’t forget the second hide,” Liu Qingge says.

Liu Qingge drops his sword for them to ride and Shen Qingqiu grins.

“Don’t quote my words to me!” Shen Qingqiu bats his shoulder with a hand, stepping onto Cheng Luan, “Eventually I’ll run out of things to tell you. Shidi, you don’t have to listen to me rambling so closely. I’ll get self-conscious.”

“I’ll make sure to forget everything you said by next time,” Liu Qingge says.

Cheng Luan sprints into the sky and Shen Qingqiu laughs. It sounds nothing like his laugh. It sounds beautiful.

Yes, there is something wrong with Shen Qingqiu. Deeply. Intrinsically. But Liu Qingge doesn’t mind so much. The parts that are wrong are his friend. And someday, more than.

[nightspires]

Jen's personal masterlist of audiodrama podcasts

Disclaimer: When reading this list, please keep in mind that my likes/dislikes do not inherently mean that X podcast is objectively good and Y podcast is objectively bad. These are just my personal preferences. I will also update this list as I try new shows! Last updated: 27 December 2024.

All time fave shows:

Ie, have listened entirely, and in some cases have listened through multiple times

HAUNTED: The Audio Drama

King Falls AM

The Black Tapes

The Bright Sessions

We're Alive (the original run)

Wolf 359

Other shows I thought were good:

Alba Salix

ars PARADOXICA

Badlands Cola

Borrasca

Brimstone Valley Mall

Dark Air with Terry Carnation

EOS10

Girl in Space

Hardboiled

Hello from the Magic Tavern (actual play)

Moonbase Theta, Out

Olive Hill

Parkdale Haunt

The Adventure Zone (actual play - specifically the original Balance arc, but I also really enjoyed Amnesty)

The Ghost Radio Project (idk what happened to this one, it's been scrubbed from existence)

The Pasithea Powder

The Shadow over Innsmouth

The Strange Case of Starship Iris

The Two Princes

Victoriocity

Wooden Overcoats

Shows I listened to quite a lot of (10+ episodes), but didn't finish as I wasn't super into them:

Note: I could be persuaded to pick these back up!

Archive 81

Dungeons & Daddies (actual play/TTRPG)

Limetown

Malevolent

Red Valley

Sinkhole

The Magnus Archives

Welcome to Night Vale

Shows I tried (<10 episodes) but couldn't get in to:

Note: I could also be persuaded to pick these back up and listen to some more eps!

2298

Arden

Blackwood

Bridgewater

Boomtown

BOOM: A Serial Drama

Camlann

Camp Here & There

Coexistence

Death by Dying

Desperado

Gone

Greater Boston

Hello from the Hallowoods

I Am in Eskew

Lake Clarity

Mable

Mayfair Watchers Society

Midnight Burger

Monstrous Agonies

Oak Podcast

Old Gods of Appalachia

Penumbra podcast

TANIS

Terms

The Amelia Project

The Big Loop (anthology)

The Far Meridian

The Mistholme Museum

The Silt Verses

The White Vault

Tribulation

SAYER

The Secret of St Kilda

WOE.BEGONE

Shows on my list to try:

Darkest Night

Dracula: The Dance Macabre

Finding Satan

Gray Matter

Hi Nay

Jar of Rebuke

Knight Falls, CA

Life With Althar

Light House

Mission Rejected

Neighbourly

New Year's Day

Polybius

Redwood Bureau

Rex Rivetter: Private Eye

Station Arcadia

Stellar Firma

Tapes From Beyond

The Cryptonaturalist

The Darkroom

The Hidden Almanack

The Kingmaker Histories

The Left Right Game

The Shadow Diaries

The Six Disappearances of Ella McCray

The Storage Papers

The Subjective Truth

Video Palace

Weeping Cedars

World Gone Wrong

if you want to recommend me something that isn't on this list or want to advocate for a show i should give more of a chance to, send me a message!

[feralwetcat]

Looks slowly

....wwsmp modern hero/villain/vigilante au:3

HEAR ME OUT

The towns are all different corps, training people to defend the overall city

Copperbend is falling apart, one of its leaders going slowly insane without the power of control (aka just canon karkhoal..) as a smaller group forms out of its gaze known as Haven, a group of vigilantes, a mix of everyone from other corps

Meridian is... Fine. Its just fine. Right? They run secret experiments on an odd infection that causes animals, objects, and flora to change wildly, its known as Nether (for short. The full version is unknown)

Bonsai is seemingly constantly under attack, it tries to stay neutral and or positive, and yet always seems to be under fire, as its pride and joy, the oasis, an odd center of magic that sits inside jts HQ becomes corrupted with X over time

(for context, the agencies/corps only train people, they do not dictate what you do with the training, though its often aimed for positive, most people form their smaller groups after a while)

The X spreads. Its.. its weird... They can't tell if its a organic thing, or if its manmade, even so they don't even know if its a virus, or some form of manifestation. But all they know is it spreads

And its not good. It hurts people. Even if some people have lessened effects, it still hurts them.

(hybrid things are still here, though powers are options)

....i have too many au ideas