#oh modding. you ruin my life every day

[infernalcrypt]

ouughghh my older bg3 saves still aren't loading correctly despite me attempting to fix everything w my mods :(( glad i finished my run that i was super attached to b4 patch 7. think i'm just gonna remake my fourth run? cause im only like 3 hours in. but GOD. ARGHFHJF

[dragonsdendoodles]

What do you think the children would watch on YouTube? What would their favorite youtubers and content be?

Oh god time to just scream my age on the internet

Also for the record if any of these people are problematic I don’t know about it or what happened my entire YouTube feed for the past six years has been Reddit stories and video essays I use for background noise when I draw so if I mention someone sucky I’m sorry I haven’t consumed their content since at least middle school

For starters, I think Emma, Millard, and Horace avoid it altogether out of principle. Emma and Horace because people are stupid and they cannot believe this is what modern entertainment is and Millard because he has ruined many videos by pointing out every inaccuracy he could find and he got sick of the cesspool of misinformation that is the internet.

Jacob has been watching Minecraft videos since the beginning of the damn site. Specifically he discovered iHasCupquake and DanTDM a couple years after joining the loop and now when he’s bored and in a time with internet access he watches Minecraft Oasis and DanTDM’s Custom Mod Adventures on repeat. Noor is the exact same way, but with life hack videos very obviously aimed at middle school girls that have stuff like painting staples with nail polish and sneaking candy into class via empty glue sticks. Think Wengie and SaraBeautyCorner. They actually grew up with this so it’s more about the nostalgia than anything else

Enoch likes history videos. And videos about games like War Thunder and World of Tanks. He also likes Vine compilations, discovered when Jacob and Noor were quoting vines to each other and Enoch joined with them having absolutely zero knowledge he even knew what that was. (Horace also begrudgingly knows what Vine was, but instead of saying “yeah I sure hope it does” to Enoch’s “road work ahead???” he goes “I hate you and everything you stand for” and Enoch laughs.)

Olive, Claire, and Bronwyn watch Gacha Life/Club/whatever the fuck they’re on now I don’t know anymore music videos and Vine compilations. Bronwyn is here for quality control. (Bronwyn’s favorite YouTube series is Rosanna Pansino’s Nerdy Nummies series, even though she has no idea what any of the references are. What she does know is that she showed Jacob the Angry Birds cupcakes and he demanded they be made that exact day.)

Hugh is fascinated by all this but has little to no idea what’s going on. He did however get very invested in Sanders Sides and is very impatiently waiting with me for Orange to be revealed.

Fiona also doesn’t know what’s going on but she thinks Warrior Cats AMVs and multi-animator projects are INSANE she loves them and gets very sad when Noor is helping her look them up and they find out yet another creator is problematic

[moonpoolcat]

Personal question but you said in your bio you were abandoned by the last fandom you were a part of? how did that happen if you don't mind me asking?

Oh I can for sure answer that. The last fandom I was a part of was a sci-fi based furry server I had been a part of for years. I treated everyone there like family, my art improved because of them and I looked up to the owner of the server like a second parent an I regret it to this day. However the owner of the discord server allowed children to run her server an be in an area that was 13 an up when it should have been 18 an up. I was openly stalked an harassed by a dam 15 year old for 2 years an I had screenshots worth of evidence and the mods did nothing- The server was severely toxic and I had called out it's issues twice to where I was banned not once but three FUCKING TIMES! Do you understand that they made me to be the bad guy because I refused to keep my mouth shut. She let mods abuse their power an did nothing, she hired random strangers with no mod application to be admins even though there were users who had been there since the servers opening an were never chosen it was all favoritism from the start. One of those bans was for an entire year an they didn't even let me back in after a month when they promised to let me rejoin. I was forgotten... I was a pest. A RAT to them. I was on a list of troublemakers when I had done nothing but try an keep the server safe, even accidentally co-running it because none of the mods were on until I said something that pissed them off. They didn't defend anyone unless it was their stupid little friend group giving them extra privilege's. DO NOT make it obvious you have favorites I will openly hate you for your entire existence. Keep that shit to yourself an don't enrage your fans. This child made unwanted unconsented ships, lore broke an bypassed multiple rules, had a futa kink, misrepresented lesbians, the trans community multiple times misrepresented people with multiple personality disorders, fact checking, an overall being a dick to everyone. As of now I am banned forever an no longer allowed to return, the place I once called home is now gone forever, the countless ocs I drew are long forgotten an i have been abandoned. All because of poor management... This is why I don't talk to younger users an have openly wrote in my bio that I don't want them dm me on this platform. I am openly blunt an none of them would handle an argument with me even if they tried. It just reminds me that no matter what I do everyone will always say "they're just a kid" MAN FUCK THAT! If you do some dumb shit I'm calling you out on it I don't care how young you are you're old enough to make an account, you're aware of what's right or wrong don't be stupid your actions have consequences. You want to be an adult I'll treat you like one. Go fucking cope for all i care. To this day I had successfully managed to get them banned from every server an I will keep doing it until they erase themselves from the internet.

Fuck with my life I break your legs so no one cna help you :) Call this controversial I don't care much social is a distaser now. ELIAM WHITE IF YOU'RE READING THIS FUCK YOU! GO KILL YOURSELF YOU SCUMBAG YOU ABSOLUTELY RUINED MY LIFE. since you can't even bother to change your username on any social media platform. I hope everyone on here knows you're a zoophile for fetishising Dobermans, wolves, dragons, and any form of big cat. No your stupid mutt of a dog is not part wolf stop bragging about it. Your lore an ocs are complete ass no one wants to read that shit garbage you call a fandom. YOU DO NOT HAVE ADHD, no one makes notes of strangers on their phones, stalks their timezones an hits on their oc the moment they create one. You hate everyone who's in a relationship trying to be a third wheel you creep. NOT TO MENTION YOU'RE A PEDO FOR SHOWING PORN TO MINORS YOUNGER THAN YOU! YOU ACTIVELY HAVE NOTHING BUT ADULTS FOR FRIENDS YOU WILL GET THEM ALL SENT TO JAIL! And for anyone else reading this from that server I hope you know that you are all good for nothing traitors an have ignored my pleas for help for far too long. None of you believed in me an none of you bothered to see what this little boy has done. Fuck you all. GO FUCK YOURSELVES!!!

[beartitled]

Hello there!! I was looking through some of the discord shenanigans posts and I was just wondering if you’re accepting new members?

Hi! Well first of all, glad you enjoyed the comics! It means a lot to know that you enjoyed those silly shenanigans ❤️

Sadly I’ve already left the server recently, so can’t really help much 🤷

For ppl curious my rambling, as always, will be under read more👇

As for you question:

the server’s called “TSP creators club”

yes, I believe they still accept new members, you can contact @/kelpiekidd or @/heckinrissa I think (not tagging them, to not disturb them)

They’re mods there, should help with it 🤷

This might sound weird to some ppl bc I was heavily associated with TSPcc

To be frank I wouldn’t be where I am right now, if not TSPcc: I would’ve never stuck with The Stanley Parable for as long as I did, never could’ve met so many wonderful creative people (many of whom are my friends right now)

+the server kick-started my recognition as a creator

For that I’m thankful and still look back at this part of my life with a warm smile

But nothing can last forever

(god I’m saying it like something horrible happened, which is not the case)

Basically

The reasons are mostly the same as why I left the TNP fic*: I’m not active on the server + most of my friends left from there

(*TNP - The Narrative Parable fanfic – a collaborative project involving many other creators and narrators)

So um yea, this might not be enough of a reason

But I will not do a whole comic on “The history of TSP fandom” right 📓🖋️

(oh wait I might actually 😭💥 you will maybe get this joke far in the future)

___________________

I also want to address

Discord Shenanigans aged, quite a lot

I do not regret making those comics, I still like them to this day

But

That content is not something I want to be known for, to me, it’s part of the past

I look back at them as archived memories

They are like an old photo album of sorts 📒

____________________

This does not mean I’m leaving TSP fandom

Want to be clear on that one

I still enjoy the game and the community it built around itself

Yes I still enjoy the fandom, despite meaningless drama in the community that ruins the fun for everyone

(It’s my first fandom I was a part of, I’m biased ok 😈)

‼️ I do not justify any messed up people who are or were in the fandom ‼️

What I’m trying to say that drama/creepy people are just part of any fandom experience honestly

I totally understand people who just don’t want to be a part of the fandom, it’s reasonable and valid. I’ve heard some really messed up stuff, I don’t know the full extent of every situation and don’t want to discuss it. I don’t believe I have the right, nor the information to even mention it. Creeps are not a fandom’s problem, creeps are just a problem.

And if people don’t want to address those situations: do not harass them with questions. If people want to address their experience or thoughts, they will. If they don’t want to start drama/don’t feel comfortable/just simply don’t want to - you should respect their decision. No person is obligated to report anything to the crowd.

On the side note (since I can’t shut up) - Barry

I kinda 👀

I kinda wanna explore him as a character and tell the story I made for him 👀✨

I will make a separate post about him later down the road

But as for now: yes the potential story revolves around tsp + Narratorverse aspects, yes I may abandon that idea bc of how complicated it is, yes I’m talking and overthinking too much - we will get there when we get there 🤚

So I’m still here, I still care about tsp creators: they do amazing stuff and they are wonderful people

As always sorry for that scroll of text 👉👉 thanks for your time, see you in the next random huge text post 👋

[the-ultimate-pie-family]

Copper encounter with the pie family part 4

"Copper power turned on, but she heard fighting already she peeked out of the room." Hello? Get back here, Belle pie. I'm not done with you yet. "Belle ran past copper as blood was right behind her." Grandma pinkie!!!!! "Copper was confused." Oh hi B, what's up? My dad woke me up for school he woke all of us up, B..... "The rest of bloods kids started walking downstairs. Some looked older than others, but she saw the tiniest mare with a broken horn, an alicorn wings. " What you looking at puke? Hahahah "Don't mind her copper. Isn't she an alicorn? supposed to be, but something happened where she couldn't take the thorne, oh? that must've been terrible. One would say copper, but that's another story, but who's the flame alicorn? That day breaker pie my adopted sister her memory isn't good..... that's because I made her not remember what had happened to her, oh daddy, how long were you there? Enough your grandma isn't gonna be happy, you know? "Blood looked at B," sir? Hmm? Yes, copper? Are you blind? Because I see you're a vampire pony, why yes, I am blind but I can still see with my god vision my two eye ball are cursed glass see "blood popped one of his glass eyes out copper saw shocked of excitement she got out her note pad and and wrote down three names on her research list B eat and get ready for school please yes daddy "B walked downstairs worried about copper" so what's on your little note pad my dear? Hmm? "Blood asked interested." oh uh just research. I'm gonna try and do on some of your kids and your mom and you if that ok with you, sir? One stop with the sir shit I'm blood. You are copper, yes? Yes? "Copper answered the question, and then his mom called for him for breakfast." Coming copper? Yes, si blood. "Copper followed blood downstairs as his kids were already gone for school but not midnight or day they were doing ponyville College work at home." Good morning, mom. Good morning, son,"they hugged, then blood got his blood coffee." Morning, miss copper morning miss pie. So I heard you have my record in your robot pony brain, hmm? Y-yes? Good, but how do you know if I'm that Pinkie pie? All pinkies are different in every way, my dear. W-well, how about I get to know this pinkie pie then? Ok, but not now son grab my list and get my numbers. Copper and I got some research later, hehe. "Pinkie chuckled sinisterly. Copper felt a little scared, which is odd for her to feel scared. " Gotcha mom

"Blood teleported away, so copper day broke the silence and said," So copper, i heard you are doing some research on a couple of us? yes, I am, but I don't know who to start with, tho, not me, "said Pinkie. then midnight said soon, " What you know on me copper I have time before my other classes "copper got out her note pad" everything please? Well, I never knew my real parent, but blood has been there for as long as I can remember he made sure I would have a life and I can never repay him for what has done for me and for my siblings, day dad made sure we would all be taken good care of, right mid like I said he gave me the chance to actually have a family and I'm not ruining my family that I have now "day hugged midnight in joy" eww sis stop!

Awww, so cute siblings' love is so adorable, but blood, i mean my dad made everything possible for us even for me even though I'm adopted i still consider blood my real dad were don't have a mom, yet day remember yet, right grandma, copper you guys don't have a mom? Some of us did, but they ran from us or abandoned us. That's so terrible. "Copper started crying oil feeling days sadness which is odd for her to feel feeling

Mod pie: it's the new magic battery. The upgrade is making copper notice more things and feeling things no robot pony can

Tag: @ask-coppertop

[greyborn2]

Holy frick. Just finished (maybe? Might keep going though not sure what to do next with the character, story wise) my, like, billionth playthrough of Skyrim and oh boy it was a wild ride. Used an alt start mod, started in Riften with the story idea that they had just 'aged out' of Honorhall Orphanage. She wanted to be a mage but, like, no way could her broke ass afford that (let alone with the mods I've got boosting the prices of things waaaaaaaay up so you no longer just amass a dragon hoard) and she ended up joining the Thieves' Guild just to make ends meet and pay for spell learnin' from the Court Wizard. Was mostly avoiding the guild's main quest, her just doing the radiant jobs in Riften (not even traveling beyond the city) but eventually did get around to the guild story. Shit went as it did. Mercer, Karliah, needing to NOPE THE FUCK OUT OF SIGNING HER SOUL AWAY TO A DAEDRIC PRINCE (thank heck for a mod that allowed that. This girl's 17, she just wanted to be a part time thief to cover spell costs ;-;), just... oh boy. End's up deciding to pay the fee to have her face sculpted to look different (new hair colour, new nose shape, new eye colour) and packed up all her shit with the plan of "Yo, Karliah and Brynjolf, I'll help you kill Mercer and get the Eyes but after that you tell the guild I died on the mission. I WANT OUT OF THIS WILD RIDE." At that point she had enough of a gold stockpile to, hypothetically, fuck off to the College and start a new life there and pay for magic tuition. Screw you, Brynjolf, you lead the guild she's a SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD!!! So yea, fuck off to Winterhold and mark Riften as a 'DO NOT GO BACK TO THIS PLACE' because no way does she want someone somehow recognizing her. Changes her name in the most half-assed way imaginable (From Fran to, what she thought was the more 'wizard sounding', Franlyn). Farting about doing lessons (thank you again mods expanding out the actual 'being in a college' part of the questline) and then... nope. Psijics here to ruin your day now you have another Eye to deal with (this girl and artefacts with 'eye' in the name, damn). She scrumbles her way through the entire questline from one place to another, barely getting any sleep, FINALLY ends it all and then the Psijics (and Tolfdir) decide my lil scrumbly blorby running on five hours of sleep over the last week, shaking with the amount of stamina potions she's been squaffing to keep herself standing, barely standing after the fight with Ancano... should be Archmage. So yea. That's where she is now. Went up to the Archmage's quarters and just fucking collapsed. Had her slum it out in the room for, like, a month (using the headcanon that every 'day' is a week because otherwise Skyrim moves at a narratively insane fast pace) just working her way through the mead and food stored up there refusing to see anyone trying to figure out what the fuck she's gonna do now. Wild. God. Damn. Ride.

[twistedinksquidtoon]

Hey. Inky mod here. We need to talk.

To summarize, my apology wasn’t enough for some reason, I didn’t know people had arachnophobia, and now my life is ruined.

Putting below cut because I’m uncomfortable.

So uh, I heard that FS blog mod got kicked off the dev team for some reason. They unfriended me and now I can’t talk to them.

I’m not sure why this would happen, but I’m very concerned and I believe it might be finally the death of me in this fandom.

When I sent that apology to that DW server, I meant it sincerely. I wanted to be forgiven. I just wanted to be there again. And you know what they did? Shot me down without a second thought. I lost my goddamn best friend because of this.

When I called you guys cowards, it was because YOU DIDN’T TELL ME BEFOREHAND YOU HAD ARACHNOPHOBIA. I didn’t know, and my impulses took over. As for the transformation content and Changed art, I love that game! Not for any shitty “oOoOo f3tIsH gAmE gO bRr!!!!” kind of reasons. My comfort isn’t your motherfucking k1nk. Get over it, deal with me liking gooey furry stuff.

I had FUN showing you guys Inky and the RoseThorne crew. It was nice to be in this fandom, to be ALIVE. And now look what’s happened to me. I’m a fucking washed-up wreck that’s in the wrong for what?! This all started because of a fucking spider photo and NOBODY, I repeat NOBODY told me they were afraid of them! For fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to know every thought in your heads?!

Long story short, I hate some people and I’m incredibly fucking sorry. All I want is to be forgiven, or else I’m gonna snap my own neck. God fucking damn it.

I’m stopping it there because if I keep going, it’s obviously going to be just rage spitting and me calling everyone out. Not this time, I’m going to contain myself.

Inky blog will continue to be open for asks, but I will take some things more seriously.

Have a GREAT fucking day.

Oh, and if you’re any of THEM reading this, you can have an AMAZING fucking day, god damn it.

Signed, Stari.

[iamapoopmuffin]

Teen Titans Episodes Explained Badly

Divide And Conquer: Aight, first thing to establish here, you take any one Titan out of the equation and the entire team is fucked, thank you and goodnight.

Sisters: If you ever wanted to get your sibling arrested, here’s a handy dandy guide on how!

Final Exam: “Did you order a crack team of ace assassins?” “No.” “Great, here you go!”

Forces Of Nature: Some old dude convinces two teenagers who have never heard of stranger danger to start some fires

The Sum Of His Parts: Reject humanity return to robot

Nevermore: Journey to the centre of Raven’s brain

Switched: Anatomically accurate puppets give way to your classic body switch storyline

Deep Six: Beast Boy vs a hot guy. The Titans get wet.

Masks: A secret identity within a secret identity

Mad Mod: A cheerful reminder that school sucks and is full of creepy people. Also never trust British people.

Car Trouble: I steal your car I steal your car I steal your car I steal your car I st

Apprentice - Part 1: Slade, a bitter divorced father, hasn’t seen his children in a long time so he steals one of Batman’s children.

Apprentice - Part 2: Robin does not want to be Slade’s son

How Long Is Forever?: Back to the future

Every Dog Has His Day: I heard you like dogs so I traded your dog for a dog. Also if it’s green, it will love annoying Raven.

Terra: The Titans let a homeless girl crash on their couch and she tracks mud everywhere

Only Human: Atlas’ entire life is this one video game and he probably lives in his mother’s basement

Fear Itself: Have your nightmares ever come alive and tried to kill everyone you care about? W̶̢̧̖͚͎̙̗̰̦̹̏͗̽͊̒̊̂͐̏̏͒̌͠ͅỏ̸̑̌��̢̥̻́̏̓̈͐͜͝ų̷̭̫͙̘͕̣̏̑͂̍̈̋̽̍l̸͖̙̭̩̘̩͇̱͎͑̌d̶̡̧̡̛͎̪̳̰͉͖̠͈̗̽̃̎̏͑̈́͊̚͝ ̶͖̞̅̂͌̅̏y̶̖̯̮̩͈̻̹̣͆o̶̙̰̽͆̆̔̿̂͠u̵̡̫̩̹̅̄́̅̈́͆̾̉̀̐̌̂̚ ̶̨̢̛̥̺͍͙͎̥̣̼͇̲̞̳̄́̂̇̉ͅl̵̮̿i̵̢̢̛̹̞͕̲͐̈́͜k̵̡̺̏̊͌̿͊͆́̅̍̂͑̕͘͝ͅe̵̛͇̕ ̶̧̧̨̟̺͍̞̤̱̗̲̦̺̹̌͂̏̀̌͌̚ţ̶̫̞̣̬̣̜̙͛̓̂̋̀̍̀̏͐̇͒ͅh̴̢̧̡̭̭̱̙͙̼̊͌̅̋̎͊̉̓̓̚͜͝e̴̥̩̩͔̰̫͆̇̇̐̂͛̊́̀m̴̡͇̀̊ ̷̦͚̖̯̌͛́̄̔̄t̶̢̤̫̰̲̖͚̗̜͔̫̫̖͚̿̓̑ͅo̴̳̹͎̗͍̜͂̆̅͛͐̈̐̈́͒̽͘͠?̶̨͖̲͈̩̲͎͍̪͇̤̺͑̾̇͂̆̾̈̈́̅̅

Date With Destiny: Sexual harassment ft. moths

Transformation: Puberty. That’s it, that’s the episode.

Titan Rising: Homeless girl joins team and doesn’t track as much mud around the house this time.

Winner Take All: Overgrown furry gremlin thing makes kids fight each other then shoves them inside a necklace

Betrayal: Bitter divorced dad ruins teenagers’ date

Fractured: Being from another dimension appears and accidentally turns the world into a crayon drawing

Aftershock - Part 1: Terra is evil? Terra is unyielding? I’m packing my little rucksack-

Aftershock - Part 2: You thought everyone was dead but no, they’re fine...wait, a volcano is erupting-

Deception: Cyborg goes back to school but it’s evil school

X: When your evil alter ego suddenly becomes a person in its own right.

Betrothed: Never let your sister plan your wedding

Crash: Get sick, eat everything.

Haunted: Robin gets poisoned and hallucinates vividly.

Spellbound: The dangers of getting way too attached to a character in one of your books

Revolution: History lesson on crack

Wavelength: Evil Academy 2 Electric Boogaloo.

The Beast Within: Reject humanity return to Bigfoot.

Can I Keep Him?: Please do not feed your silk worms mysterious alien goo.

Bunny Raven...Or...How To Make A Titanimal Disappear: “Hey kid, you wanna see a magic trick?”

Titans East - Part 1: A new Titans team but Brother Blood wants to make it Evil Academy 3 Steel City Drift

Titans East - Part 2: Hypnotism and violence. I hope you kids like the threat of death!

Episode 257-494: Fat nerd escapes into TV and becomes James Bond

The Quest: Robin gets advice from some talking animals

Birthmark: Slade is never getting invited to another birthday party.

Cyborg The Barbarian: Back To The Future but it’s the film where they end up way in the past. Cyborg falls for a dead girl. This boy is really not lucky in love.

Employee Of The Month: Beast Boy gets a job working for a talking cube.

Troq: The Titans help an intergalactic racist and don’t question it when he states they need to commit mass genocide for the good of the universe.

The Prophecy: Oh yeah also the world is about to end lol

Stranded: “Well thank fuck this planet happens to have an atmosphere we can all survive in.”

Overdrive: “I’ve started a gang. The current members are me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me and me.”

Mother Mae-Eye: Overbearing parent simulator

The End - Part 1: Satan comes to visit his daughter and burn everything.

The End - Part 2: Everything is on fire.

The End - Part 3: Raven tells her dad to fuck off.

Homecoming - Part 1: Meet The Parents, Beast Boy edition

Homecoming - Part 2: What would you give up to chase down a team led by a homosexual brain in a jar and his monkey boyfriend?

Trust: Madame Rouge melts in direct sunlight.

For Real: You ordered the Teen Titans, but we didn’t have it in stock. We’ve substituted and price matched Titans East, now without hypnotism.

Snowblind: Starfire helps Captain Russia™ face his radioactive personal demons

Kole: Jurassic Park but nobody gets eaten

Hide And Seek: Would you rather fight a giant gorilla or babysit children? Quickly now, we don’t have much time.

Lightspeed: No Teen Titans here, just bad guys and even worse flirting.

Revved Up: Basically Wacky Races.

Go!: “This is the story of how we met. Except I tell it better than Robin does, my version has pirates!” “God damn it, Beast Boy-”

Calling All Titans!: “Here’s every single hero we could get the rights to for this. We sure hope no-one’s got any evil plans for all of them...”

Titans Together: Oops, evil won. SIKE!

Things Change: Beast Boy harasses the fuck out of a girl who looks like his ex.

The Lost Episode: I hope you like music, ft. don’t trust British people 2 electric boogaloo.

[honklore]

Can you do headcanons for sapnap with a shy reader please?❤️💌

ALSO I LOVED LANDSLIDE IT CHANGED MY LIFE

shy!reader headcanons | sapnap

(gender neutral, non-au, this is less of a headcannon and more of a small story sorry about that)

listen to: georgia by vance joy

okay firstly to premise, i think sapnap is a pretty shy guy himself. he’s absolutely the guy who refuses to correct a waiter after they read their order back to him wrong

so he would get it. i don’t really think he would try to push you out of your comfort zone

lets say you guys met in a csgo lobby lol. sapnap was practicing before a stream, playing with strangers, and you popped up

and you didn’t speak for the first like. five rounds. you were AMAZING with last minute clutches but you never spoke so people just kind of assumed you didn’t have ur mic on

except one round, sapnap lost focus and nearly ruined the round, forgetting to call out his location for a cover

luckily you came in with the clutch and shot the enemy before they could get to sapnap, saving the round

and so while in the lobby, sapnap turns on his mic and just “[user], thanks for saving my ass out there.”

and your voice just comes through, a little clipped and very shy, “no problem,” before your mic is muted again

sapnap ends up saving ur gamer tag and inviting you whenever he needs someone to play with or fill a lobby

this turns into playing every day, and you guys become rlly good friends thru the screen. you both keep to yourselves for the most part, a strict csgo relationship if you will

and then sapnap is like. i rlly like them. i want to be their bestie.

so he asks if you want to play with him and his friends sometime, maybe in minecraft or jackbox

and you’re a little overwhelmed bc you know they have a decent online presence. but he’s nice to you and you don’t have many online friends so you say yes :)

and he’s like SO excited bc all of his friends are going to meet his new friend

only he’s been talking abt u to karl and dream and george and q for like. ages. since like. THE NIGHT he met u on csgo. (bc he’s a pisces and he gets v attached to anyone who breathes in his direction)

(i’m a pisces i can say it)

when you join the lobby (no one is streaming) he has the boys in a separate call to give him advice just in case he needs it

you don’t really speak unless spoken to, and when the boys get rlly loud they can kind of forget to include you

so sapnap always brings you back into the convo by asking you a question or making a quick joke

george in their chat: simp

you guys play jackbox, and you rlly like quiplash and survive the internet and others where you can just type

(and you’re really good at it like the boys think ur rly funny and clever)

but of course the boys want to play mad verse city, and you’re like,,, rlly nervous and don’t really want to rap,, so sapnap raps for you,, and he’s the loudest to hype you up after each of your verses

and you’d slowly get more comfortable with the boys. it’s easy to flow with them bc they’re so loud and obnoxious that you can mind your own business and still feel like part of their convos.

so anyways it’s months into your friendship, and sapnap has developed the fattest crush on you. if he’s not on call with the boys, he’s on call with you

chat knows about you bc sapnap always has you on his alt streams to talk and hang out with him. surprisingly, chat is very protective over you and cheer you on even if you’re on a different team than sap

i imagine sapnap gives you his minecraft info and lets you go around the dsmp the same way dream lets drista hang out with his info

just... a stream where he leads you around and just talks to you in vc while you share your screen with him,,, and chat is like. sapnap you are so in love.

you spend your time in the smp making a cottage and a house for yourself. you even tame a cat.

(it’s the first pet on the server that sapnap doesn’t try to kill. that’s how chat knows he’s in too deep.)

and the thing is,, he wants to ask u to be his s/o,, but you’re so shy that he has no idea how you feel about him

you’re not flirty and you’re friendly with everyone, so it’s hard to see any signs.

(sapnap is also just kinda dumb, bc he doesn’t realize that you only address him when you talk, you’re only comfortable in calls if he’s there too, you have made him a playlist called “sapnap <3”, you made him a flower garden in minecraft and literally mined netherite for him to return to when he came back on the server)

like sapnap is thinking on such a large scale that all of these little things you do don’t register as anything more than friendship

and he’s in call w the dteam one day and he’s just like “guys :/ idk if they like me :/”

dream calls him a dumbass

george hangs up

when george comes back, you join the call too, and sapnap can only assume george messaged you to join

“tell them, sapnap”

“george you’re such an idiot, y/n don’t listen to him we were just messing around.”

“okay,” you say. “but i’m here to talk if you ever need me.”

sapnap wants to burst because he likes you so much, he’s just so terrified of messing up what you guys have that he would rather stay silent

he doesn’t want to run you off, but he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t like you either

“can i call u?” he asks “without these two nimrods to hear us?”

you agree, and you start talking as soon as you two are in a separate call. “sap? are you okay? you’ve been acting weird lately.”

“i rlly like you,” he just blurts it out, because it’s the easiest way for him. he can’t take it back, but at least you know.

“oh,” you say, voice just as timid as it was that first csgo game ages ago. “i like u too”

cue blushy sapnap

always talks about you on stream. you don’t join streams too much bc they make you nervous, but you’re always talked about lol

sapnap will bring you up literally every day on twitter or smth

when the two of you finally meet in person, you’re both so shy that dream has to start the convos for the first hour or so

but once you get comfortable it’s like two long lost souls

you guys just fit

sapnap speaks up when you’re quiet, and vice versa

you guys get ur own shared mc server and sapnap kills mods while you plant flowers

you use your twitter to show off your builds and sapnap always retweets and hypes you up

he suggests you stream your builds but it’s something you just like to do on your own, so you decline. sometimes you’ll appear on his streams and give his chat a lil tour tho :’)

sapnap is pretty protective over you. he will fight anyone for u <3 that’s just how he is lmao.

you get along with everyone pretty well though, and sapnap fits in with your friends as well

it’s still mostly a long distance relationship, but the two of you are used to it so you make it work

and sapnap will correct a waiter if they get your order wrong. so, character development.

thanks for requesting and for liking landslide !!

[toko-writing-imagines]

THH girls reacting to their s/o giving them a bouquet of flowers

My overall favorite game (minus udg) and with my favorite girls as well

Anything that has Toko or Syo is my favorite

I might do more of these kinds of mini series, but if you have any ideas then do let me know! (also junko is non-despair if that isn't obvious-)

V3 version | SDR2 version

【Sayaka Maizono】

• This girl probably had mutiple people given her flowers and gifts during her career

• I mean, who wouldn't? Sayaka is a pop sensation, known for her music, and is also super cute

• But you suddenly gifting her flowers? She never felt more special in her life

• So in short, she loved them!!

• Often times you can see her just staring at the flowers and just having those dreamy eyes

• But she would also gift you something in return!!

• Whether it be new clothing, tickets to her newest concerts, candy, or something you been wanting for a while - she'll get it for you!

【Kyoko Kirigiri】

• Don't expect much of a reaction from her

• It's not that she doesn't like it when you give her anything, or whatever your love language may be

• This detective just has trouble voicing her feelings properly, even when it comes to you

• But she takes the flowers anyway

• And you get to see that rare smile on her face, something that can go unnoticed unless you are looking close enough

• Afterwards she'll take the flowers and plant them either outside or is a cute little pots, making sure they get enough sunlight and water

• She smiles once more as she looks at the now planted flowers

• She thought of you

【Toko Fukawa】

• Alot of mixed opinion will be going on in her mind

• One would think about how this is probably some way to soften her before you do something worse

• Another would be swooned because well, you, her s/o who "puts up" with her, is giving her flowers

• But she would begrudgingly take the flowers and say some mean comment out of habit, albeit you don't take any personal offence to it

• Later though, she would end up writing about the interaction while the flowers sit infront of her in a clear vase

• She can't help but feel lucky to have someone as caring like you to be dating someone like herself

【Genocide Jack/Syo】

• Kinda the same with Toko's reaction

• But she just laughs

• Not because she finds anything in particular funny, but because you are giving a literal (former) serial killer flowers

• You laugh with her because you expected this reaction from your girlfriend

• She takes the bouquet, but then messes with it - or more so ruins it

• She laughs again, you just smile

• Maybe flowers arent the best option, but that doesn't mean you won't stop trying until you find the best gift for her

【Aoi Asahina】

• The happiest out of all the girls here

• okay maybe she would have preferred donuts as a gift rather than flowers

• But she cherishes any gift you decide to give her!

• She would give you a bunch of hugs and quick peppered kisses because she's just so happy!

• Would probably proudly carry the bouquet of flowers everywhere with her that same day just so everyone can see what an amazing s/o you are

• Will later talk all about the interaction to Sakura, going on and on while she listens to her rambles

• She waters them everyday right after swim practice, so they can stay beautiful forever!

【Celestia Ludenberg】

• A calm and composed face is what you will receive

• Even towards you, Celeste keeps on her calm facade but that smile you love so much creeps up on her face

• Roses, beautiful roses that match her aesthetic

• She thanks you of course, loving every gift you give her (though is that a lie? you cant tell)

• She plants a kiss on your cheek, as that is your payment for the gift

• May try to incorporate the roses in her outfit, but will most likely use one as like a pocket rose

• It fits her perfectly

【Sakura Ogami】

• You got her two things

• A bouquet of flowers and a cute little cherry blossom bonsai tree

• You may or may not have gotten her the bonsai due to her name

• But she loves the gifts either way, I mean who wouldn't?

• Will definitely ask you to braid the flowers in her hair if you can

• It makes her feel more in touch with her feminine side

• Will also do what Hina did, but vice versa. She will calmly tell her swimmer friend about the interaction and you can bet Hina was super happy for her

【Junko Enoshima】

• Another famous girl who probably recieved a multitude of gifts from her fashion career

• But does that stop you from showing Junko with gifts whenever you can? Absolutely not

• This time, a simple bouquet of flowers

• Oh man did Junko just adore it

• She basically smothered you with gifts and kisses in return while proudly holding your gift in her arms

• She goes all out with anything, and in all honestly, what else did you expect from her?

• This is Junko Enoshima after all

【Mukuro Ikusaba】

• She didn't know how to react

• You been dating Mukuro for a while now, and learned that she tends to appreciate the more simpler things in life

• So you just giving her a bouquet of flowers basically out of the blue, she didn't know how to handle these emotions

• It didn't matter how long you two would be dating. You two can be married and she would still not know how to react to gifts and handling her emotions

• But she loved them, oh did she love them

• Every gift you give her, big or small, makes her feel seen and appreciated

• And you continue with it, giving her gifts and doing many other things to let her know that you appreciate her

❀•°•═══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═══•°•❀

I kinda tried something new with my writing, idk if you can tell or not but it's there - albeit subtle

Glad to finally finish this little mini series! If anyone has and ideas for more mini series like this then do let me know!!

Take care everyone

~ Mod Toko 💜

[day-of-the-plantsims]

I have a gamer girl sim in TS4 that I have been enjoying lately, but… Akira Kibo is ruining her life. I've had sim drama in my games before, but I really had to document this one. 🤣

1/2 Ruby met Akira Kibo and became friends quickly bonding over video games. He asked her to become BFFs pretty early on. So she's just living her life, streaming games, and then she gets this awkward yet endearing call from him confessing his interest to date her, and I think "aww, that's cute, but nah. Don't wanna ruin this friendship." He's sad, I'm sad for him, but he'll get over it. Right? But then he starts showing up at her house and standing outside night and day. Creepy.

Another season passes and my thought is he'll have forgotten about it/moved on, but he asks Ruby out again. I have her agree just to give him a chance. I guess I felt bad having her ~break his heart~ that first time. They go on a date and he walks away from her (like off the map). Then immediately calls her on another date, and spends the whole time cancelling her attempts to chat, and she's so tense/sad she can barely function that I just cancel it and have her go home. The next day she invites Akira over to watch a movie, and they autonomously flirt. Great! They're finally going to try this thing. The little romance meter was about 60% full, and friendship was maxed. I think they were lovebirds, or sweethearts, or something to that effect. Another date the following day, and I'm feeling really positive about this. Maybe they could be a cute gamer couple.

WELL. Akira starts calling Ruby asking about other girls, starting the day after that. "Oh, should I date this other girl?" "I had such a great time on my date with so and so, we're in love!" Like, whut? Did you forget about our dates? This happened with three other girls in the span of just a few days. Now, my sim apparently doesn't have any actions that fall under the "self respect" category, so she just tells Akira to follow his heart, and he so starts dating these other girls. And then he wants to gush about it with my sim like he wasn't even attempting to date her. Then he starts blowing up Ruby's phone, seriously it's calls every day from him about other girls and still asking her out meanwhile, and I have her just hang up without answering after a while. The only kind of game Ruby wants to play is BLICBLOCK, thank you. I'm actually surprised they didn't add more phone/dialogue interactions where a sim can ask something like "why don't you ever talk to me anymore?" or "why are you ghosting me?" (if anyone knows of a good interaction expanding mod, please.. let me know.) Over time, I notice someone keeps knocking over her trashcan and getting garbage everywhere but I never catch which sim it is. Also, someone harvests her garden before she can get to it.

[zigtheeortega]

incomparable

pairing | logan x mc

word count | 7.4k

warnings | there’s a lot of angst in this one, and it’s definitely an emotional hurt/comfort fic! if you don’t like the idea of logan trying to move on, then this one isn’t for you!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @dionneserrano, @blainehayes, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | a while ago, my sweet friend and fellow mod @/pixeljazzy suggested a fic plot that’s angsty and absolutely demonic, aka logan tries to move on, so i decided to write it! i’d been working on this before the mods decided to create the time capsule challenge, so i’m very content that this fits into the theme well !!! and to clarify, this is an au where my mc raquel writes down her experience with the mpc and ends up publishing it and unintentionally becomes a best selling author! also yes rodaw brought me out of my choices writing break and i’m not mad at it at all

•─────────────────•

She wasn’t Raquel.

That much was obvious – she was taller. Her shoulders were broader. Her hair was short, bluntly cut at her collarbones, and dark brown.

She was tattoo free. The skin of her arm was bare – a clean slate. Untouched.

She seemed more innocent, too. Not in the way that Raquel was when they first met.

This woman was grown with a full time job and a comfy apartment in the heart of the city, but… there was something missing.

She probably had no clue that there was a seedy underbelly to her home. Didn’t have the misfortune of crossing paths with someone like him when he was at his worst.

She was privileged enough to go about her life while a whole microcosm of crime happened right under her nose. And she didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know.

Logan wasn’t exactly jazzed to shatter another woman’s innocence the way he did with Raquel.

This girl seemed… safe. Level headed, secure, and millions of miles away from the life he’d abandoned.

It kind of happened by accident. Meeting her, that is.

It wasn’t a carefully crafted “accident” like with Raquel. She actually just… caught his eye.

He’d gotten an honest job as a mechanic on the outskirts of L.A., working mostly with the struggling working class that had long been banished to the dingiest corners, despite being the most important cogs in the city’s machine.

The autoshop was family owned, and had been for generations – the owner, Nicandro, had accepted Logan as his own, and Logan had practically become a part of the Alvarez family.

He hadn’t anticipated finding his own home in the same city that’d chewed him up and spat him out time and time again.

A couple months into working there, he was finally settling into his routine. Nine-to-five job on weekdays, community college classes on weekends, and the occasional Saturday mass when he was invited by the Alvarezes.

He was functioning. He had a routine. And then this girl came in and disrupted it all.

The Honda Civic girl.

When the average looking car pulled up outside, he didn’t give it a second glance.

He went back to work, arms deep in the engine, grimy and stained from repairing Miss Anita’s ancient artifact she insisted on saving even though it was less than a thousand miles away from crumbling cartoon-style till only the wheels were left.

(But she was family to the Alvarezes, so Nicandro insisted on repairing the car for free nearly every week when she needed something new tweaked.)

He heard her voice from across the room and still didn’t look up from his hands.

“Hi, this is embarrassing, but my engine light thingy came on and I have no clue what it means,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m on my way out of town for a couple of days, so I thought I’d stop and get it checked out before you closed for the night.”

“Aye, Lo, can you help her out real quick? We’ve gotta truck coming in with parts soon and I gotta keep watch,” Nicandro called across the garage, shooting Logan a toothy grin as soon as he looked up.

“Sure,” Logan smiled politely, scrubbing his forearm over his brow, the sweat managing to hold a couple strands of his hair captive against his skin.

He was assuming it’d be a typical oil change, but the second she came into view, the ghost of the last time he left L.A. gripped his heart and squeezed until adrenaline shot through every vein in his body.

Her t-shirt, tucked neatly into her denim shorts, read “Langston”.

It wasn’t the sweatshirt, but it was the same design, same color.

He knew staying in L.A. was a gamble, but he was willing to risk it. Staying away from Raquel was priority for her safety, but… he couldn’t bury the inkling of hope that pushed its way to the surface when he walked into a coffee shop or a bookstore – places he knew she’d love.

Once he saw the shirt and her big brown eyes, he was done for.

She wasn’t Raquel, but something about her lived in this stranger.

Before he could stop himself, he was comparing her to his first love – a disaster waiting to happen.

Their first date was anything but – she insisted on bringing him a vanilla milkshake from his favorite burger place to his work.

“How’d you know I was working?” He asked earnestly, mirroring her soft smile.

“I didn’t. Nicandro told me vanilla milkshakes were your favorite and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise so…” she shrugged, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve, uh, brought milkshakes up here every day this weekend.”

He laughed – a real genuine surprised laugh – and took a sip from the styrofoam cup. “You didn’t let them go to waste, did you?”

“Nah, Nicandro’s been really happy with me.”

“Yum,” he hummed. “I’m happy with you, too.”

She grinned in delight, taking a sip from hers. “I’m glad my hard work paid off.”

She stayed there for his whole lunch break, and they chatted, casual conversation with no substance, and he actually enjoyed himself.

The last time he remembered having casual conversations about nothing with a girl his age, he was curled underneath the sheets with Raquel, tracing the outlines of her sleeve of tattoos. He could’ve listened to her talk for hours.

This girl… she was pretty tolerable – she listened to him (hung on every word, even) and cared about what he had to say, even though it was a laid back, low stakes conversation.

“My name’s Renée, you know. I realized I haven’t told you,” she smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. She was facing him, and they were seated on the same side of the old wooden table out back behind the garage.

“Renée,” he repeated, shaking the styrofoam cup to gather the last bit of milkshake at the bottom before tipping it back to lap it up. “I’m Logan.”

“Logan,” she nodded. “It suits you.”

“S’not my real name,” he shrugged.

He didn’t know why he was telling her that. If he told her too much, it’d end the same.

She tipped her own cup back, tapping the bottom to get little stray ice chunks out. “Fine by me. I still think it suits you.”

She was way too trustworthy of a man she didn’t know, but… wasn’t that what attracted him to Raquel in the first place?

Without a shred of judgement in her eyes, Raquel took everything Logan said as the truth, despite how many times he’d fucked up. Betrayed her.

Renée didn’t look at him like he was a criminal and… well… he wasn’t one anymore. He was still in the criminal mindset, though, since he’d been ostracized for so damn long.

The next couple weeks were uncomfortable – not because Renée made him uncomfortable in the slightest. If anything, she was doing the opposite, and that was the problem.

He’d had to reopen himself to caring about another woman, and to say it was a difficult task was an understatement. The gates were stubborn, rusted shut, so much so that he had to force them apart, ignoring the grating screech of metal and the inevitable pain that came with being vulnerable again.

They went on a few dinner dates. She brought him lunch at work. She invited him to her apartment. They went to a food truck festival together.

Renée disrupted his routine, and it was a breath of fresh air.

He’d gotten so comfortable with his quaint life and his work family that he hadn’t pushed himself to do much more than that.

But the first time she held his hand, he froze.

She casually grabbed his hand to lead him through a crowd and his body reacted like he’d been electrocuted. It wasn’t wrong, but it felt wrong.

“Are you good?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, wiping his clammy palm against his jeans before letting her grab his hand again.

It wasn’t wrong, but it was wrong.

He should’ve ended it that moment, but he didn’t. He’d convinced himself that if he could push through the initial weirdness of it all, he’d be happy. Eventually.

So he went through the motions with her, trying his hardest to push his comparisons of her to Raquel to the back of his mind, but every so often it’d bubble to the surface.

It’d manifest in the most random ways.

She liked Coke icees, not cherry.

Oh we watched that rom-com together, and she hated it because it was too corny.

She likes that TV show as background noise because she thinks it’s dumb, and I do, too.

It was unhealthy to think of Raquel that much – to compare Renée to her that much – but he couldn’t help it.

The last time he was happy, safe, loved, was with Raquel. He hadn’t chased that feeling for a long time (because he wasn’t sure he could find it again), but with Renée he was getting closer to what he used to have.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted that warmth – that comfort – again.

She wasn’t Raquel, but she’d have to do.

A month into their casual dating, Renée kissed him. Well, she tried.

She’d insisted on driving him to a boujee rooftop bar near her place and was thoroughly buzzed off a couple of cosmopolitans less than an hour into them being there.

The party was in full swing around them, the corny ass cover band on their fourth “tribute” to Billy Joel.

He was out of his element to say the least. 

Just as he was about to lean over to tell her he needed to use the bathroom, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her mouth against his, planting sloppy, sugary, open mouthed kisses on his parted lips, frozen in shock.

“Logan,” she breathed, squeezing him tighter, not even registering how tense he was.

“Renée… hey, hey,” he said, gently but firmly pulling her away from him. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Her big brown eyes welled up with tears and his chest twinged with guilt, the distant memory of the first time he’d betrayed Raquel floating around the back of his brain.

“I’m sorry I – I don’t know what came over me –” she turned away from him, dabbing her eyes with the crook of her finger.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize,” he reassured her, rubbing his palm in small circles on her back. “We’re good.”

“I wanted our first kiss to be special and I royally screwed that up,” she sighed, swivelling back till she was facing him again.

“Can’t do worse than me.”

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“I was a girl’s first kiss… five minutes after we’d outrun the cops.”

Her laugh was a surprised one, her bright smile replacing her disappointed expression almost immediately.

“That’s surprising. I never pegged you as a law breaking type,” she blinked, the alcohol clearly making her a bit more ballsy than she normally was.

It was his turn to laugh – he doubled over, nearly knocking over her half empty glass in the process.

“I used to be quite a troublemaker.”

Despite her not-so-subtle hints over the next few weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her.

She probably thought he was the prudiest of the prudes, the local catholic church’s golden boy,  the working man’s poster child of abstinence till marriage.

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yet.

He was wearing himself down more and more each day – he was on the track to kiss her in… a couple months to a year. Probably.

Two months in, she invited him to a swanky event her job was hosting.

She was one of many accountants working in the financial department for a large publishing company. She had a really cool gig, and she knew it. She never bragged, but she was proud of her accomplishments. 

So why was she dating a mechanic who was making a third of her income? He had no idea.

Either way, he tried to enjoy himself. The car that picked them up was luxurious, and that and the food and booze reflected just how much money their company had made that year.

The venue was huge and packed to the brim with hundreds of people, the standing tables a couple feet apart all throughout the ballroom.

“Damn, they weren’t playing around with this, huh?” He mused, taking a sip from his mug, filled to the brim with locally brewed beer.

“Yep, they’re serious about giving a warm welcome to new authors,” Renée said over the rim of her drink, gesturing vaguely to the room around them.

“Yeah, so is that what they’re doing?”

“Mhmm. Every year we hold a big party to celebrate our deals for that year. It’s really just to pat ourselves on the back and give our new authors a sense of comfort here, you know?”

“Can I get a booklist or something? I might wanna check out some of these books afterwards. I feel guilty as hell eating duck, drinking their expensive ass alcohol, and rolling back home without, ya know, doing anything,” he shrugged, the fabric of his hand me down suit straining with effort at the motion.

“One of the authors insisted on not being included in any of the party promos so… she kinda ruined it for everybody. But she’s our number one best seller for this year, so…” she rolled her eyes, tipping back the last of her cosmo.

“And don’t worry about it. We budgeted for this and we’re good,” Renée nodded, giving Logan’s hand a squeeze over the table.

“So what’s the itinerary for the night?” Logan asked, rolling his mug around by its base, the beer swirling around the edges, just barely kissing the rim, but not quite overflowing.

It was stupid to relate to a fucking mug of beer, but he did.

Anytime he pushed himself to his limit with Renée, he retreated, never breaking past that threshold, that barrier he set in place for himself long before he’d ever met her.

“The President is gonna give some speech – he’s that guy right there –” she said, scooting around the table till her arm was pressed against the sleeve of his jacket, “Then the Vice President – that woman – is gonna introduce the guests of honor, and they’ll give introductions. Then a brief presentation from my boss about how much money we raked in this year, then… yep. We can leave.”

“Sounds painless enough.”

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thanks for coming with me, Lo. I really appreciate it.”

Before he could register what was happening, she’d tipped his chin towards her, pressing a tender, gracious kiss on his lips.

She pulled back, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

He mirrored her smile, but inside he was screaming.

He felt nothing. The kiss elicited absolutely nothing from him.

She kissed him and it felt like he was kissing a friend. Completely platonic.

He’d sunk months into getting comfortable with her just for it to blow up in his face. The second he’d let his guard down so things could progress naturally, it backfired.

He’d taken Raquel for granted. Being with her was so effortless that he didn’t have to think about it, and he let that slip away without trying to get her back.

He thought he was doing the right thing by her, but it was hurting him more than he’d ever anticipated.

It wasn’t that he considered her another notch in the bedpost. It was the opposite – the bedpost didn’t exist anymore.

There was only her. No one else. No matter how many times he tried to remedy his broken heart, it’d just bring him right back to her: the only woman that ever had the privilege of making herself a home there.

“I, uh, need to go to the restroom. Excuse me,” he said, jabbing his thumbs toward the double doors, heading outside before she had a chance to respond.

He pushed his way out of the room, his heart in time with the slap of his shoes against the flooring.

As soon as he was out of the doors, he kept walking, striding past the laggards mingling in the hallway, past the bathrooms, past the security, till he felt the dirty L.A. air coat his lungs.

God, if he could only catch his breath maybe he could go back in there and salvage the night. Maybe even make himself look less like a skittish idiot.

Despite the fact that his brain was wired to unintentionally treat her like a friend, he didn’t want to hurt this girl. 

He didn’t smoke often – just a taste of nicotine when he was drunk or the occasional cigarette when he was stressed.

There was a crumpled pack in his glove box that’d been there for months.

Why didn’t he just drive? He was fucking stranded. He couldn’t run. Couldn’t put distance between him and this situation that he’d willingly put himself in.

None of this was Renée’s fault. There wasn’t a single aspect of the situation that was her fault.

She was a girl who wanted to date a boy because of reciprocated interest.

He felt like the biggest loser in the world. Here she was, a beautiful girl with a lust for life and ambitions that dwarfed anything he’d ever imagined for himself.

And all she wanted to do was love him.

And he wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t let her.

His back slid against the brick wall until he was squatting, arms braced against his knees while he tried to gulp down fresh air as fast as the wind whipped at him.

He’d managed to find the one corner of the building that was completely unoccupied. For once, he was thankful for his gut instinct to lurk in the shadows.

He’d barely gotten a minute of solitude before the door closest to him flew open, a blur of tulle streaking across his peripheral.

The person’s breaths were labored, panicked, as they ran the opposite direction until they were at the edge of the pavement.

They bent down, just like he had, and clasped both hands over their mouth, letting out a small muffled scream.

When she was finished with that, she tilted her chin upwards, her skin illuminated by the light from the parking lot that spilled onto their side of the building.

If he thought breathing was difficult before, it got a whole lot worse when she noticed he was there.

She jumped, yelping like a wounded animal before stumbling back, catching herself with her hands. “Oh my god, I didn’t know anyone was here – I’m sorry –”

Pushing herself back up to stand, she brushed her palms off and shook the tulle skirt clean. “I’m just a little stressed. Sorry again for the outburst.”

That can’t be her. There’s no way, he thought, his mouth drying out when he got a clear view of her face.

“Raquel?” He asked, timidly, voice cracking on the first syllable.

She froze, searching the shadows, her hands white knuckling her skirt.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He couldn’t tell how long they’d been quiet when he pushed himself to his full height and took a step towards her.

“No, no, no, there’s no way,” she whispered, stumbling backwards, catching herself on the brick wall.

“It’s – uh, it’s me –” he said, laying his palm flat against his chest. “It’s Logan.”

His voice trembled, the effort of speaking (despite nearly being rendered speechless) was more than he could handle – it was as if he had to manually pick up his words like stones and drop them, and they were heavy, and he was weak.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She didn’t respond.

“I… uh, what are you doing here?” He asked finally, forcing the question past his lips.

If he didn’t say something he’d be drinking her in all night. It’d been a couple years, but she looked exactly the same.

Yeah, her hair was mid-length, the ombre traded for a black tone, and she’d gotten a few more tattoos that he could see, but she was the same old Raquel.

Same old Raquel, but professionally styled. He wasn’t self conscious of his hand-me-down suit until he noticed how polished she looked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she breathed, a strained tone followed by a struggled breath.

His heart dropped to his stomach. He’d completely forgotten about Renée.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened and closed it again, like a fucking fish out of water. There was no way to beat around it.

“I’m a plus one.”

Her perfectly gelled brows furrowed, and his gut clenched at the motion.

He was scared as hell, but damn did she look exactly like she did when she was hunched over a textbook, scrawling notes as quick as her brain summarized the words on the page.

“You didn’t… deliberately come here to see me?” She asked, searching his face for something (the truth, probably).

He ran a hand through his unruly hair, an inch or so shorter than she’d last seen it.

Why’d he have to run into her after he’d gotten a trim? He’d imagined this moment going so many different ways, and every scenario he’d pictured them looking like they did the moment they parted – if he had it his way, every detail would be exactly the same as the day he disappeared into the night, from his head down to his shoes.

“I, uh… No, I didn’t,” he stammered, taking another step her way, and that time she didn’t move back.

Shaking her head, she watched him, expression incredulous. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just because I didn’t come here for you doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you,” he said, reaching out towards her.

He thought she’d flinch away, but she stayed planted in place, her eyelids fluttering shut when he stroked the pad of his thumb against her jaw, revelling in how soft her skin was. Just like he remembered.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head just enough till she could kiss his palm, leaving a streak of lipgloss on his calloused skin. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is, baby,” he reassured her, before testing her even further by tugging her into a hug. “This isn’t a dream, but it sure feels like one.”

She ran her hands across his back, like she was refamiliarizing herself with his frame, before squeezing him tight, her arms shaking with effort. “You smell exactly the same.”

He laughed, burying his nose into her crown, pressing a kiss there. “You do, too. Like lavender’n’heaven.”

Raquel was in front of him, just as warm and pretty as she was the last time he’d seen her. She even felt the same in his arms, molding to his shape like no time had passed.

Adrenaline surged in his veins, and he took advantage of his momentary courage by tipping her chin upward to get a good look at her.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

Nothing else mattered to him anymore. His mechanic job, his car, his friendships, his home in L.A. –

He’d made a home in those dark brown eyes, and he was willing to drop everything and follow her to the ends of the earth if that meant he’d be back in the one home he’d ever known.

She blinked away a few tears, her bottom lip trembling, dimpling her chin.

He cupped her face between his palms, cradling her face as gently as he would with something breakable, soaking in the moment for as long as he could.

He could’ve held her like that and re-committed every inch of her face to memory, but she broke first, closing the gap by pressing her lips against his and Christ did she taste sweet.

Their mouths, arms, bodies, slotted together perfectly, not an inch of space between them.

Just as he parted his lips for her, she stiffened, retreating from him immediately.

“You taste like cherry. I hate cherry.”

Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “You hate cherry.”

He went rigid, the details from a few minutes before flooding back to him. Renée was wearing cherry gloss.

“Oh my god… you’re here with someone?” She asked, but she said it with such conviction, because she knew it was true, and she was begging for it not to be.

His mouth popped open and shut again. “I’m sorry –” “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve moved on and that’s okay. I’m happy for you.” Her voice was trembling with each word – the stones were heavy, and she was struggling, and he could tell.

“No, Raquel, it’s not like that. I promise –”

“Please don’t make me any promises, Lo. I don’t know if my heart can take it,” she said, palms up in surrender.

And she said his nickname. It sounded wrong coming from anyone but her.

“I’m serious, baby, I didn’t think I’d see you again, especially at a schmooze fest like this.”

She blinked, once, twice, processing what he’d said. “So… not only did you insult me by showing up with another woman, but you’re insulting this event that I’ve worked so hard to attend, and you’re insulting me.”

“Raquel… I never meant it that way, I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, groaning in frustration. “I stayed in L.A. in case I ever saw you again, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon, and I dreamed up lots of scenarios but none of them went like this. I fucked it up majorly and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t fucking know.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, her arms folded across her chest while she mulled over his words. “I never tried moving on.”

It hit him like a gut punch, grabbing his organs and twisting till pain shot throughout his body. “You didn’t?” Was all he could manage.

“No, I couldn’t. There’s no way I could when I’m still in love with you.”

She screwed her eyes shut, a sob leaving her before she could contain it.

“Raquel, please believe me –” Logan pleaded, stepping towards her. “If I woulda known you were gonna be here, trust me, I’d be dressed better and you’d be my date and I’d be showing you off to the world –”

Her watch buzzed, startling the both of them. “I… have to go. We can talk after, if you want.”

“Yes, please. That’s all I want,” he laced his fingers with hers, gently tugging her hand towards his lips to press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll find you after. I promise.”

Giving him one last once over, drinking him in, like she was second guessing if he was real, she stepped back through the doors.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself before heading in – explaining his outburst to Renée hadn’t crossed his mind till he walked back inside.

He made his way back to the table, running over how he was going to apologize, but nothing stuck. He couldn’t think of anything but Raquel.

Renée was sipping on her second drink of the night, and his beer looked like it’d been dipped into as well.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately. “I’m sorry about kissing you like that I just – I just thought you were comfortable enough. I screwed up again, Lo, and I’m so sorry.”

“Renée…” He couldn’t get over how unnatural “Lo” sounded coming from her. “The way I’ve been acting has nothing to do with you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” she laughed once, rolling her eyes. They widened as soon as it dawned on her. “Wait… are you?”

“Can we talk outside? I really want you to hear me out –” “Logan, if you’re gonna dump me, at least respect me enough to not do it in the parking lot,” she sighed, chugging the rest of her drink.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, sliding his half empty mug of beer her way. “I do respect you, though. A lot. You’re an amazing person.”

Sighing, she tipped back the beer, gulping until he could see her eyes through the transparent bottom of the glass. “I’ve definitely heard this spiel before.”

“I’m gonna tell you this story, and you’re probably not gonna believe it, but it’s true, and it was my life – it is my life,” he started, leaning against the table so she could hear his low tone.

“Years ago, I met the woman of my dreams, and she was innocent and way too fucking good for me. I was breaking the law daily by doing jobs with crews of criminals like me, living off the grid, making money in ways I’m not too proud of.

“She was a part of one of my last jobs before I left L.A. to lay low and I, uh, I fell in love with her. I’m still in love with her. I don’t know what my life would look like if I wasn’t in love with her, you know?”

Her face screwed up in disgust, and she all but slammed the mug down, whispering furiously. “Are you mocking me? Did you seriously just regurgitate the plot of Ride or Die to me? That’s the story you’re going with? One that isn’t even your own?”

“Huh, what? What are you –”

The speakers crackled and a mic squeaked as who Logan assumed to be President tapped the surface of it, cutting off his response.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a wonderful night so far. As most of you may know, my name is Arnie Harris, and I’m the President of Harris Publishing. When my grandfather founded Harris Publishing back in 1901, he only did so because he wanted to be able to publish a few of his wife’s poems as a gift. Publishers refused to register it under her name, so he made his own company so my grandma could achieve her dream of being a published author, and throughout the years, we’ve been committed to giving voices to women and minorities alike.

“This year’s been one of our best yet, and I’m so thankful to our new authors for seeing something in us and our mission statement. A big thank you to everyone here tonight – Editing, Marketing, Finance, all the staff and employees, hell, the caterers here tonight, valets, everyone. Tonight wouldn’t be possible without you.”

He droned on for a bit longer before the Vice President took the stage, and she began introducing the newest authors that they’d signed that year.

They’d copped quite a few best sellers, which was impressive. Each author took the stage briefly to thank Harris Publishing and give a brief summary of their goals for the next few years.

Renée was ignoring him at that point, refusing to even look his way. He’d be more upset about that if he wasn’t scanning every inch of the room for Raquel, trying desperately to spot the rose colored tulle and midnight hair in the crowd.

“– and the last author of the night, the number one young adult New York Times’ Best Seller for five months and counting, Raquel Olvera with Ride or Die!”

His head snapped towards the stage, his eyes wide. “What the fuck –”

“Renée, she… who…”

“She’s our top seller. The one I said didn’t wanna be in the promos?” She answered flatly, still staring straight ahead.

“Renée, that’s – that’s her, that’s the girl I’m in love with –”

“Oh, please –” She stopped when she saw how genuinely caught off guard he was. “Oh my god, you’re not lying.”

“No, that’s her – I didn’t think – I ran into her outside and she said we’d talk later, but I – I didn’t think she was coming back inside for this –”

“You’re who she wrote about,” Renée whispered, her eyes as wide as Logan’s were, words beginning to slur just a bit. “Holy shit, I just thought the names were a coincidence, but no, you’re him.”

“What… huh?”

“Oh, Logan…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ride or Die is about you, your old crew, and how she fell in love with you.”

His heart sank. “About me?”

She nodded. “She changed most of the names but kept some, including yours. The ending… you really had to leave L.A. to flee the cops?”

He nodded. “The feds were on our tails.”

“My god… she’s so in love with you. You have to go to her,” Renée shook her head, her hair swaying around her. “No hard feelings at all. You can’t let her go – I’m serious.” 

She’d taken the stage, and had begun thanking people while Logan and Renée whispered furiously at each other. By the time they looked up, she was beginning her speech.

“I never really set out to become a writer. Even though I’m a published author, I don’t really feel like one. Every time I step back to assess the response I’ve gotten to ‘Ride or Die’, I’m rendered speechless without fail. I just wanted an outlet to get my story out, and surprisingly – thankfully – the lovely staff of Harris Publishing decided to take a chance on me. I never thought this level of success was possible, and I’m so grateful for everyone here.”

She held for applause, smiling as though she was grateful for each clap.

“But beneath the positivity and praise I’ve received, I’m still healing. I’m still hurting. Most people know that ‘Ride or Die’ is somewhat of a true story. And yes, I know there’ve been discussions on whether this is a fake autobiography and that I wrote this for attention. Honestly, for the first year after they left, I wished that it was fake, because I was in a lot of pain. Emotionally, I was in shambles.

“I’ve loved telling my story as a form of therapy, but I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone. The love of my life vanished into the night and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. No closure, no healing, no moving on.

“Stagnancy’s been the norm for me for so long that I forgot what life was like when I was smiling every day. I’m still getting used to happiness being an everyday feeling for me.”

Raquel shook her head, taking a deep breath and dabbing at the corner of her eyes. The audience took this cue to clap again, encouraging her to continue.

Logan watched the monitor on the wall, which zoomed into her face, catching her dazzling brown eyes. He was in awe. She was tough as nails with a heart of gold and he still didn’t deserve her.

“I thought that a life without love was bleak, and that I was doomed to suffer because I didn’t know if I’d ever see Logan again.”

She took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“I’ve realized that I’m surrounded by more love than I know what to do with. By those who love my story, who resonate with my story, and who want or already have a Logan of their own. I get to experience love every day through that affirmation, and I took it for granted till… well, tonight, honestly.

“The end of the story wasn’t really the end of the story for me. I thought that ‘Ride or Die’ was the first and final book, and I’ve been terrified for a while that by the time the hype for this book died down, so would my hope, and I’d have to move on… but like I’ve said, the closure I’ve craved is in everyone that carries my story with them. You’re all healing me by making me feel seen and heard and loved.

“This might be a lot for a speech at a fancy event at the publishing company that signed me, but through all of you who’ve made this possible, I feel like the version of me from years ago when I hopped in a sports car with a stranger who later turned out to be the love of my life.

“The adrenaline, the lust for life, feeling alive – I owe it all to you. Thank you.”

The cheers were raucous by the time she stepped off stage.

Logan’s throat was tight – she still loved him no matter how much it hurt.

Jesus fucking Christ, he would never deserve her.

Renée was sniffling next to him, hand over her mouth. “Logan, you seriously need to go to her. You can’t let her get away again.”

He pulled her in for a quick hug, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. You really do deserve so much better than me.”

She grinned and patted his cheek lightly. “You’ve never been more right.”

He turned, darting towards the doors, shoving past anyone and everyone to get outside.

When he made it out of the doors, he ran smack into Raquel.

Thankfully, the only people outside of the room were the security guards, who’s attention was focused on the front door.

Raquel pulled him down the hallway and stopped at the last door on the left, a sign with her name on it taped to the outside of the door.

She fumbled with the keycard, her hands trembling.

“Shit –” she cursed, the card tumbling from her hands and onto the tile floor.

He snatched it off the ground and scanned it in one swoop. Within seconds, she’d shoved the door open and slammed it behind them.

His heart was racing. The last time she’d been this hasty was their final kiss, and he couldn’t fathom going through that again.

She stood in front of him, his back to the door, her gaze trained on his chest.

From his height he can see that her face is contorted, but she buries her face in her hands before he can get a good look.

“She looks just like me.” Her voice was a mere whisper, like she couldn’t manage anything more than that.

His heart sank to his feet. “Raquel –” “You say you didn’t know I was going to be here, but then why’d you date someone that works at the same company my book’s being published at?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting you,” he started, gently resting a palm on her shoulder. “Especially knowing how hard it’s been for you, I –”

He broke his sentence off, cursing himself. “Shit, I didn’t know you were having just as hard a time as me. I figured you’d go to college and meet someone better than me. I don’t know.”

“You can’t just say you expected me to move on because you clearly haven’t. What, is her name Rachel or something?” She pulled back, putting a step of space between them. 

He shook his head. “Renée.”

“It even starts with the same letter,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “You thought I’d move on so you started dating the first person that reminded you of me?”

“I – I’m –” He stuttered, dumbfounded that she’d gotten it in one try, as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I want you to understand why I’m upset, Lo. You came back to L.A. because you thought there was a possibility that you’d see me again, but you ‘figured I’d move on’. You’re seeing a girl that looks like she could be related to me, yet you’re avoiding discussing that. “I’m mad because while I’ve been trying to heal, you’ve been making yourself suffer, and that’s not fair to Renée. You had no idea if you were gonna see me again so you tried to get the next best thing. You have to see why that’s fucked up, Lo.”

“Even if I was dating Renée because she reminded me of you, none of that matters now.”

“You can’t just dump Renée because you took one look at the girl you dated for a month years ago and decided you wanted her instead –”

“Stop. Don’t try to downplay your role in my life, Raquel. You’re not ‘just the girl I dated’, alright? I loved you then and I love you now.” 

“You can’t love me and string her along at the same time, Logan,” she furiously whispered, her voice nearing hysterics.

He blinked, shaking his head. “Did… you think I was coming here to show you that I’d moved on? And wanted to rub it in your face?”

She chewed the inside of her lip, her dark brown eyes downcast. “Maybe.”

“Renée ended things first. Just now, actually. The minute she realized that I’m the Logan from your book, she told me I needed to go to you,” he reassured her, reaching out to tip her chin up with a crooked finger, forcing her to meet his eye.

“Raquel, I had no fucking clue you’d written about us and the old crew. All these years, I’ve always known how much I love you but… goddamn, I didn’t know you loved me the way I loved you.”

Her eyes glistened, her surprised laugh coming out as a soft sob.

“So… you really do love me? It wasn’t just circumstance?” She asked, leaning into his palm when he slid his hand up to cup her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter how we felt back then, baby. None of that matters now because we fell for each other while we were apart,” he smiled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips.

“God, I love you,” she whispered against his lips, deepening the kiss.

“Say it again,” he murmured. “I need to hear it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated, louder, more confident this time. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as long as you say it back.”

“I love you,” he said, no hesitation, tangling his fingers through her hair and pulling her in again.

The only time they came up for air was to whisper sweet affirmations against each other’s skin before delving back into silently relearning what they could about each other.

Logan had never been the best with words, and he was at peace with that. He knew that when it mattered, he’d show it. And in the dim lighting of Raquel’s green room, he showed her over and over just how much she meant to him.

Kiss by kiss, they adhered themselves to each other, undoubtedly deciding they’d never let each other go again.

She wasn’t Raquel. That much was obvious. She’d grown into much more than the timid girl he’d met on her 18th birthday, and even more than the headstrong driver he’d left behind. 

And he loved her this way and that way – any way he could get her. His love for every version of her was boundless, incomparable to anything he’d ever felt before.

[hiraya-sa-dilim]

Ang Pagiging ay Pag-alam ay Pag-Ibig Chapter 2. Jeneora Rock Diner is not named after its town…

In which dinner plans are ruined. [2719 words] Read here or on ao3

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Jeneora Rock Diner is not named after its town. Instead, the town is named after the saloon the current owner’s great-grand-something-or-other opened at a time trees were still scarce but not gone. Says so on the yellowing laminated print-out tacked right next to the screen display of wanted posters by the door. When Wolfwood pointed it out on his first visit, asked for permission to touch it after showing Rosa his washed, dry hands, she laughed, talked about the trouble her grandmother went through to make it decades back, and gave him its dimensions to 3D print and a glass of tapuy for listening. His copy doesn’t quite capture the flopsiness of real paper within plastic, but it’s one of his few possessions he thinks he would loathe to part with.

Wolfwood stops running his fingers over the edge of the original now, slouches to the bar.

“Evening, Nick. The usual?”

“Make it a double, please. Shit day at work.”

“Poor you, getting out with your life.”

“At what cost, though. Drives me to tears everyday, good madam.”

Rosa gives him a chuckle, disappears into the back. She doesn’t know what he does, only that some days were easy so he was down for small talk, and some days were long and boring so he ordered more booze to go into her son’s savings account. Outside the agency, people who knew the name Nicholas D. Wolfwood learned about his work very shortly after or never did. Rosa is a good person. She stays in the latter category.

(Wolfwood tenses, feels for the white hum of the recording device in his ear. Nothing. He had turned it off leaving the office, and his shades are snug in their charging case along with his phone in his… yes, tightly sealed briefcase. Nothing to enable whatever surveillance feature on him he didn’t already know about.)

“Here you go. While it’s warm, now.”

“To your health, Rosa. And your blueberry’s.”

The alcohol warms Wolfwood as the rain picks up outside. He’s not sure if it clips the din of Jeneaora Rock or adds to it, not sure if he should be grateful for it. Places like these are too loud for his taste. It’s a far cry from even the quaintest bars of July, but not exactly some small-town diner, either. Young people came in when their mothers and siblings wouldn’t past afternoon, their fathers ignored them from around the pool table after a day of drinking, and Wolfwood ate at the bar where everybody else drank as snot-nosed high school kids forced to sit in the booths glared holes into his jacket for taking up a prime spot where everyone could be seeing them drinking instead. The little pride he has left would never let him be caught dead in a place like this, he thinks. But it is one of the few haunts he has left his colleagues are yet to know about, and Rosa’s girls cook all right.

“I just don’t understand why we have to do it here of all places,” Wolfwood notices a voice next to his stool by the wall. It’s young, whiny, and new to the bar. “How are you supposed to think in these… conditions?”

“If you’re out to capture life, newbie,” a smoker’s drone rasps from her other side, “you go where it is every step of the way. You brainstorm your next scoop in a cafe, you end up with the latest on some sorority girl’s room mate’s twentyseventh shag’s brand new spanking underwear mods. Haven’t you had enough of college gossip columns already?”

“My name is Meryl Stryfe. Please refer to me by my name. So, so what are we supposed to get out here? Organic… nah, I can’t even say it. Hay, they should have sent me out to the trenches for real news. Someday, I’ll be on the news desk, then I swear I’ll-”

Wolfwood shifts focus at once. He didn’t realize he’s in a smog of stale cologne surrounded by a gaggle of high school kids. He recognizes a handful, but most are a new batch from the previous nights he’s been here. Oh, well, he thinks. If they posed any kind of danger to him, he would have noticed before they’ve gotten this close. Still, he keeps a hand on his right lap, close to his gun holster.

“Hiiii,” a girl titters too close for comfort. “We heard a certain stray’s crashed and stranded on the Rock a couple weeks now. Care to enlighten us?”

“Haven’t your friends already?” Wolfwood attempts a smile. “What did they tell you?”

“That you told them, ‘Sorry, kids. I know you don’t believe this, but you deserve better than me.’ What’s the matter? Can’t afford a round?”

“Not into real girls?” someone else pipes up. Louder giggles, and lots of batting eyelashes.

Wolfwood smirks at that comeback. Pretty little things they are, he has to admit, all cheap implant wirings, and cheap makeup, and cheap fashions. Small-town kids looking for big-time trouble. Moments like these, he imagines a chorus of voices calling him their big brother, imagines the voices grown to sound like the children standing in front of him in the moment. It has never once failed to sober him up.

“Maybe. Except I think you’re all too young to remember the Luka variant. You guys would be into, aa… that Gura character these days. No?”

Laughter again, this time pitched with hesitation. Wolfwood finishes the last of his tapuy. “What I meant when I said that is that I’m no good for anyone. I don’t look it, obviously,” (more tittering again, sweet, flirty, nothings) “but I promise, I’m utterly useless in relationships. You’re better off with someone who loves you. Really. Trust this old man.”

Less chatter now. Some mortified looks. “Wait. Um. Are you for real?”

“We’re just fucking around,” a boy supplies. “You can’t be serious.”

“And you aren’t?” Wolfwood asks. He was raised in part by some old girls at the orphanage as he’d learned to call them as a boy. He knows how their hearts work. Never adopted, only married to the first suitor they got who they forced themselves to believe was the love of their lives. Never been children, only women too young, and soon, mothers who have never been shown how to be one. He likes to think, for better or worse, that all old girls’ hearts still work the same wherever they’re from.

“I’ll have Rosa send you over some drinks,” Wolfwood says as gently as he could. “Whatever it is you want, whatever it is you’ve planned, my answer is no. Do not ask me again.”

Wolfwood turns back to the bar and, just to have something to do, lights a cigarette. He listens to them leave, some grumbling, most silent. One stays behind, waits quietly until he turns to take in their highlighted hair and dangling wing clip. He feels his mouth go dry.

They whisper wetly in his ear. “The one in the oversized sweater.”

“Do it yourself,” Wolfwood hisses back. “I’m off already. Bug-eyed brat.”

“Sorry, partner. Some of us go on dates Friday night, you know.” They skip off, cackling.

Wolfwood snarls. He’s fucking tired. He was supposed to just drink, eat, go home, shit, have a long soak, and sleep. And he really didn’t want to start staying away from this place, too…

He turns. Oversized sweater is a bespectacled kid back at his booth with his gloomy-looking friends. A light seems to come over his face. He says something Wolfwood cannot hear over the rain, and just like that, everybody laughs and unslumps their shoulders. They talk, and laugh, talk, and laugh some more—they’ve completely forgotten about Wolfwood, unless maybe they were making fun of him. The thought makes the tiniest hollow in his chest and he almost smirks.

Wolfwood glances at the bar. Had his seat mates noticed or cared? The girl next to him, Mary Stripes or something similar, in a cap that makes her look small is scribbling furiously into a notepad, and her bedraggled older partner is sighing long and hard into his whiskey glass. Everyone else would have been too far off to have heard or seen his exchange with the apparent teenager. And Rosa… Rosa stops in the middle of chatting with a customer to scold her son waltzing up behind the bar with a cage full of worms. Wolfwood has never been earlier than dinner and only ever heard of him. Tonis, wasn’t it? He saw children so rarely these days that the boy looks like a memory.

He’s too focused, too deep in a daze to hear what they’re saying. But the child begins signing lightning fast with a flesh hand and a prosthetic, Nanay, I caught these for you and you can cook ‘em and sell ‘em and you don’t have to worry about my arm any more and I can stop getting sick and we can get your medicine and the baby’s too and-

Wolfwood screws his eyes shut, double taps the spot behind his right ear. “Zazie,” he grits out a murmur.

Halfway out of the room, the child—at least, the cyborg looks youthful and is quite short in stature—with the winged clip turns back to look at him. “Yeah?” they speak into his ear piece.

Wolfwood twists so he locks eyes with the Undertaker. “Don’t come back to this place. You won’t find me here again.”

Child watches man unblinking. They turn their gaze slowly, pointedly at the mother and son behind him. They blink back at him. And grin.

“Order up! Tonight’s special, piping hot. Enjoy!”

Wolfwood takes a split-second of surprise to learn that tonight’s special is mock stingray in artificial coconut cream on rice and chickendog delivered by one of the cooks. But Zazie is already gone when he looks back. He long presses the mic and recorder behind his ear, grinds on his cigarette.

“Wartime child prostitution,” the voice next to Wolfwood confidently declares. “That’s it! I’ve got it, senpai! That’s what we’re writing up! How it’s become an epidemic in this sick nation, its socioeconomic and cultural implications, and-”

“Child prosti, ha? What? Newbie, did you seriously think dressing like that automatically makes you a sex worker? Man, you rich kids have no idea…”

“Hoy, Nick.”

Wolfwood turns in time to watch Rosa pour another shot into his cup. Tonis is nowhere to be seen.

“On the house. I really appreciate you keeping off those kids. I can’t stop them from coming here, but it’s better I keep an eye on them while they’re still working things out rather than they wander off elsewhere, you know. And with you around, it’s good they can practice having a crush on someone and not get hurt for it, too. Oh, the staff fires at anyone who messes with them, by the way, so don’t you even try it.”

Wolfwood blinks at his full glass. “Not planning on it. I like my skin on and everybody else off me, thanks. Still, kids these days, ha? Think anything shiny’s good for them. Funny, I used to be one myself.”

Rosa laughs, rich and heavy. “Haaay. I was kidding, Nick. About you messing with them, anyway. You’re a good person so you won’t. I can tell. Kids will be kids, that’s their nature, been since the beginning of time. All we adults can do is protect them from themselves when we can. And while I could imagine you as a teenager, I don’t think I want to, for some reason.“

Wolfwood lets out a snicker he doesn’t feel.

"Now, Master Wolfwood. You look like you got something to ask me.”

“Right. Aa. Ehem.” He allows himself three seconds to think… and comes up blank so he rubs his cigarette on the ash tray. “Aa, that your boy back there? The one you were telling me about?”

“Yes, blueberry’s strawberry blonde big brother,” Rosa pats her swollen belly. She chuckles. “Been telling him to stop bringing worms into the diner. Urgent, he tells me. Says he caught them fresh so I should sell them for a pretty price. Made a list of what the money’s for. Responsible young man. Too responsible, I would say.”

“Well, I see where he gets it from. Blueberry’s gonna be one lucky little sibling.”

“Right? Except I wish at least one of them knows how to keep away from here at night. Not like I’ll never stop reminding them gently.”

Rosa stops scrubbing a glass to watch Wolfwood. He shovels the food into his mouth to look away, and does not touch his cup.

“Say,” she ventures after a pause. “did I ever tell you why we call them blueberry?”

“Ha? Aa, not yet. Is it cause they’re titchy?”

“That’s part of it. When I explained to my Tonis I was pregnant, I told him, ‘Love, you’re getting yourself a baby sibling. They’re in Mama’s tummy right now, and,’ and because we were at breakfast, you know, I thought I’d pluck out a blueberry, imitation one, you know that one cheap brand? From my oatmeal. And I said, ‘this is how small your sibling is right now, in Mama’s tummy. But soon when they’re big enough, they’ll come out and we’ll see them together.’ And that night as I was tucking my boy into bed, I saw he had three blueberries laid out neat next to his pillow. I asked him what he’s soiling his own sheets for and he said ‘Mama, we only have two beds. I’m practising for my sister, my other sister, and my brother.’ He says he wants three of them, aysus!”

“That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve heard all week,” says Wolfwood, “I mean it.” It’s true. He grins and actually feels like it. He swallows down the last of his discomfort with a spoonful of rice and feels light and loose. He remembers why he does what he does. For innocents like Tonis. For Blueberry. “Thanks, Rosa. I… feel better.”

She gives him a smile and pats his hand. He doesn’t remeber the last time he let anyone do that. “You can talk to me, Nick. I’m right here if you need me.” And she tends to the other customers to give him some space. He thinks her children are very lucky to have a person like Rosa.

Right. Wolfwood drinks his tapuy, downs the rest of his meal, follows the thing hiding in an oversized sweater to the toilets. He lies with a grin. Says some smiling, shining things about how it had caught his eye, and how he’d hate to be interrupted by its friends, and how they should go somewhere a bit more private…

Wait five minutes after I leave the diner. Come alone. I’ll wait for you.

Wolfwood pays his tab, asks Rosa to buy Tonis an ice cream with the tip. He passes the Replicant’s table and winks at it, watches it bloom petunia pink on its synthetic cheeks. It makes him want to be sick. But he’ll nip the feeling in the bud soon enough.

Punisher’s in his locker but Wolfwood’s got his everyman’s pistol at his side and half his life of combat experience. Zazie should still be somewhere in the area and could be summoned quickly if worse comes to worst. But in any case, combat Replicants usually aren’t built to look young, so he highly doubts he’ll need backup tonight.

Wolfwood lights his cigarette now to keep his zippo from jamming in the rain. He runs his fingers along the edge of the laminated poster, looks away to blow out the smoke. Out of habit, his eyes are drawn to the much brighter screen next to it, flashing video footage of loose Replicants and other manners of crooks. Right now, there are some underwhelming explosions abroad on the screen, and Wolfwood starts to push at the door when it flashes gracelessly into a familiar image.

A portrait of a man in mid-laughter, face red as his jacket. Older than he looks. Dark hair under a crown of golden spikes, eyes closed and crinkled under two identical spheres of yellow sandstorms.

Wolfwood’s breath catches.

WANTED VASH THE STAMPEDE (REPLICANT) ALIVE $$6,000,000.00

_____

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Ang Pagiging ay Pag-alam ay Pag-Ibig Chapter 1. In the early 22nd century...

Early in the 22nd Century, AI corporations advanced Human and Robot evolution into the TRIGUN technological era, heralding free market bio-cybernetic modifications, and Androids—beings now virtually identical to Humans—known as Replicants.

The TRIGUN Replicants were superior in strength and agility, and at least equal in intelligence, to the genetic engineers who created them.

Replicants mass-produced by the SEEDS Project were used abroad in warfare, in the hazardous subjugation and colonization of other Lands.

After a series of bloody mutinies by a SEEDS Project platoon during several campaigns abroad, all Replicants regardless of manufacturer were declared illegal on Noman’s Land—under penalty of death.

Special police squads—Undertaker Units—had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing Replicant.

This was not called execution.

It was called retirement.

Wolfwood is an Undertaker. Vash, once proven to be a Replicant, is his next target. Blade Runner AU. Multichap. Rating for violence and explicit content.

[1703 words] Read here or on ao3.

_____

The Replicant’s eyes are shielded by a pair of glasses, two matching circular voids over otherwise unconcerning features. Wolfwood’s subconscious automatically supplies prescription, tinted, and armor in that order, and he files it away for theories to test throughout the interview.

“Please have a seat. I appreciate you taking the time today, aa,” Wolfwood pretends to glance at the file display on the table’s screen to see what the thing across him would do, “‘Vash Saverem.’ I hope I’m saying that right?”

“Yup!” (Nothing. Wolfwood took his eyes off it and it did nothing.) “And it’s no problem. Good to do a practice interview before the real thing. This is part of that new legislation, right?”

“Due to recent events, yes. And best of luck on your applications.” Wolfwood leans back on his seat, presses a couple of buttons on the PKD machine. They blink colour under the harsh white light over their heads, but are too weak to affect his visuals on the Robot before him in any way. Boredly, he runs over his shopping list in his head. Cigs. Nachos. Batteries. Bullets. “If I may direct your attention to my equipment, I have turned on audio-visual recording. You are aware of this?”

“Ay! Aa, yes.”

“Then for the sake of this recording, my name is Nicholas D. Wolfwood and I’ll be facilitating Mr. Vash Saverem... 32. Uh, cy-”

“Last July.”

“Sorry?”

“Turned 32 last July. They say I look younger than my age, hehe.”

“A. Aa, ehem, 32, cyborg, single, citizen of Noman’s Land, his mandatory Voight-Kampff Examination today, April 10, 2119, for the purpose of employment. I will be asking you 20 to 100 reaction time-sensitive questions meant to illicit emotional response. Number of questions depend on your answers, so examination may take as briefly as five minutes to over an hour. Length of time does not necessarily mean negative or positive results. We are not looking for any set of answers in particular, but try not to think too hard and answer as simply and honestly as you can. We are also required to track,” Wolfwood pats the PKD as part of his spiel, “optical activity and changes in your vital signs during the test as part of evaluation. This process is unobtrusive and won’t require any conscious effort on your part to display results. Evaluation will be completed and revealed to the participant within five minutes of test completion. If the personal information I’ve read from your file is correct, and if you understand the procedures for the test and consent to taking it,” Wolfwood takes a long, tired drag from his cigarette, and does a final check on the monitoring machine (no detected weapons). “please state your National Identifying Number.”

“Yes. 60-012-536-474, thank you. Do I, aa, sign anywhere?”

“Your recorded verbal consent is enough. If you could please remove your glasses so we can begin.”

“Nicholas, ha... that’s a good name. In an old pagan religion, he was the protector deity of children-”

Wolfwood pointedly adjusts Punisher’s position behind him, an upright cross in wrappings looming over his seat at the table. If he could reposition the lights so that the gun would overshadow every Human, Replicant and idiot who ever had to sit across him to shut them up, he would. They should recognize a grave site when they see one. “Your glasses, please, Mr. Saverem. This is not a visual test, you will not be needing them.”

“Of... course.”

Wolfwood turns back, pleased the smile on the Robot’s face has gone down a few notches. “Let us begin. You are walking in a desert. You look down to see-” (The monitor must be fooling him... No. The morning sky from his distant childhood before the sprawl of hologramic billboards engulfed even his little valley. Blinking at him. No screen, nothing to protect him, nothing to divide them both .) “ehem, aa, shit. Aa, to see a tortoise on its back. What do you do?”

“Do I have food?”

“What?”

“Do I have food with me, and water? In the desert? Of course, I’d turn her over the right side up first, but-”

“Thank you,” Wolfwood snaps. He keeps his eyes on the dancing numbers on his device. “It's your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet.”

The Replicant—Saverem—scowls in the screen. “I suppose the right answer would be to reject it and report them to the police,” he says slowly.

“‘The right answer?’ We’re not looking for the right answer, Mr. Saverem. Just your answer.”

“Then... then if it’s all they have, and they give it to me for something as pointless as my birthday, I’d take it gratefully and repay them in kind. Otherwise, I’ll refuse and have a talk with them about it.”

“Talk?”

“About getting a different job other than tanning. Or being a thief. Ay, actually, it’s likelier she would be a grave-robber if-”

“A different job. Such as?”

“Something sustainable for a start. Hopefully, legal and kind, too. Like teaching.” Vash smiles expectantly at something Wolfwood doesn’t get. It’s almost sincere if it doesn’t look so practised...

Wolfwood tuts. He’s not supposed to ask follow-up questions, but fortunately, the Replicant doesn’t know that. He flips a page in the questionnaire.

“Let's try avoiding conditional answers, Mr. Saverem. Now. You've got a little boy. He shows you his butterfly collection, plus the killing jar.”

“I’ll talk him out of it. Get advice if that doesn’t work.”

“Let’s keep our answers brief, please, with no regards to future situations. Single sentences if that helps you.” Wolfwood had been so sure it’s a Replicant before it opened its mouth to talk. Whatever. They have a hundred odd questions to go. The faster he proves his hunch, though, the sooner he gets his next pay check. “You're watching television. Suddenly, you realize there's a wasp crawling on your arm.”

“I’ll wave it off, get it outside saf- get it outside safely.”

“You're reading a magazine. You come across a full-page nude photo of a girl. You show it to your spouse. They like it so much, they hang it on your bedroom wall.”

“A. That’s. Aa...”

The Replicant is red in the monitor, almost as much as his jacket. Wolfwood taps his cigarette over the ash tray, idly fiddles with the loose strap of his weapon on his lap. “Mr. Saverem. Remember we are monitoring your reaction time.”

Saverem stifles the last of his giggles. “Get her stilettos in my size, I guess,” he shrugs. Eyes like a clean, clean sky.

Wolfwood returns quickly to the PKD. He’d been keeping his eyes away long enough anyway, he reasons, clearing his throat. “Next question,” he grinds on his cigarette.

...

Wolfwood hates this part of the job.

He heard that in the old days when it was easier to tell just from appearance, Undertakers called suspects in or paid home visits and had it over with in five minutes 90 percent of the time. Now he’s in an office, only three miserable blokes in and dozens more to go before lunch god damn it, doing his nth review of the vitals fluctuations this Replicant... Human... has displayed in the past hour. Finding nothing again, he tightens his grip on the Punisher’s strap under the table, winds a leg back to kick his usually flawless intuition in the shins...

“One last question. You're watching a stage play. A banquet is in progress. The guests are enjoying an appetizer of raw oysters. The entrée consists of boiled dog.”

“I’ll leave.”

Wolfwood kicks his intuition’s shins. Both of them.

...fuck.

He’d wasted a whole hour waiting for the question that reveals the crack in Saverem’s facade, the gaping hole on his Humanity’s puzzle. But the Human’s stats are the typical cyborg’s for each emotional response, and his empathy and logic above average. Enough so even Wolfwood would be forced to call him a sensible person, maybe even a good person if you held a gun to his head. But not too much that it rang any alarms.

“That concludes our examination,” Wolfwood mumbles, cracks his neck. His throat hurts from talking so long. He only ever had to ask up to 30 questions for even the most complex Replicant, and otherwise the necessary minimum of 20 for Humans. He couldn’t tell why he hadn’t been able to let this one go as the latter sooner. “You’ve passed with flying colors, Mr. Saverem. Congratulations.”

“Really? That’s new. Hehe.”

“Your papers will be updated of your status. Expect the change to be recorded in an hour. When asked for proof of your Humanity,” (Wolfwood was right. They were prescription glasses, and tinted. Saverem had stopped squinting since putting them back on, a desert’s haze, a sandstorm.) “a. Aa, for all intents and purposes, simply present your National ID .”

Wolfwood taps and drags the man’s file to the appropriate folder, reaches behind him to check on the Punisher for the next loser... still imposing, still heavy-looking. It’s always too early to take a break when you need it. “Please tell the next person to come in. Have a good day, Mr. Saverem.”

“You too, Nicholas. Aa, Mr. Wolfwood. Thanks for everything today.”

Wolfwood picks up Saverem’s untouched cup, chucks the contents in the sink to avoid the handshake he is offered. He busies himself at the water dispenser until he’s sure Saverem is at the door.

“So... I am not a Replicant?”

A strange question. Wolfwood actually looks. “It appears so, Mr. Saverem. You are Human Cyborg according to your records.” He watches the tension on Saverem’s lips and scoffs at the back of his throat. “A. Any questions before you go? Forgive me for not asking sooner.”

“You believe... A. None now, it’s okay. I, I hope I haven’t wasted your time today. And I hope you have something good for lunch.”

“A, sure. You too. I... guess.”

Saverem chuckles. “Thank you. Really.”

It’s dark by the doorway, away from the unfeeling fluorescents over the interrogation table. But the light is in Wolfwood’s eyes, and he couldn’t tell if the sandstorm has yielded to a night sky.

The closing door is silent in the windowless, soundproof room.

_____

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[mi6-cafe]

THE FINAL DRABBLES ARE IN!

COME READ THEM AND DECIDE WHOSE IS THE BEST, BETTER THAN ALL THE REST!

But first, what was the prompt again?

Our writers had to use the phrase “be careful what you fish for” in their 300-word drabbles verbatim. 

See the drabbles below the line and VOTE!

(Image description: James Bond off on a fishing expedition)

But how, mods, how do we vote? you ask.

Step 1: Read the drabbles, making notes along the way.

Step 2: Pick three favourites and vote for them in the VOTING FORM while adding feedback for others if you so choose!

Step 3: Profit! (Because it’s all anonymous and even the writers you didn’t vote for end up getting your lovely feedback and it makes them so happy!)

You have until Sunday at 8:59 9.m. PST/11:59 p.m. EST/3:59 a.m. UTC to cast your vote.

Now, come READ&VOTE! (You can also read on wordpress for nicer formatting)

#1

Title: Compliments Author: sunaddicted Warnings: explicit flirting Summary: Q wasn't expecting to hear such a compliment

Seeing Silva bent down over his computer still sent a thrill down Q's spine; despite the fact that the man had become a more or less permanent fixture in Q-Branch, it didn't mean that the adrenaline kick he got out of facing the former rogue agent had gotten any weaker.  

"That's some of my best work."

"Is it."

Q swallowed as he went to stand by the other man, peering down at the lines of code that Silva was studying with the kind of keen eye that made Q squirm, feeling naked even when Silva was looking at his work rather than directly at him.

Though, what was his work if not an extension of his being?

"Are you fishing for compliments, Quartermaster?"

Saying his title in such a caressing and satiny voice should have been made illegal. "Do I need to?" Q tried to ignore the hint of neediness in his voice, even as the flush he could feel blooming up his neck surely betrayed him. He couldn't help it: in his life, he had only met a man who was his equal - better, he had only met a man who could code circles around him, pushing him to do better; to think faster; to outgrow himself. It was exciting.

Raoul slowly turned around, a smirk already painted on his lips. "You have a great arse I would like to bend over this sturdy desk of yours."

"Wh- what?!"

The blonde bent down, lips ghosting against the shell of Q's ear in a caress that was barely there. "Be careful what you fish for, Quartermaster," Silva reached down and closed his hand on the other's hip in a steadying manner, fingers digging into the jutting bone there "You never know what kind of compliment will get thrown your way."

#2

Title: A Fine Kettle Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: LIke shooting fish in a barrel, really.

"This isn't what I had in mind when I said I needed an exit," Bond groused as his feet squelched in his ruined shoes. He'd never get the stink of fish out of this suit. He'd be lucky to scrub it off his skin.

"Well, you know what they say, 007. Be careful what you fish for," Q said, snorting at his own joke as Bond groaned.

"Don't even start, Q," Bond growled. Well. Tried to growl. If it came out as an amused whine Q was polite enough not to call attention to it.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Q said primly. "I found you an exit and left your adversaries floundering. You didn't even pull a mussel."

"I've endured torture more pleasant than—"

"Stop your carping; you’re giving me a haddock."

Bond inhaled slowly. Exhaled.

"What will it take to make you stop?"

"You'll have to shell out more than a few clams."

"Q," Bond begged. Yes. Begged. And yet, he knew that if he were standing in front of a mirror right now his reflection would be grinning. Q's jokes were terrible, and his puns were worse, but hearing him so lost in his amusement was a glorious thing.

"Bring all of your gear back for a start. No losing or breaking anything just for the halibut."

"I'll do my best," Bond promised.

"And dinner."

"I beg your pardon?" Bond asked, shocked. He'd been asking the Quartermaster to dinner for weeks.

"You need time to mullet over. That's fine. Just let minnow."

"Yes, Q. Obviously, yes."

"Excellent. I'm thinking sushi."

Bond couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. He could hear Q's smug grin.

"Just squidding," Q said, then hurried to add, "About the sushi. Not about dinner. And dessert. And afters."

"Afters?"

"Cuttles."

#3

Title: Retrieval Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: Q knew it had never been about her

Q came upon Dr Madeleine Swann serenely fishing from the riverbank. “Got one,” she announced, before handing the rod to him and walking away. Bemused, Q tugged, and the fish leapt from the murky river into his hand, scales flowing like water to engulf his entire arm. Face to face, it gave him a toothy grin.

“Be careful what you fish for,” it snickered as the trees around him exploded with gobbets of blue flame. Q dove into the river to escape and was dragged deeper, drowning, webbed hands holding him tight.

He flailed awake to a bed stained green with murky water, strands of river weed draped about. The windows were wide open, moonlight making the wet marks on the floor glisten.

“James?” he whispered. There was no answer. Not since James had taken the damn car and driven off. But there had been enough clues.

----

He took the river road, heading north. Every bridge was washed-out, every access to his destination blocked. He finally came upon an old-style ferry, its raft drawn along a heavy cable strung across the river.

The old raftman eyed him, then shrugged. Halfway across, the raft slowed as if hung up on something. The ferryman cursed and stamped his boot on the boards. As the raft drifted free again, he gave Q a wry look. “Hope you know what you’re about, lad.”

----

The waterhorse waited for him at the loch edge, burning eyes watching him warily as he approached.

“I never believed you left for her,” he said, tangling his hands in the wet mane. “And all the warnings of all the fair folk in the world couldn't keep me away.” He swung astride and held on. “You can either drown me or come home with me, James. It’s up to you, now.”

#4

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: Alec is just trying to have a nice vacation. James has other plans.

Alec is fishing. He’s taken some much-needed vacation time after a knife to the leg on his last mission, and he’s chosen to go to Jamaica, in part because of how James’ face falls when he learns Alec is going without him. James loves Jamaica. Alec, for his part, loves having anything that James can’t have. The sky is blue. The ocean is a beautiful shade of blue-green. Alec lets his line dangle down into the warm water, and leans back in his boat with a sigh of contentment. And then the peace of the summer day is shattered as the water erupts, and a black-clad figure in scuba gear surges up out of the sea, gasping, and clambers into Alec’s boat, almost upsetting it. Alec’s hand flies to his gun, but before he can draw it, the diver pulls off his mask and reveals James’ familiar face. James is bruised and bleeding, and he gasps out, “Near miss. Good thing you were here.” “What the hell are you doing here?!” Alec demands. “I’m on vacation, James!” “Underwater base,” James explains, pointing down into the depths of the ocean. “Spying on our submarines. Blew it up and escaped.” “How do you do it, James?” Alec says, acidly. “How is it that no matter where you go - no matter where I go - there always seems to be some madman with an increasingly improbable scheme gunning for you? Can’t I have one vacation to myself?” It’s not James’ company he minds. It’s that this was supposed to be something he could take away from James. A chance to one-up the always charming James Bond. “Well, Alec,” James said, leaning in with his charming smile. “You know what they say. Be careful what you fish for.” “I hate you,” Alec said, with feeling.

#5

Title: Dare to Wish Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: A very nice welcome-home.  

"Are you going to put away that blasted machine?" Bond asked, not even looking away from his skilled cooking.  

"Hm?" Q hummed distractedly, not ceasing his typing.  

"Your laptop, darling," Bond complained, making 'darling' sound more like a demand than an endearment.   "Hm." The typing never faltered.  

Bond reduced the heat on one of the other pans that he was juggling on the stove. "I was gone for over a month," he grumbled. "I even dared to hope that you were looking forward to seeing me again."  

Q smiled, and the typing slowed. "One minute, and I'll be all yours, and yet you'll still be giving your attention to our dinner."  

Bond couldn't help but grin. "What's so terribly important anyway?"  

"Oh, just some matter of national security that I'd like off the table before we eat."  

Bond laughed. "Bare feet, unbuttoned shirt, and saving the world. A marvel, you are."  

"One step up from working in my pyjamas," Q quipped.  

Bond sighed. "I'm never going to live that down, am I? What about the incident where you basically plugged Silva into our network?"  

Q pulled a face. "That was... my first week as Q, and I desperately wanted to prove myself, and I may have-"  

"Q," Bond interrupted. "I won't let you live it down, but I'm not holding it against you."  

Q smiled. "Thanks. I do, on very rare occasions, get insecure."  

"There's no need. Everyone knows how brilliant you are. And there's no need to be fishing for compliments."  

"Not tonight. I'm just... fishing for affection."  

His typing instantly stopped when a small box of unmistakable shape was put in front of him.  

Bond caught his eyes and smiled. "Be careful what you fish for."  

Q's breath stuck in his throat, and his eyes lit up. "Never."

#6

Title: A Fishy Companion Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Bond makes friends with a merman

“Bond,” said the creature, his tone quite serious.

Bond merely grunted as he continued to mend his nets. He would not even look at the creature as he swam around him in the shallow water, his movements graceful. A bloody merman, for god’s sake. He’d found him tangled in his nets after a fishing expedition some way from the island and the merman, having been rescued, refused to leave Bond’s side ever since.

Now he queried: “Why is the fisherman so stingy?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not,” said Bond brusquely.

The merman replied, “Because his work made him sell-fish.”

Bond closed his eyes briefly. He’d been a double-O agent— a bloody good one— once upon a time. So long ago, it seemed. Retirement on this remote Caribbean island, in a wooden house with its own small pier, had been something he’d dreamed of, until retirement became more like exile and solitude gave way to loneliness.

Until this.

Bond found himself smiling despite himself as the merman persisted, “Why did the fisherman start doing drugs?”

“I don’t know. Why did he?”

“Pier pressure.”

The merman was beautiful, with dark hair and large green eyes that gazed into his rather owlishly. For reasons of his own, he’d named him Q.

Bond looked away. “I think I need a massage,” he said, wincing as he flexed his biceps.

“Have you heard about the Sauna that serves food?” Q piped up. “Their specialty is steamed mussels.”

“Why you—” Bond laughed before he could stop himself. “I ought to have left you in the nets. That might have made you less talkative.”

The merman swam up to him and settled his head boldly on his lap.

“Be careful what you fish for,” said Q, smiling.

#7

Title: Go Fish Author: soufflegirl91 Warnings: adult humour Summary: Q Branch tech must be recovered no matter where the double-ohs lose it.

“Another bloody spoon,” Bond complained, releasing it from the magnet and tossing it on the pile building up at his feet. “How do people even lose spoons in a lake?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the same way you lose proprietary weaponry?”

“Q, for the last time, I didn’t-”

“Can we get any closer to the middle?” Q cut him off, tapping a few times on his tablet screen. “Maybe if we start at the deepest point and move outwards?”  

Bond sighed, dropping the line back into the boat with a clatter. He pulled the engine cord, and with a roar, they were moving.

“THIS SHOULD DO,” Q yelled over the din.

Bond brought them to a stop, but Q didn’t wait for the engine to die down before continuing:

“I’VE ACTIVATED THE HOMING BEACON. THE LAKE’S DEEPER THAN I’D LIKE, BUT I SHOULD GET A SIGNAL ONCE WE’RE-” the engine died down with a final splutter, leaving Q yelling, “DIRECTLY OVER IT - oh.”

“You don’t get out on the water much, do you?” Bond quirked a grin at his flustered Quartermaster, flinging out the line on the starboard side.

“I wouldn’t have to get out on the water at all, if you didn’t go throwing away rocket launchers like they were crisp packets. Bond, what are you doing? I haven’t got a signal, yet.”

“Signal or not, I’ve caught something.”

Bond pulled on the Q-branch reinforced line, trying to reel it in. Whatever the line had caught, it was heavy. Finally, his catch cleared the water line.

He stared.

“Is that a tentacle dil-?”

“Well, you know what they say,” Q cut in.

He giggled. Giggled. Bond had a terrible feeling he knew what was coming next.

“No. Don’t you dare say it.”

“Be careful what you fish for!”

#8

Title: Do I Really Want To Know? Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: none Summary: Mallory contemplates a recent mission and the behavior of agent and Quartermaster.

Mallory hadn't gotten to his present position without understanding the value of differing approaches to acquiring information. There were circumstances when a simple question was all that was required. There were others when a figurative bludgeon was necessary. That was more often the case when he had someone dead to rights and just wanted an admission. But when something was more delicate, a search for something he suspected but hadn't been able to prove, he needed the skills of a wily fisherman tricking a trout out from under a rock to rise to the bait.

It was unacceptable that his Quartermaster and 007 had gone off coms for eighteen hours. True, the mission was completed, but Bond's bad habits seemed to have rubbed off on Q. Interviewing both had been useless. 'Yes', 'no' and 'equipment failure' were the sum of the responses. Utterly respectful but complete obstruction from both.

They were hiding something and he was worried. Certainly, disloyalty was possible but he had thought better of both of them. There was a chime from his computer and he glanced at the incoming message from accounting. “Can we have some clarification on these charges, please? Uncertain whether these are mission related.”

Mallory scanned the receipts. A moderately expensive hotel suite, room service, and a concierge fee for a trip to a chemist. All charged to one of Bond's aliases. On impulse he called the hotel. Five minutes later he ended the call and stared at the phone. Well, better than treachery certainly but still, Bond and Q? The concierge had found the couple charming and was sure they were a couple. Be careful what you fish for. Now what was he supposed to do? Better that they hadn't admitted anything. He didn't have to act if he didn't officially know.

#9

Title: Shark Bait Author: Venstar / 1amvengeance Warnings: violence? People dedding Summary:  what would you do for those you love?

Bond swam to the ladder access of the dock. A creak of the boards and he froze in place. He swung himself up, his movement was swift and deadly. The guard dropped as suddenly as he had appeared. Bond rolled him into the water. Through the mist, he could just barely make out the tip of a fin. He smiled. It was cold, calculating, and lacking in teeth.

“Almost there.” Bond smiled as a soft breath was let out over comms. “Were you worried?”

“About you or my mortgage and two cats? Because if you live, then maybe M won’t find out about this.”

This time Bond’s smile was wide and bright. “I’m glad we agree then.” 

Bond cut a slit through his wetsuit until he could see his skin underneath. Slightly tan with a smattering of darker freckles. Was that a new mole? Maybe he should have it checked out. Too late. Blood welled up from where the mole had been. He grimaced.

“Bond? What are you doing?”

“Chumming the water.” He heard Q’s sharp intake of breath at the sound of him re-entering the water.

“Bond. This is the worst idea on the list of bad ideas.”

“I know what I’m doing, Q. Moving in, now.”

Silence from the other end as Q listened to him work. He slid through the water, coming up just under the opening of the warehouse. He pulled himself out, his eyes on his targets. He spared one glance for his lover, hoping that Felix could keep the two men distracted enough for him to...yes...to do that. The two men were tossed cut and bleeding into the dark water behind him. Their shouts of surprise turned into screams of pain and terror.

"Be careful what you fish for." Bond murmured, smiling at Felix.

#10

Title: Witnessed Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: James observes Q's methods. It pays off. Q is flexible. He can play an agent like a fiddle. Any time, any place. He knows exactly how to approach his agents — something James is rather impressed by. He'll let them stew for half an hour when necessary; he'll cosy up to them, all charm and innocence; or play up the socially inept IT intern. Sometimes, he gets mean. James particularly likes that part of Q. Whichever it is, though, Q's got them all wrapped around his long capable fingers. James can't look away. He hears from 002 about the 'banger of a DnD game' she apparently raked in the loot for. He also learns about the Deck of Many Things. It's surprisingly accurate for whatever happens next.

009 loses a chess match and gets equipped with a tractor instead of the Jeep he'd requested, although it goes 300 mph and has multiple cannons attached.

005 fails a coin toss and gains a squirt gun full of holy water for her mission at the Vatican. With a quirk of a smile, Q suggests Russian Roulette to Alec. He wins, but just barely.

Q equips his agents with the bare necessities, but unlike his predecessor, they all have to earn the goods. Q's gambling and James is determined to get his own. Q, ever the gentleman, asks what he's willing to play.

"Let's Go Fishin'," James tells him and just for a second Q looks startled. James' lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"Be careful what you fish for," Q tells him, voice low and enticing. James leans forward, distracted.

"I win," Q says, eyes alight with excitement.

"It's a draw," James corrects, hoping his exhaustion won't show. Q's gaze grows sharp.

On his next mission, James finds an exploding pen in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

#11

Title: To Fish or Not to Fish Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: Someone is sending weird presents to Q. He needs to figure out who that someone is.

The mug was ugly. Big, brown, and with a ceramic trout holding a plate “I fish you very much!” engraved in bold letters. It wasn’t the only thing that had been anonymously sent to Q for his birthday this week (other items included cheap chocolate and a teddy bear).

“This is getting ridiculous. Who would give me something so hideous?”

“You know what they say – be careful what you fish for!”

“That’s… not what they say.”

James smirked, obviously happy with himself.

Q continued: “Can you at least pretend that you’re jealous? It used to be you, sending me obnoxious gifts!”

“Don’t act like you thought it was romantic now, you hated it.”

He did. But he still had all the awful trinkets that James had sent him from missions before his retirement. They were displayed in his office, he couldn't force himself to throw them away. Maybe he was sentimental, after all.

“Perhaps it’s from a criminal who wants to infiltrate the MI6,” Q wondered.

James laughed. “I can guarantee you that it’s not a villain, the gifts are indeed from the heart.”

Of course he had something to do with it!

“And you can’t just tell me?”

“Nah. Let minnow when you figure it out!.”

“James, this was a terrible pun, even for you.”

“It’s not kraken you up?”

Truly not.

The question was who could send him these kinds of gifts? It seemed that they weren’t from some admirer either, seeing as James didn’t feel threatened. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Oh my God!”

Suddenly he knew. And it was horrifying.

“It’s from my mum.”

James grinned: “I love that woman. She understands that fish puns are fin-tastic!”

With horror, Q realised that against his better judgment, he had ended up marrying his own mother.

#12

Title: One Hell of a Strange Fish Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: none, just lols Summary: Fishing at lake Erie can be more exciting than you think. 

Felix sighed happily as he sat on his little bench in his little boat and let his mind wander. Bliss like this was hard to come by. A weekend of fishing, peace and relaxation was awaiting him and there was nothing that could spoil it.

Just as he’d finished the thought, a sudden tug at his fishing rod almost made him topple over the rim of his boat. Felix caught himself and cursed, put his feet down and with all his strength, he started reeling in the gigantic fish. It was putting up one hell of a fight. Gritting his teeth, Felix pulled and pulled, until, with an almighty splash, it broke the surface and screamed, just as the hook zinged past Felix’ ear.

Wait… Screamed?

Felix blinked.

“What do you think you’re doing, you bloody idiot!!” the man, not fish, exclaimed and ripped his diving mask off. He glared daggers at Felix, who still stood poised with his rod in hand.

Then the man frowned. “Felix?” he said incredulously.

“James?!”

“What on earth are you doing up there?”

“Me?! What are you doing down there?!”

James huffed, paddling against the water. “I asked first.”

“Well, I’m on holiday.” Felix held up the evidence. “Fishing trip. What about you?”

“Assignment,” James answered simply.

The mental image of a mushroom cloud above lake Erie filled Felix’ head. “Hell. Should I be worried?”

“Not particularly,” James said. “Anyway, should get going. Nice chatting with you.”

“Hold on, James, what –”

“Next time… Be careful what you fish for!” James called out, shoved his mouthpiece back between his teeth and submerged.

“Did you just…” Felix began, but James was already gone.

With a sigh, Felix let himself fall back into his seat and rubbed his forehead. They had to stop meeting like this.

#13

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Merc / the moon of mercury Warnings: none Summary: sometimes Bond prefers not to talk about his missions.

“Now you’re just preening,” Q says, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “Fishing for compliments. Really, Double-O-Seven, must you always make such a show of everything?”

Bond shrugs and finishes straightening his tie, not bothering to argue. He had been admiring his own reflection on the window of the newly painted DB10.

“Quite a dashing image, if I do say so myself. That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s the Geneva Motor Show, no one’s going to take me for a collector if I don’t look the part. What do you think?”

“I’m not the one you need to convince. All I care about is that you get the job done and bring back my car in one piece.”

“Why so grumpy, Q? I’d hoped you’d at least extend the sentiment to my person besides the car. And maybe wish me good luck? I have a feeling this one won’t be easy.”

“Bollocks, you’re going to seduce her, get the intel, and spectacularly blow things up. All of which you invariably accomplish every time. So, off you go and lay your bait. But please, do me a favour and think of the poor car while you’re at it.”

*     *

Q is right. The rich widow falls for his charms, spills her secrets, and buildings explode. Even the Aston survives. A success, all things considered.

Still, it takes him a week after returning to London to face his Quartermaster. The ugly love bites have faded and the overwhelming stench of perfume is nothing but an unpleasant memory. But Q has recordings of the events that went down in her boudoir, and Bond knows for sure he won't let it go.

Unfortunately, his foresight proves right.

“Be careful what you fish for,” he quips the moment Bond steps in, dissolving into laughter.

#14

Title: Look at the Bright Side Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: none Summary: The Quartermaster's job is never easy.

When Bill entered the office, it was dark and quiet. Q sat slumped, painted pale blue under the light of the computer screen.

“Q?” Bill whispered, unsure what he stepped into.

Q looked up, blinking slowly.

“Bill. What are you doing here?”

Bill approached the desk, turning on the lamp. Q flinched from the light, like the sleep-deprived vampire that he was.

“It’s midnight, Q.” Tanner sighed, taking in the wide eyes and the dark shadows under them. “Bond came back hours ago. Why are you still here?"

Q blinked. Bill could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

Christ.

Q pushed a glass bowl from behind the screen. The water inside sloshed wildly from the sharp movement, stirring awake the creature inside.

“It's a... fish?"

“Bond brought it,” Q said. He glared at the fish like it's the source of all of his problems.

“He got you a fish?”

“No,” Q said, eyes narrowing. “He brought back the micro-sized, water-proofed, indestructible hard drive made especially for this mission, containing all the stolen information M asked for."

Bill glanced back at the fish. The fish, who had very sharp teeth inside its slightly gaping mouth.

“Is the hard drive -”

“It's inside the damn piranha!" Q hissed, smacking his head on the table.

Bill couldn't help it.

"Be careful what you fish for, huh?” He said, earning a sharp stare from under the dark mop of curls.

“At least he brought back the equipment this time,” Bill said, smiling apologetically. “Come on, you won’t get anything done by glaring at the fish.”

Q sighed, heavily, but took Bill’s offered hand and stumbled to a stand.

“At least it’s not a komodo dragon this time,“ Q said, as they stepped into the empty parking lot.

Bill couldn't help but laugh.

#15

Title: Cracked Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: n/a Summary: Bond and Q bring down a villain and have a few laughs.

Waves lapped at the sand, offering a gentle, rhythmic backbeat to the sounds of a madman’s island base crashing down in flames.

Bond and Q stood side by side on the beach, each sooty, disheveled, and soaked to the bone. They were sporting various bumps and bruises, some scrapes and burns, but they were pleased with themselves, nonetheless. It had been a grueling few days’ work, filled with more fire, gunplay, and close encounters with sharks and other sharp-toothed marine life than Q was usually comfortable with, but they’d done good work. Yet another villainous plot soundly foiled.

“Well,” Q sighed, “I suppose it’s true what they say.”

“What’s that, Q?” Bond asked idly.

Snickering preemptively, Q answered, “Be careful what you fish for.”

The expected eye-roll and long-suffering sigh never came. Instead, Bond’s expression went curiously blank, before a smile cracked over his face and he began to laugh. It started as a small chuckle before morphing into true, shoulder-shaking amusement, and Q’s own smile slid away in alarm. The joke wasn’t that funny – not that Bond ever laughed at his puns to begin with.

“Oh god, did you sustain head trauma while I wasn’t looking?” Q demanded, his fingers twitching towards Bond’s scalp.

Bond shook his head, still chuckling lightly. “I’m fine, Q. In fact… I’m fintastic.”

In spite of the suspicious anxiety churning in Q’s chest, he couldn’t help it; the pun was so terrible, so ill-timed, so entirely out of place, that Q had to laugh. “Oh, that’s it,” he gasped between giggles, “you’ve finally cracked.”

“I’m fine, Q,” Bond said again, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Q’s smiling mouth before giving him a small shove in the direction of their getaway boat. “Now let’s get out of here.”

*****

GO VOTE!

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

OOC; To Mod - hello! I’m doing a fun thing where I hop into the askboxes of different writers and ask them about their favorite works! This specific blog is like. A huge undertaking, so if you wanna geek out about it, go for it! This can include anything, from arc development shit to fun facts about the blog and how it operates. This is such a cool idea anyways, and I’m sure people would love to hear about it. :)

I am going to geek out about this so hard that you’ll regret ever talking to me.

Hmm...What to talk about that won’t spoil the future of HKU...Oh I know! How about I ramble about

HKU and the Long and Arduous Process of Making Characters and Themes

I will try to avoid details when I can, but I will be discussing the latest developments with Siv, Larc, and Astor, so consider yourself warned for spoilers and catch up if you haven't yet! :3

Waste not, want not: Why I find it important to not waste characters and time

In Hyrule Kingdom Updates, Asivus "Siv" Hartell is the protagonist. Zelda(Mallory) is the deuteragonist. Then finally, LinkLink is the tritagonist. They are the perspectives that I would find most important. However, all in all, I would consider there to be six really important characters in order for HKU to work, that being: Siv, Zelda, Link, Larc, Astor, and Zavis.

Now, I say "really" important for demonstrative purposes because really, all characters are important. Every single one of them. Characters are the lifeblood of HKU, and I spend a lot of time making sure that they don't give off the impression of being self-inserts or just there for fun. I mean they are, but I spend a lot of time making sure they don't seem like that *wink wink*

This is what I define as the essentials for any "good" character:

Someone who provides an interesting/new perspective on the themes of the story

Someone whose wants and needs enhance the plot

Someone that can be understood as an individual

Yet someone that wouldn't be important to the story, without their bonds and relationships to the other characters

I don't really care about how likable a character is, or relatable, or how funny or badass they are; that's all secondary. Third-endary, even. If a character doesn't do enough to serve my story, I cut them, and merge their ideas with an existing characters. Caricautures are for comic relief, and in order to maintain a reader's interest an immersion into my story, I want to consistently give them characters that are well thought out and important. Whenever there's a new face, or an unexpected appearance, I want it to be wordlessly understood that I'm not wasting their time, that there is something this character has to offer.

A reader finding value in something/someone is one of the most important things a writer can have, because it is that particular investment that drives the story, or at least, my story. I cannot stress enough how vital characters are to HKU because this quite literally wouldn't work if you removed even one person from the plot. If you don't find these people important and interesting then EVERYTHING'S ruined. Everything. Every post is a battle for your attention and time, every piece of dialogue is a line I cast into the sea just hoping that there's someone swimming in the ocean because at any MOMENT you could click away, and I know this because I AM a reader, and I WOULD click away if I found something boring. So every plot point is just a battle between the writer me, wanting to spew everything, and reader me, who knows what the essentials are, and what to do to keep a person's investment.

This cycle of writing the story and characters, and understand what is essential and interesting to a reader is what led to me cutting over 20 characters and arcs from HKU.

That's how much time I spend on these fictional fuckers, no one is wasted or expendable. I think the only character that I could write out if I wanted to would be Hestu, and that's mainly because I did actually forget they existed until the Lost Wood's arc rolled around.

So with those points in mind, let's look at some of the characters that I spent a lot of time writing for, that is Siv, Larc, and Astor.

Welcome to the shitpost blog: First Impressions and Establishing...Everything

Welcome to @hyrule-kingdom-updates, and thank you for following! This is just a little comedic blog featuring funny posts from characters who live within Breath of the Wild Hyrule.

Hook, line, and sinker.

There's a lot of reasons why I started HKU this way, (one of them mainly being that I knew no one would read it if I opened immediately with the plot) but the main reason being I believe it was the fastest way to get you interested in the world and the protagonist.

The theme of HKU centers around trauma, and asking the question of what's the right way to deal with the malice(not the goop but like, real-life malicious things) of the world.

So if you want to move a story into a direction that plunges a fictional fairytale kingdom into the realities of life, you first have to establish that fictional fairytale kingdom and it's characters,

Even from the very first post I am working to establish character.

Now, it might seem silly, but there's actually a lot of information that you automatically take in from these two posts alone.

The diction and lack of proper punctuation implies that the narrator is more casual and down to earth

The narrator is aware that people are reading these "updates"

The immediate contrast between the "professional" introduction and humerous shitpost provides insight as to the sense of humour present

The orator is new at their job, and perhaps wants to keep their position

The narrators updates are under the influence of the Royal Family, perhaps more specifically, King Rhoam.

The establishment of Rhoam being in power and Urbosa being alive tells as to when in the timeline of Hyrule we are

Addressments like "don't worry" and "wish me luck" imply that there is value in the reader's opinion and perspective

The goal of the shit post says was basically to establish the world, and what kind of person Siv is. On a meta level, I want you to laugh at the shit posts because that's what Siv is doing. I KNOW you're enjoying the shitposts, therefore it more believable for you to understand that this is something Siv does as well. There's an unspoken distance between you and the world, even if your asks impact it. For you, this is just another funny day in the life, and the same can be said for Siv, but the difference is that for him, it actually IS a reality.

That's why I really enjoyed these days because I was just schemeing behind the scenes, knowing how I was going to turn this all over your heads.

So, you know how he is at the start. Siv is an apathetic individual, he laughs off whatever shit comes his way, and cares only for himself. His view of the world of Hyrule is through the lens of someone who seems to have accept that he has no control over his life, his very job is dictated by royals.

And though he has no respect for authority, and has been deemed a lowly criminal by most people, he still seems like a pretty decent guy. Human. It seems pretty apparant that even though he pretends to not care about the world, he obviously has human morals and wants, and would more than anything like to have control over his life, but he seems to have accepted that's not going to happen.

Siv isn't just sarcastic, or just apathetic to everything, or just a rebellious person. There's a subtle layer to everything, but it's all wrapped in a clearly understandable line of logic. Therefore he is

Someone that can be understood as an individual

At this point in time, if you asked him how to deal with the woes of the world, he would probably shrug his shoulders and say, "laugh it off. Sometimes that's how it is." Whether this idea is something he will main remains to be seen. Therefore as our protagonist, he is

Someone who provides an interesting/new perspective on the themes of the story

Oh brother, it's time to go on a journey: Change and motivation

Now, another way that I break down characters is like this

Want - what they want on the surface

Lie - the belief that they have that prevents them from obtaining their need

Need - what they need to do in order to become better

So, let's break down Siv at this point.

Want: Siv wants to have control over his life, and to do what he wants in order to be happy

Lie: Siv tells himself that there's nothing he can do about his situation, and to just accept the world as it is

Need: Siv needs to learn to give a shit. About himself, and others. He needs to understand that while not everything in life can be controlled, the aspects that we do have power over, like our actions and relationships with others, are important.

Now, Siv doesn't actually go our searching or acting towards his want OR his need, as his lie tells him that he should just take what he can get, and dig in. So far in the story, there is still a distance between him and the reader and the world, because he can choose when to answer asks. He can choose when to confront questions.

So in order to really kick off the story, we have to take that choice away from him.

Enter: The Quill of Roost. Well, more like the quill enters Siv, as he eats it, and we soon discover that now, he can't really escape the questioning voices. Notice that Siv only did this in an effort to do something good, to be a hero. Maybe we'll come back to that later.

So now that we've forced Siv to leave his comfortable apathetic lifestyle, we can start to poke and probe him into a new person. He now has to listen to people more, both literally and metaphorically.

Siv's brother, Arcadius (also known as Larc, by Siv) is a foil, in that he's his opposite. He's not a criminal, he's the respected Captain of the Royal Guard. He's the golden boy, a hero in his own right. He generally respects authority and likes order. I mean, the first time you meet him, he talks like a "how do you do fellow kids" school teacher.

AHe's adored (and simped over) and has a loving family, and lives society's definition of a perfect life.

Yet, despite all of this, there is a deep saddness to Larc that is ever present. He seems to greatly sympathize with Asivus, and has a lot of (yet unseen) regret and guilt. Simiarlly to Siv, he constantly thinks about the unfairness/malice of life, but since Larc seems to have gotten the good end of the stick in life, Larc just convinces himself that any malice or negative emotions he might feel are unjustified, that they don't exist. That he's pathetic to think as such.

But of course, ignoring it doesn't make it go away, Larc still has these emotions, he's still not happy, but he's become to accustomed to them being there and not dealing with them, that's he's almost apathetic about it, similarlly to Siv.

He attempts to find happiness and satisfaction in authority, the the order the kingdom has to offer. He believes that the best thing he can do is be autonomous to whatever the world hands you, whether orders from a king or a father.

But despite this, he understands that deep down, this isn't making him happy. He still hasn't directly dealt with the regrets and guilts he has, even though he tries to hide it under "orders" and the like. He's too much of a coward to do so. Thus, he just concludes that he doesn't deserve to be happy.

Want: Larc wants someone to tell him what to do to be happy. He doesn't want conflict or confrontation, just peace.

Lie: When the life Larc lives doesn't clear his regrets, Larc tells himself that it's because he doesn't deserve to be happy. Thus the very least he could do is do as he's told, and someone like him doesn't deserve to talk back

Need: Larc needs to learn that he does deserve to be happy, but the road to doing so isn't smooth. He needs to learn to care about himself, and actually confront and deal with the problems in his life, instead of running away and being autonomous.

Therefore, Siv and Larc's outlooks on life have contridictions, theirfore their actions also oppose each other at times, and that conflict helps move the story, and make things more fun to watch.

Overtime, we can see their lies start to break down, based on their interactions with other characters, and in their attempt to even help themselves and each other. The autonomous nature and apathy they have starts to break down, whether despite, or because, of their wants and desires.

Now, Siv and Larc just on their own are cool, but with the way they're designed to highlight the theme, and affect the story based on their character driven actions, it makes them both interesting and perhaps even relatable characters, as they are

Someone whose wants and needs enhance the plot

And of course, this pattern isn't just present in the Hartell bros, but in pretty much every character (Except Hestu)

Hey what's that?/We have an older brother/You thought there were two but there is another: Character interaction is pretty cool

So. Siv has allowed himself to open up a little. He dares to be vulnerable for the sake of being happy. He's actually started to rekindle and create bonds, with characters like Larc, Zelda, Link, and Zavis.

But the thing about being open to change and love, can inevitably lead to pain. It's just a reality of life.

Enter: Didymos Astor. Just as the Champion gang comes together, Astor comes along to fuck things up.

On a meta level, Astor is an intriguing character simply because the expectation for him didn't amount to much to begin with. Age of Calamity Astor was just evil for....unstated evil reasons. Therefore writing him was practically just creating an entirely new oc.

So playing with the meta-ness of Astor, there's a lot of mystery to him that I maintained, but in such a way were I actually made sure to eventually answer those mysteries.

At first you don't know why he does what he does, but you do understand that his goal is to help Calamity Ganon rise. He also seemed absolutely confident in his decisions, he believes that his path is the best one.

Then slowly, information is revealed that allows you to understand Astor. And you can bet your bottom dollar that I purposefully did this in parallel with Siv slowly being hurt and betrayed by the people he once let himself be vulnerable with. The understanding of Astor comes with Siv's lack of understanding of the world around him.

Astor at this point in time, is basically a representation of listening to that little voice in your head. Both metaphorically, and quite literally. An "if you can't beat them, join them" attitude.

And of course, because this is HKU, he's not purely an evil villain, and he has an understandble line of logic in his actions, and even morals, as...different as they may be. I try to be very precise with my characters as I don't want to use backstory as an excuse for their actions, I fully intend to let their consequences play out, but at the same time I do want you to understand why someone does something besides just "he evil."

Astor used to have a close relationship with the old Queen of Hyrule, a literal symbol of hope for the kingdom given she possessed the power of Hylia. He himself wasn't a very important person, just some random orphan that probably only got a place at the castle because he was friends with the queen. But when she died, and the fate of Hyrule was apparantly sealed, so too did his hope. A much more depressing outcome of the "you can't control life so be apathetic" view that Astor shares with his brother.

He tried to apply logic to his situation, whether by trying to justify the end by saying that everyone in Hyrule is a fool, or a bad person, or by twisting the memories of his better days into something worse so that he doesn't have to feel as bad.

But of course, the TRUE and absolute reason he does all this, is to save Zelda, because as much as he would loathe to admit it, there's a part of him that still cares. If siding with the Calamity is the only way to save the last connection to the light of your life, then so be it. In a cruel world like Hyrule, why should he be able to enact just a sliver of justice in it.

And honestly he might be right. In the hundreds and thousands of timelines out there, I think there's only two were Zelda actually survives. Not very good chances *wink wink*

He couldn't care less if he looks like a villain as he does this. In fact, he would probably want to. He's been ignored his whole life, so some dramatic time in the spotlight to prove everyone wrong would be euphoric.

Want: Astor wants power over his life, even just a little bit. Just enough to rid the world's vermin, and save Zelda.

Lie: Hope is a lie and everything is doomed. We deserve to lose

Need: If Astor wants to be an actually good person, he needs to learn there are aspects and realities of life that you can't predict or control or assign logic to, yet despite that life is good anyways. Hope isn't always about winning, but about letting yourself live as best you can, and persevere.

Astor is a blast to write, because sometimes he's a stupid emo teen that you can bully for being called "Didymos," and then two minutes later he's a genuinely terrifying villain, and then two minutes after that you're feeling just even the slightest bit of sympathy for him. He's a cunning, cucking, emo bastard and if Larc didn't exist he might just be my favourtie character.

But another thing I love about writing Astor has to do with my fourth point on how I craft characters:

Someone that wouldn't be important to the story, without their bonds and relationships to the other characters

People being enjoyable on their own is great, but I think the best part about writing different characters is seeing how they fit together, like puzzle pieces. This again goes to my point about how no character is wasted, because a complete puzzle doesn't have extra pieces (except Hestu)

So let me just talk about my themes of trauma and how I use malice in HKU

I made this venn diagram awhile ago, but it's kinda....bad. Lmao. So let me summarize in a way that's coherant.

When you get traumatized by something, or something terrible happens to you, even if that experience gets solved, you will probably still have that memory for the rest of your life. That experience, and the consequences that it had, will be something you have with you for a long, long time, and the reality is that sometimes there's nothing you can do about it.

And so the question of HKU becomes...well what exactly do you do with it? Is it a strength, or a weakness, or do you pretend it doesn't exist?

Asivus is the protagonist of the story because it is from his perspective that we explore the most viewpoints and angles of the stories theme, not just through Siv himself, but from his perspective of those around him, and his relationships with them. Again, per the "no character wasted," because quite literally everyone has an opinion on the subject.

For now, let's just focus on Siv, Larc, and Astor.

Hartell Bros and using pictures to appeal to the neurodivergent asshat (AKA myself): The Journey to find your need

This is pretty much where these characters stand at the start of HKU.

Through the beginning arc, Siv becomes less apathetic and actually starts to care, about others, and himself. And eventually, he even follows the hope (ambition) to help Zelda save Hyrule. Now, at this point, Siv doesn't respect Astor, and he envies Larc, so he moves further away from their respective "places" and values. He allows himself to be vulnerable.

Meanwhile, circumstances threaten the most important thing in Larc's life, his family. These circimstances force Larc to go against his usually autonomous lifestyle, and actually act out of personal ambition, and try to take the helm on his life.

Finally, Astor has been in his spot for awhile, ever since he became set on helping to revive the Calamity. And over the first few arcs, nothing happens to him that forces him to change. He stays in his place, because his brother's relationships to him basically make him a moral compass of what they DON'T want to be. (Almost like...getting bad advice, and not taking it.) Astor at the moment is a stationary catalyst who tries to convince Siv to share his viewpoint. And this doesn't happen yet.

So its because of their interactions and relationships that their characters move to here:

HBut the thing about letting yourself be more autonomous, or vulnerable to other people, is that while it does have great benefits, you still might get hurt by other people, so you need to learn how to handle these situations properly.

Asivus does not handle this properly.

When Zavis betrays him, and makes him look like a fool, Siv books it out of the vulnerability department as fast as he can. When Link seemingly shows Siv that the future is broken, and that the world is unfair and out to get him, Siv detaches himself completely from being content (apathetic) and when Siv see he can't rely on anyone to save him, even Zelda, then he moves further into control.

So yeah, Siv's character quite literally wouldn't exist without his relationship to others, and they, him.

Meanwhile, Larc is forces even further into the control and ambition department by being turned into the literal emodiment of ambition and power: a Hollow. Thanks Astor! So for a brief amount of time, he lives at the extreme ends of purple and red, and once he recovers, he desperately wants to move back towards the blue and yellow areas because it wasn't exactly the best of experiences for him.

So now Larc is no longer autonomous to the world around him, and after he is truly revealed as a traitor thanks to being kidnapped and almost dying and the world finding out about everything the gang's been up to, Larc really cannot return to his "following orders" lifestyle. He's on the edge of being where he needs to be, but he still is of the mindset that he doesn't deserve to be happy. So while he allows himself to be in control of his choices, and to follow and protect his family, he rejects hope for himself, and dips into just not caring about himself.

Finally, Astor. His change starts small, but the fact they he shifted at all when he's spent so much of the story as immovable is significant. In a combination of not liking Siv's extremes, and actually expressing hesitation the more he interacts with Zelda, Astor moves out of the yellow and just barely dips into the side of ambition, and the desire to actually change a seemingly unchangeable situation. But it's just barely, and he still sides with Ganon.

So thus, after all those interactions, the Hartell Bros stand around here:

And where will they go from here? Who knows! I'll give you a hint thought...things are really looking Up for Siv (wink wink).

The beauty is that you don't even know if anyone will ever truly live in that perfect harmony that the middle offers, because let me assure you, the people that DO live in that perfect middle, are currently dead. The movement toward that center is a positive character arc, but will everyone achieve a positive character arc? People can enter there sure, but the hard part is staying, of keeping those ideals. And Hylia...don't even get me start on how Link, Zelda, Zavis, and everyone else fits into this, I'd be at here for another six hours.

And also, I think my little graph is a good example of my other themes on mortality and how it's not black and white. There's no extreme good end, and extreme bad end; being a good person is a harmony of the different difficulties every day has to offer.

And then ALL OF THIS, I hide under the guise of mystery, and plot, and humour, and shitposts; evil soup, hot sword people, disaster gays, giant robots, cucking, ninjas, knights, musicians and seers...Just a constantly battle between not being too preachy and not going too off the rails, I myself am constantly trying to find that center harmony as I write HKU.

But make no mistake, this is probably the most fun thing I've written...ever. It kicks my ass sometimes, but it's so....I don't even know how to describe it, it's just great. There just so many things that I have to think about to deal with the story and the characters and it's work but I'm really passionate about it so it's FUN and I love it and I will ramble about it again one day because, fuck man...

Writing is badass.

[dailymallek]

Also went through another path with this story, It’s an AU where Mallek gets sent off planet like he feared, and ends up in a rebellion, 8 long years pass, and he returns home after the fall of the Empire.  Thank you for the ask anon, this was another fun piece to write for. I hope you all enjoy this piece.

- mod kai

The large vessel lands in the open fields, the doors open numerous trolls exit the ship. All of them looking worse for wear, some of them were okay, and others looked like death, and among them was a taller troll, dressed in a fancy outfit, a jumpsuit with blue trimming, on his back a metallic backpack, and blaster pistol attached to his hip along with a series of gadgets and tech. His hair had grown out a bit, and he had facial hair, his eyes were heavy, there was a scar across his face, it was old, he got it during his first years off-planet.

Mallek Adalov, information specialist made spy for the empire, after reaching adulthood was forced to leave his home behind to fight in the ongoing conquering of the universe, the war and battle had hardened him, he was no longer that punk kid trying all he could to hack the system, control the world and save himself from being forced to fight in the war. He saw so much destruction, suffering, making new friends and losing them, putting his life on the line every day, and just barely escaping with the skin of his teeth.

It had become too much for him, and he had enough of it, defying his orders and refusing to do his job, execution was awaiting him, but before he knew he was rescued and found himself in the middle of a rebellion, it may have seemed hopeless, unwinnable but at least with these rebels he could have some measure of freedom, he could focus on his hacking skills, improving greatly in the few sweeps, and after a long battle lasting 5 years, and aid from the other planets, after centuries of dictatorship, the horrors committed against her people and the universe, Her Imperious Condescension was defeated along with the current heiress.

Alternia was free, and now the process of rebuilding and reorganizing the world. After so many years, the surviving adults were finally returning home, the rebellion would be helping all the world still intact from the Condesce’s onslaught. The aliens were still cautious of the remaining trolls, but the trolls who were part of the alliance ensured them that they would take care of their world and aid in the restorations of the many worlds left scarred. The hierarchy of Alternian society was completely shattered, and they were left to pick up the pieces, they had to be prepared for the inevitable power struggle, between the loyalist and the rebels.

But none of that mattered to Mallek right now, he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted…

He eventually made it back to his old place, to his surprise it was still intact, with a few holes, crumbling walls, but still standing despite. He had made some spots and picked up some food, he had tried so many delicacies from the other worlds he ventured to, but it was nice to have something homegrown. The world around him was still in ruin, but all he wanted to do right now was sit on his old couch, and have a nice cold drink. He tries the door handle however when he touches it, the door just falls open, there’s a strong odor that fills his nose when opens the door.

“Smells like home…” He says to himself, entering his old hive. It was exactly how he left it, didn’t look like anyone had been here in a long time, he glances around the room.

He throws off his backpack and unbuckles his gadget belt, tossing them onto the green sofa, and sitting down beside them, a sigh of relief, he grabs a soda can from the bag he had been carrying in his hand, cracking it open and taking big gulps from the can. “Ah…” He leans back to the dusty piece of furniture, a wave of tiredness hits him, it was hard to believe that it was finally over and that he was back here after 8 long years of being off-world.

This would be the point where he’d turn on his TV, but there was a massive hole in that spot, giving a lovely view of the outside, he was really gonna have to get the repairs done to his hive soon…

“Wow, this place has certainly seen better days huh?” A familiar voice pulls Mallek back from his thoughts, the sound of a few footsteps walking over and around the mess. “It smells like death, you should really open a window or something.” Another voice, rather sarcastic and taunting speaks, which makes Mallek chuckle, he turns back to see three friends.

“Hey there.” Mallek smiles seeing Diemen, Galekh and MSPA reader standing there, all much older, the blueblood was still wearing a suit as always, Diemen was still short but he had grown twice his size, his hair was more shaggier, on his back was a giant RPG, and the small little alien friend he met all those years was still the same, wearing his old hoodie, they remained the same, barely aged but still looking worse for wear like the others.

The four of them sat there on Mallek’s couch, each of them holding a canned beverage, the four friends just sit there a silence between them as they just look the night sky, the city in the distant, it was rather peaceful looking, but there was that underline feeling, something that none of them wanted to address. The future…

“It’s really weird to be back here isn’t it?” Diemen was the first to say something, he was last one to have to leave Alternia, one year after Mallek and Galekh had to leave.

“Yeah, it’s all still here, it’s the same and yet different.” The blueblood responds as he had been to his old hive, as well, lucky for him, it was still more intact than Mallek’s place.

“I got so many weird looks from some other trolls on my walk to my old hanging spots.” Diemen chuckles before taking a sip from his drink. “It’s really odd for them.”

“I bet, they’ve never seen an adult troll before, it’s a spectale to them, everything’s gonna change…” Mallek says as he had gotten some strange looks, mixed with fear, awe, amazement and confusion from all the younger trolls.

“Honestly it was same when we went out there and met the adults who had been out there for a few sweeps.” The cerulean troll adds, it was interesting to meet older trolls when he was shipped out.

“Still, it would be best to keep a low profile with everything, being adults is one thing, but being members of a known rebellion who brought down the empire makes for targets huh?” The small alien says, as these three had been part of the large rebellion just after a few years in space.

“Yes, the other highbloods are in a chaos, the heiress and the empress are dead, a lot of the subjugglators have been arrested, captured or dead.” Galekh says, as the highbloods who supported the Empress are in disarray.

“Hey now, let’s not get so political and serious… We all know full well that things are gonna change, for better or for worst, and it’s not gonna be easy. But right now, let’s just have a few cold ones, enjoy a meal and be thankful that the long war is finally over, and a new era begins, or whatever.” Mallek raises his half drunken can as if it were a glass.

“To lost friends, and new beginnings.” Mallek says before chugging the rest of his can, crushing against his head and tossing it to the ground, Diemen and MSPA read mimic his actions, and Galekh just takes a light sip.

“I’m not doing that, but the sentiment is appreciated.” Galekh says fixing his glasses slightly.

“Hey Mallek, can I bunk here tonight?” Diemen asks his friend, the troll just looks at him, and glances around the room again.

“No worries, we’ll need to check the rooms… Don’t wanna give a space and the walls collapse on ya while you sleep.”  He teases his friend, as he had only ventured as far as his living room.

“Oh, if you’re offering rooms, I’d like one.” The alien raises his twig arm up like a kid.

“Okay, okay, you guys are welcome to crash here. What about you, think we’ve got enough room here.” Mallek is more than happy to accommodate Galekh along with the others.

“Oh no, my home is still in mint condition more or less, and there are some other things I must attend to before the night is up… I must be off now, please try not to get into too much trouble you three.”

“Yes sir.” MSPA salutes the tall indigo troll, who just smiles faintly at the other.

Galekh leaves the trio soon after and Mallek guides the others to the guest rooms, it’s all very dusty and cracked walls, and the mess left behind by a younger Mallek but there was a comfy spot or pile of junk to rest on. The three decide to share a room, still before the night ends they continue talking, making small jokes and tomorrow was a new day, and bright new beginning or the start of something more sinister, but for now Mallek was just thankful that those closest to him were safe and with him. Almost everyone, as the troll reaches into his outfit pulling out a small old photograph, it was faded but he smiles faintly at the image of him and the dear friend that he had lost...