#please help me decide what to write

[smeg-and-the-red]

[shima-draws]

Grips my shirt and tears it apart so that all the buttons go flying and SCREAMS I love Law and Cora so much what the FUCK!!!!

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[finniestoncrane]

said to my counsellor that i wasnt built for friendship because everyone always eventually just. stops speaking to me and she went “ok why do you think that is?” and then when i finished my dumb sad list she went “ok so maybe you aren’t good at friendship” and i. have never regretted spending £50 more in my life lol

[walkingstackofbooks]

What's the ideal length of a fanfic chapter?

I am at least a few weeks out from finishing my fic, but I'm just thinking ahead to how I want to put it up

It's a 5+1 fic, so has automatically got 6 chapters. (Julian is stuck for six consecutive days in a timeloop.) Originally, I was just going to post 1 chapter every week as I edited it, but while Chapter 1 is a friendly 3,500 words, Chapters 2 and 3 are both just over the 10,000 word mark, and I'm only halfway through Chapter 4 but it's shaping up to be at least 15,000, somehow!

So my options are:

The Original Plan

I aim to publish one 10k+ word chapter each week.

Pros: It's as intended, each "day" of the story happens in full, within its own chapter. Good if you like long updates?

Cons: Since I don't *actually* know how long editing will take, I might not be able to keep to a weekly schedule and timings may vary. Pretty lengthy chapters.

Plan 2:

I cut each of the original chapters in half for publishing, and either:

2a - I aim to publish two 5k+ word chapters each week.

Pros: It's still mostly as intended, each "day" gets published in full, just in two parts. Shorter chapters

Cons: Timings may vary again, since it's a lot to edit in a week. The story is split up slightly arbitrarily.

2b - I publish one 5k+ word chapter each week (cutting the original chapters in half)

Pros: I should be able to stick to the weekly schedule for sure. Shorter chapters

Cons: Each "day" of the story is cut in half, probably at a somewhat arbitrary point. 1/2 of Chapter 4 is still going to be 7-9k in length 😅

Plan 3

I publish one or two 3-6k word chapters each week. I'd think of the story as one long tale rather than as The Six Days and split up the current chapters into smaller ones at places I feel are suitable.

Pros: Shorter, more even, chapters. Better pacing Being able to stick to a weekly schedule (and possibly an extra chapter every so often)

Cons: Completely abandoning the 5+1 structure Story won't be told as intended

[randomwriteronline]

A Water Agori's scales were more often than not a source of pride for them. They might have been made fun of for being harder to clean than feathers or constantly changing mucus, yet you would not have found a single self-respecting Agori with even the hint of speck of dirt between them, each and every one seeming to seamlessly connect to one another in a long velvety fabric: even Berix, as scrappy as he was, took care to keep at least a dull sheen to his upper skin. That was the mark of a proper Gaquri.

So he was less than keen on jumping out of it when a cold foreign texture wrapped around his shoulder and turned him around.

His mouth was babbling excuses and explanations already, syllables making a mess - no he had not stolen this sword, it was his, he had found it, collected it, it belonged to him, it was all fair, no harm done here, he was just...

The being stared hard at him with their alien face, perfectly silent.

Oh. Oh, this was one of those two, right? The organic things, the ones from the wreckage... The not-Toa-looking Toa. What were their names? Which one could this one have been? They were the Toa of, of, of... He had it on the tip of his tongue--

The hold on his shoulder squeezed a bit, sending a chill rippling through him to get his attention back on the situation at hand.

Ice. This was definitely the Toa of Ice.

Berix felt himself dwarfed under his scowl.

"Hello," he peeped.

Ice Toa (goodness, what was his name?) did not reply - right, because they would not speak, because their throats hurt, right, right. His strange organic eyes fell on the small blade in the Agori's hands and stared at it intently.

"It's mine," the young would-be warrior sputtered out. "It's mine, it's - I found it and repaired it and it's mine, it's, that's, it's - mine. In, in case you were - because I didn't steal it, see? It's... Mine. It's mine."

Ice Toa gave him a strange, confused look.

His free hand pointed at Berix's shield.

"That's also mine. I, er, I won, that, actually. Against a - against a Skrall. I beat it. On my own. I won and I, I gave it away and now it's--"

There were many things he had expected: a mocking gaze, a huff, a roll of the eyes, a nod or shake of the head to denote disbelief, an angry furrowing of the brows, a punch to the head or a hand shutting him up, even.

He had not expected for the being's hands to be so... soft.

They were clasped around one of his own, the one holding the sword, and despite not being warm he almost felt as though he was sinking in them.

They lifted his fist in a manner that he could only describe as inquisitive; then one moved to his shield, grasping it carefully and lifting it as well. Ice Toa set his eyes back on him, not at all hostile but still somewhat stern, and stared a bit more.

Berix stared back for a second. Wow. Those were really, really dark eyes. Very humid. Very beautiful, too...

He startled himself back to reality before he could lose track of his thoughts and stumbled over his words: "Oh, uh, you - you like? These?" he asked.

Ice Toa nodded. He looked around as if searching for something, all while shifting the weapons up and down.

"You... Are looking? For, for weapons? For yourself?"

He nodded again.

"What for?"

At that, Ice Toa stepped back and mimicked meeting the fist in which the Agori held the blade with a similarly set one, as though he too was fully armed. Before Berix could even jolt back, the being pulled the limb back and bent forward in a curt bow.

The spit image of a proper warrior...

"You want to... You want to duel?" that must have been what he'd meant, right? Before he could agree or deny, Berix had begun rambling again: "I mean, I do know a place where there's - I don't know if I'm allowed in there, but, but technically they don't know me, so maybe - but I- I don't know if they'd, if you should, if I - I'm not, er, I'm not a good, a good fighter, I've- I've just started, really, so maybe not - a real duel, I can't do that, but sparring I'd like, I'd, I'd be glad to spar - or maybe it'd be better if I can look for someone else like Gresh or Kiina or maybe even Ackar since they're probably more--"

Cold palms on his shoulders shut him up once more. Ice Toa nodded slowly, maybe a little overwhelmed by the river of words.

What was he agreeing to? "So, should... Should I go call...?"

The other shook his head.

"Ah. So you... It'd be alright, if I... If we sparred?"

A nod.

Something Berix could not exactly know, not having been there, was that the healers had been very clear on keeping the not-Toa-looking Toa in a state of rest until they were both perfectly healthy, fully aware of how clothes worked, able to speak, and with a vague idea of what to do about their current situation.

Something else he could not exactly know as a consequence was that the not-Toa-looking Toa had currently snuck out into New Atero to busy themselves and not go insane where they had laid barely moving for a couple days now, and that Gresh had been notified of as much and was currently scampering across the city looking to wrangle them like unruly goats and haul them right back to their cots kicking and whining (because they could not quite scream) if he had to.

He also could not exactly know that Pohatu was currently half-limping his way to the small still not fully constructed arena with said Glatorian in hot pursuit in order to distract him from Kopaka's attempt at finding both something and someone to fight with, and that he had recently just discovered the joys and horrors of parkouring with a body that is not nearly fast enough nor impervious to caving into itself when you slam your stomach against the ledge of a roof. Though to be fair, Kopaka didn't know that either - because if he did, he would instantly give up on his own desire for a healthy battle, join Gresh in his chase, and tie his brother to the bed himself.

All that Berix was currently aware of was that a seasoned warrior with the most beautiful dark eyes he'd ever seen wanted to spar with him, and honestly, that was never going to happen again.

So he shrieked: "Sure!! Sure thing!" and dragged the organic being along to the arena so fast he almost ripped his arm off.

The portion of the building currently accessible was small enough for very few people to actually be there, but that did not stop it from being abuzz with a tiny crowd of mostly fairly young Glatorian anxious to prove their prowess against their peers. An armory of sorts had been set up too, blacksmiths and welders fixing up weapons before leaving them in a nook to simply wait for someone to pick them up - blades and shields of almost every shape and size, each less familiar than the last.

Kopaka let his fingers meander over the metal, slowly taking in the textures as he looked something his speed. It felt cold, smooth - completely foreign.

Something alien and external to his body.

His thoughts wandered to his tool, lost to the Star, as he attempted to replace that extension of himself with something infinitely lesser.

He shook his head.

A smith glared at him as his fingers settled on grasping a double edged sword, as plain as could be (no curves, no spikes, no embellishments, just a handle and a straight blade) and raised it to evaluate it in silence.

"Whatcha lookin' fer, piece o' meat?" they barked at him, drawing a few other people's attention to the strange creature with no armor: "Tryin' t' bore yer opponent t' death with that piece o' scrap? None o' me other works good 'nuff fer ye? Leave th' weapons t' felks wh' know what t' do with 'em, ye soft-skinned freak, they need 'em more than th' likes o' ye ever will."

Kopaka held the plain sword out in front of himself.

He swung once, twice, the natural swiftness with which he did so turning the solid shape into a gray blur. He twirled the handle in his palm with ease in a motion so smooth and fluid that his wrist seemed made out of water: the blade whistled threateningly as he brought it down, only stopping inches from the ground.

As different as it was, his body remembered well. Good. Something less to worry about.

Nobody made any additional comments when he moved on to checking over the various shields with furrowed brows and a methodical look. He tested their weight, how they felt around his arm and hand - frowning at the discomfort against his skin, against his bones, against his everything - until he found one that felt familiar enough.

He turned to Berix, scaring a few onlookers as his hard focused eyes passed over them for a second - sending them rushing back to minding their business, though the buzz of their murmuring seemed a little more hushed. The scrappy Agori simply stood, half entranced by his display: he jolted back to life when the Toa nodded towards the open portion of the arena, as if just reminded of the spar he'd been promised, and scampered off to follow him.

"Hey, hold- uh, I was wondering, actually, avout- about-" he began, stumbling all over his own tongue as he tried to word himself.

It was a little hard to focus while Kopaka kept trying out his sword, handle twirled between his careful fingers almost absentmindedly, swinging and pulling back against a mellow imaginary foe or testing out his grip on the shield as he shifted left and right - his thin skin grew taught at every motion, and the apparent softness of the body hardened with each shift of the muscles as they tensed, relaxed, tensed, relaxed.

The strain accompanying the growing intensity of the action made his limbs tremble a little, probably due to a recent lack of exercise. Aside from that, however, everything about the Ice Toa screamed that he was quite the incredible opponent to be up against.

Berix swallowed to get past the dryness of his mouth: "About, about-" he tried again, but completely missed the start of the sentence and had to clear his throat: "I was -- I wanted to ask if you, if - are, are you sure you don't want to, uh, you know... Ahem! Are you sure you want to fight like, like that?"

The warrior nodded, tapping the ground with the tip of his sword.

"You're certain?" the Agori insisted.

His answer was a gentle clang as the blade hit the shield: an open invite, even somewhat impatient.

The younger being gripped his own weapons harder. Alright. Alright. It was just a spar. He'd handle it just fine! He just had to be careful about this. Just had to be careful.

The not-Toa-looking Toa stared and waited.

Berix raised his arm, aiming for the center of the shield before him: he looked to his own feet as he stepped forward somewhat clumsily, which almost made him slam his teeth against the hard steel surface as the barrier was raised - clearly expecting a blow meant to land much higher.

He was shoved back gently as he tried to mumble apologies. His sparring partner hit the shield with his own sword again, this time resting the blade on the top of it.

"I - I know, yeah, I know," Berix nodded, "I need to hit the- I know, that--"

A hand forcibly raised his head from under the chin to stop him from looking down: dark humid eyes held his gaze steady and forced him to hold it back, actively fighting his attempts at checking that his armored boots would not end up stepping on and crushing the frail bare feet he was pitted up against. The Toa drew a line with his fingers between his head and the Agori's with a stern curve to the shape his mouth.

"I know!" the younger being repeated with a more vehement nod, feeling awfully embarrassed. He'd had this sort of conversation so many times before, with Glatorian and Agori alike, and every single time it was because he'd made a fool of himself: "I know, I need to keep -- I just, I'm worried I'll - I mean, you're, I don't want to--"

A pat on his cheek stopped his rambling. The Ice Toa held his own chin out in a strange way, as if to say it didn't matter, he didn't have to worry; he took a step back, gestured at him to remind him to look straight at his face, and jerked his shield towards himself to invite him forward.

Berix's second swing aimed closer to the head and hit only a little above the center of the shield.

Kopaka threw him back again, nodding. His sword clanged harder against his only protection, twice, encouragingly: good, good! You've got that part down, now put in your strength. I'll hold steady, you just need to hit, hard.

The third swing pushed him back ever so slightly, and his arm seized in a comfortable familiar way and his hand gripped tighter, and he swung back, and as he hit without hurting a chill rippled through his spine, and it felt good. It felt right and natural and normal, and suddenly the flesh felt less cumbersome and his joints felt more fluid and his body moved like a well-oiled machine and his tools were a part of him and he was Kopaka Mata Nuva, Toa of Ice, protector of Mata Nui, of Ko-Koro, of Ko-Metru, of Karda Nui.

He was himself.

He was fully himself.

He needed more of this.

His movements were careful, calculated, because Berix was only starting to thread the path he'd been born on and could not have kept up with him otherwise, but it did not bother him. So long as they kept sparring, he was more than fine with the slower pace, the lessened tension. Correcting him was good practice too, a healthy way to remind himself of proper form - he'd never had to think about it before, but it was good to become conscious of it; it also meant that the other grew more steadfast, more sure, more confident with each silent instruction, hitting harder, faster, in a gentle yet constant crescendo that the Toa couldn't help but find slowly exhilarating.

Excitement got the best of him for a moment: with a lightning-fast flick of his elbow he parried the Agori's blade before it could even land a hit and sent it sliding across the ground.

Somebody above him clapped enthusiastically.

Both sparring partners looked up, startled: right in front of the finished portion of the arena's seats, dirty bandaged legs giddily dangling from the ledge and clothing covered in stains of dirt and sand, Pohatu treated them to a radiant smile and a wide wave of his hand.

That had to be his quietest entrance yet, Kopaka mused as he straightened his back. Quite the achievement, really.

The not-Toa-looking Toa clapped again, much faster, hands lowered to point at the discarded weapon. His brother quickly made his way to it: grasping the blade very carefully he picked it up and handed it back to the somewhat stunned Agori, who grabbed the handle with a start.

"You're fast," he only babbled a bit breathless.

Kopaka nodded deeply, in thanks.

Berix took a deep breath to push his chest out, lowered his stance to steady his footing, and fixed his grip. The satisfied look he got back just for properly preparing himself for the coming fight made a proud wobbly smile bloom on his face: perhaps he let it get to his head a little bit, smacking his sword against his own shield in an invite mirroring the warrior's, but he couldn't help the thrill coursing through him when his sparring partner smirked gingerly.

The swing coming a him hit true with a loud clang, making him stumble back, but he managed to respond. They exchanged blows - not evenly matched at all, but exchanged they were, in a manner close enough to a dance, and Pohatu looked closely with limbs shaking from adrenaline.

Metal against metal covered every other sound. Bang, clang, clink, sdeng, like a clumsy iron beast hopping in place on unsteady legs, leaning and crashing against the iron bars of the cage in which it was stuck, biting them and kicking them and pushing them and scratching them and slamming its head against them, louder, softer, faster, slower, quicker, subtler, harsher, gentler, resolute, steady, unclear, stumbling, howling, snarling, rhythmic, wild, complete, shapeless, precise, senseless, in a maddened melody without words, just bang, bang, bang, bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! A shout.

His eyes turned upwards. Gresh was running breathlessly towards Pohatu looking like he was going to bite his ass off. His shield slipped off. A blade too fast was coming. His armor would do.

He raised an arm.

There was a tinkering sound of iron against iron, and a strangled scream.

He parried the sword to the side, shoving it off.

It clattered to the ground.

"I'm sorry!" Berix shouted. His hands were trembling, caught between clutching at his mouth and reaching out towards him, to try and help, his weapons dropped, his face pale beneath his helmet. "I'm sorry!"

Kopaka shook his head to reassure him. Something was dripping down his arm; he shook it as well, trying to get rid of the sensation.

But the Agori kept shouting, kept apologizing, not knowing what to do, and more voices began murmuring as well, someone cursed, someone asked him if he was alright, someone tried to reach out to him - he yanked himself back: too much attention. Too much noise. He turned back to Pohatu only to find him staring, color drained from him, clutching his arm. Gresh had forgotten all about him and was now shouting at the Toa of Ice as he rushed down the arena's seats.

The dripping persisted.

Kopaka shook his arm again, feeling strange. He looked down at it.

It was bleeding.

Oh.

Right.

No armor.

His breath suddenly seemed to be so much louder in his ears.

In an unsightly calm haze, not even certain whether he was acting on his own accord, he shifted the sword onto his injured hand, sank his fingers into the open wound (feeling the severed muscles spasm against his digits, the liquid trickle out of him, the frayed skin struggle to hold on), and peeled the flesh away, further, further, further, until his fingertips rested on something cold; until the almost rusted dull sheen of his bones met his eyes.

The world tilted back to make him stumble a few steps, and he leaned forward to keep his balance - his movements felt sluggish, his head suddenly light. A disgusting tingle passed through him and coiled around his intestines with a tight grip.

Something grabbed him from behind, keeping him steady while everything slid left and right like untethered chairs rocking on a ship caught up in a storm at sea.

He could not make out words, could not make out textures, he wasn't even sure he could see, but even despite the great tiredness that overcame him all at once he winced as every noise around him became far, far too loud; so Kopaka shut his eyes hard and decided to stop hearing.

He opened them again a second later, feeling heavy and numb.

Or like he'd been stampeded by a Kikanalo herd.

He stared at the ceiling for a while before remembering the arena didn't have one.

His other senses sizzled to life slowly, taking their sweet time before they allowed him to get a proper idea of his sorroundings: the rough cloth of the cot was familiar enough against his limbs, his legs held a little aloft on what probably were some hardened cushions, and the fabric of the clothes provided to him was bunched up in multiple places from the sort of curled up position he was laying in; indistinguishable voices were muttering to themselves, probably coming from another room based on how muffled they sounded - he wasn't in the mood to try and comprehend speech at the moment, so he simply allowed their buzz to fill the space with white noise.

Something thin, like a wire, a thread of sorts, was in his arm. He could feel its hold on him, on his individual cells, as it pulled his flesh taught together to close his wound while it still pulsed beneath, above and around it.

If he'd been more conscious, he would have ripped it out of himself in a panicked hurry; thankfully he was barely tethered to the material world at the moment, so the horror didn't hit so hard.

His back laid against something soft and warm; so not the bed. Whatever it was held him in place with equally soft straps of sorts, two curled around his waist and one wrapped tight around his chest in a loving and fearful manner, while another part of it was buried in his hair and one hand held his, at once careful not to grip too tight yet keeping his palm captive in an invincible grasp. His comfortable cage whined quietly, with a certain rhythm, and he could feel the breath come in worried huffs through its nose.

He squeezed the hand in reassurance. Pohatu stopped whimpering to gently tighten his embrace around him and dug the lower half of his face further into his hair.

Oh, one of the voices from the other room seemed to say, Is he conscious?

His brother simply rocked him in place.

An orange visage came into view as Kopaka's neck was craned by the other Toa's hold - a Tapyri, a somewhat old one, it seemed. Next to them stood another one, probably from the water tribe and much shorter, wringing their hands together with a worried, sheepish expression. They looked familiar, but in his state and without their helmet on Kopaka wasn't quite certain he could recognize them right now.

The tall Fire Agori (Glatorian?)'s mouth moved: Hey there, said his voice from another room: Are you with us?

The not-Toa-looking Toa blinked slowly without answering. One of his thumbs raised affirmatively.

"Good to know. You were out for quite a bit, I've been told," the being replied. Then, looking him up and down again to properly take in his near catatonic state: "And if I have to be honest you still don't look that fine to me."

"What would you expect from someone who got his arm almost cleaved in half?" Gresh's voice intervened angrily, though Gresh himself appeared to be invisible - oh, nope, there he was, walking into his line of sight. The room wasn't limited to Kopaka's motionless eyes, after all.

The Gaquri turned to him sharply at that: "I didn't mean to!" he cried out with a shrill voice that revealed him to be Berix, sounding as though he'd been repeating that same sentence twenty times a minute.

The older Glatorian waved a hand to stop their argument before it could start again.

"But it's true!" Berix insisted: "I didn't mean to, I was in the middle of a swing and I didn't manage to stop it! I didn't--"

"But you did!"

"Gresh, calm down."

"But it was an accident, I swear! We were both so focused and then you yelled," (and he pointed an accusatory finger at the Jungle Glatorian) "And he got distracted and dropped his shield and didn't have time to think of going for a parry probably and I was in the middle of the swing, I couldn't stop the momentum in time, and then he raised his arm and I--"

His rambling was interrupted by a clack of teeth against teeth as soon when his hand began wandering too close to the cot.

The poor thing retreated with a yelp as Pohatu all but snarled at him with the pulled back lip of a Muaka whose territory has been carelessly breached by foolish outsiders, his hands closed tight into fists around Kopaka's clothing, hardened in the manner of claws, willing to protect him at all costs. His brother could not see him from how his head was angled, but he could imagine him, and it was frankly such an unnatural sight in his mind's eye that he was glad he couldn't witness it directly.

But the Agori was right: it hadn't been his fault. If the not-Toa-looking Toa had never separated in order to make the healers lose their tracks, Pohatu would have never ended up chased by Gresh, who would have never shouted at him in the arena, thus not distracting Kopaka while Berix was about to swing. His injury had been a group effort of sorts.

Hurray for Unity and all.

The older Glatorian glared sternly at the four younger beings in the room: "All of you, calm down!" he ordered.

The mechanically enhanced boys hushed, one clearly aggrieved, one trying to disappear in his own shoulders; the not-Toa-looking Toa moved from a wordless roar to a low growl.

The Glatorian gave him a certain look - one reminiscent of the kind that often accompanied Onewa's reprimands: "I said, calm down."

Kopaka managed to pat his elbow clumsily to make his stone-stubborn peer desist.

His brother pouted and retreated in his hair, quiet.

"There," the older warrior sighed: "Was it so hard?"

A few indistinct grumbles replied; he elected to ignore them in order to focus on the frazzled being still recovering from his fainting bout.

Despite the half-lidden eyes and mildly vacant gaze, he did not seem to be too disoriented or puzzled; his movements weren't exactly graceful but his coordination was not bad, only about on par with someone who has just woken up from a deep sleep, and would have certainly improved once he properly got over the bloodloss-induced dizziness that still had a hold on him. He wouldn't be surprised if he was processing something else as well - from what he'd understood between accounts from Gresh, Berix and doctors alike the wound went all the way down to the bone, and this skilled, clearly veteran warrior had had the bright idea of personally checking just how deep his injury happened to be by manually peeling the muscle apart. He had seen even worse things than exposed bone of course (the Core Wars were filled with plenty of material for the worst of night terrors to sample from), but a being that hadn't even had skin up until not too long ago would have reasonably been a bit more than startled before such a sight.

They certainly had peculiar eyes. All that white around the iris...

The not-Toa-looking Toa blinked slowly.

"My name is Ackar," the Glatorian began, realizing he hadn't exactly introduced himself to either of the beings on the cot. He gestured at Berix and Gresh vaguely: "These two are under my supervision. You are... Kopaka, isn't it?"

The other nodded - as best as he could with his head bent somewhat awkwardly from within his peer's embrace.

"How are you feeling?"

He raised a hand limply, waving it a bit: more or less alright.

Better than nothing, Ackar thought to himself: "The healers are pretty furious with you two for running off like that, you know. Your friend took his own dose of yelling already."

Said friend - Pohatu, if he remembered correctly - looked perfectly remorseless.

"I'd be willing to mellow them out when they inevitably come to lecture you," (which if I had to be fair you wholly deserve, he did not add, because only an idiot parries with his arm, even when he's a master swordsman, which you clearly are and only adds to my dismay), "If you'd be up to explaining what happened in the arena."

"But I already--!" the other two Spherus Magna natives protested.

Ackar raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks: "I know what both of you said," he replied, "But he's the one who got injured, and I want to hear what he has to say about it."

"But he can't!" Berix insisted.

"Physically!" Gresh added quickly, before the Agori could make it seem as though they were hiding something. Ackar gave him a strange look, and he repeated: "Physically. He can't - they don't speak. They don't really know how. Because, well, mouths and all - they just didn't have them before, so they don't really know what to do with all of that."

"Yes, that's - that's what I meant. I meant that. Not that he- that we-" the Jungle Glatorian shot Berix a glare, and the Agori's voice turned tiny and shrill: "I'll shut up."

His peer grunted in approval: "And also they feel their vocal chords and it bothers them."

The Fire Glatorian blinked.

"They what?"

"The doctors said that's the problem, likely."

"Alright. But they feel their what?"

"Their... Their vocal chords. They can probably feel the air going through them and it bothers them. Because they did try, but they always stopped halfway through and held their throats."

Ackar turned back to the organic beings.

Kopaka showed no reaction whatsoever, still partially dazed. Pohatu, instead, had furrowed his brows in concern and raised a hand to his brother's neck, fingers almost grazing it as though he could have shielded it; when he met the older warrior's eyes he simply nodded in confirmation.

The Glatorian's shoulders rose and fell gently with a sigh: "Well, something's got to be done about that," he just noted. "You really cannot say anything? Not even vocalize?"

The not-Toa-looking Toa shook his head.

"Is it that painful?"

Again, shake of a head.

"It doesn't hurt? So it's a matter of discomfort?"

A nod.

"We can at least work with it then. That's a relief."

A wordless whine. Evidently the being had connected the dots and wasn't keen on enacting Ackar's plan in the slightest.

The veteran huffed through his nose, half amused: "Don't act so difficult, kid. Either you start getting used to the feeling or we'll have to play charades to communicate with the two of you for the rest of your lives - and I can assure you, no matter how uncomfortable that feels, it can't be any worse than trying to bathe a Spikit."

Pohatu shot him a very eloquent glare: I don't know what that is, it replied bitterly, so I'll assume you're wrong.

Ah, yes.

Typical.

Ackar smirked in a way that could have almost been interpreted as fond. This sort of behavior reminded him of Kiina.

"Just open your mouth and say 'A'. That should be simple enough."

It did sound simple enough, Kopaka had to admit. Certainly, if all he had to do was part his lips and let the air out of his chest loudly, he would have managed that. It would have even been a quick matter, and he would have barely felt a thing. His voice probably would have cracked due to disuse, which would have been awfully embarrassing, but he could have just spoken softly enough and nobody would have even noticed.

He separated his jaws in the way one does when yawning, and proceded to let out a blood curling scream.

When he was done, he coughed.

His throat hurt a little bit.

The room remained quiet for a moment. Understandably.

Then Pohatu spat out a laugh - only a couple of syllables, completely devoid of myrth.

And then he laughed again, and again, and he kept laughing, laughing, laughing, increasingly histerically so, until he was all but hyperventilating into his brother's hair as his chest compressed and expanded like a crazed accordion.

He wasn't really sure what part of this ordeal was the worst - the lightheadedness that was squeezing the world into itself like some kind of funhouse mirror, the feeling of his larinx spasming erratically with every exhale, the deafening sound of his own heaving breaths, the sudden complete inability to percieve anything through his other senses, the fact he had no idea why he was reacting like this, the fact that even if he had the time to try he could not stop?

A cold hand landed heavy on his head. His brother patted him slowly, less gently than he would have if he'd been a little less out of it: it took what felt like hours, but the repetitive comfort managed to stabilize his breathing into silence again.

A head peeked into the room.

"Another patient almost went into cardiac arrest from whatever the hell that was," the healer said, at once flatly and with genuine concern: "Are you people alright?"

Pohatu held onto his brother with eyes blown wide without saying a single thing; said brother replied to the question by silently raising his free thumb, still petting the other's head to keep the fit of insanity from taking over his mouth a second time.

Gresh stared at the two not-Toa-looking Toa like they were some unsightly multiheaded Vorox-Skrall-Rock Steed hybrid of sorts.

Berix was too busy hiding behind him to speak or look.

Ackar sighed.

"It's a start," he decided to say, encouragingly.

[boxwinebaddie]

hi nina! do you have any other songs that you think cd would cover? i just really liked new perspective and i think ur music taste is rlly cool :3

d'awww!!! hi there, sweet pea! <3

tysm for your ask but, before you start reading ( because this message got VERY long ), i just want to let everyone know that i used this ask to explain some Very Complex Ravenstan/Callgirl Fake Dating Lore...so if you are interested in that, it starts towards the middle of this ask...it's a lil chaotic, but i tried to make it as interesting and clear as i could! no obligation to read, ofc, as always, but i did want to preface this ask with that info, so you know this one is

*Secretly An Important RM Lore Ask.*

but back to what i was doing ( screaming ):

— because aAAAAAAAAAA!!!! c': <333

i am not even joking, you guys, despite the fact that my fic is based almost entirely around Music, i avoided answering music-related asks for so LONG bc i was legitimately so nervous about it being negatively perceived or read for filth on here, which, i Know, is silly because it's my fanfic and what i say goes, i can't change my music taste anymore than i can change the way my dna loops, but...idk.

like, i feel like A Lot of people are self conscious abt their music taste, but my social anxiety/inferiority complex can get so gnarly that i actually get Nervous when people ask me about what kind of music i like and i never EVER sit shot gun in cars bc i am...scared to aux. :/

iiiiiit's...That Bad. ( nina, please get therapy. )

i also feel like people in this fandom can get Very Intense about what kind of music they associate with the boys/what music the boys listen to and are FRIGHTENINGLY QUICK to rip people to shreds over opinions that don't align with theirs or aren't obscure or 'cool' enough.

bc of that, i try to be Very Lowkey on this blog because the larger part of this fandom and the criminally insane level at which they escalate petty fights over canon/fanon, like to the point that they are frothing at the mouth and start doxing people...gives me Extreme Stress. which, in my line of work, i actually CANNOT have happen.

tldr; i want absolutely NO part of it and like my lil corner.

thank you for keeping it Safe. <3

AND THANK YOU FOR ENJOYING MY MUSIC TASTE!!! EEEE c: <3 THAT IS SO REASURRING AND HEALING FOR ME TO HEAR!!!! MUSIC TO MY EARS, BABY! LITERALLY! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THAAAANK YOU! *holds you* *squishes you* *kisses ur head*

istg, if nothing else the fact that i have a bunch of you rocking out to New Perspective and positively associating it with my fanfic means that i have done my job and that's a legacy i'm willing to die with.

i'm being so serious, i feel like if rm was a tv show, it would play as the outro to every episode...but like a nice, soft, raw version w/ ravenstan on acoustic guitar to contrast the hard ass cd cover of style by tswizz that i think would open every episode...smh, nina, please, pleease stop imagining your unfinished, crack-fanfic as a netflix og series. >.>

BUT!!! okay!!!! in vein of trying not to worry about the perception of my music taste or what other people want from me...tHIS IS A KIND OF CONTREVERSIAL TAKE BUT I TIED IT TO THE PLOT, OKAY?

so, as a little nina lore and for context, when i was in elementary school around like 4th/5th grade, i was listening to like a lot of early y2k bangers, ig. dirty little secret by all american rejects, hey there delilah by the plain white tees, girlfriend by avril lavigne core, etc.

( just to make you giggle, i also had a ps2 and there was a series of video games called singstar that were some off shoot of rockband/gh that had mics you plugged directly into the system...pls note my high score on sk8r boi really should be put in the guinness world records, like if you held a gun to my head and told me to sing that song, i not only would i fuck it up but i would LIVE, baby! better luck next time! )

...it was also around early disney channel times ( the disney channel games with the team colors...that was my OLYMPICS, bitch! ) and i had this Disney Pop Hits Vol...1? i think? cd i used to play on the prehistoric radio thing in my room and my favorite song on it was...

pop princess by the click five.

AND I KNOW!!! I KNOOOOOW!!!! controversial take, but i am sorry, THAT SONG FUCKS!!!! THAT SONG IS SOOOO AWESOME!!!!!

and i feel like when ravenstan was fake dating call girl during the great hate south park embark, cd covered it: i am picturing a less finger-bang, btr, disney channel esqe sound and more of a pop-punk, pedal to the metal, electric guitar type, edgy rockstar boy typa beat.

but Yes, i think ravenstan covered it or idk i really think that it was made FOR call girl. and it was BAD ASF. i also think bc tcf wrote that song about hannah montana ( iconic ), and bc call girl is basically the whole internet's e-girl bubblegum pop princess in my fanfic, it just...

makes...Sense.

am i making sense? do we see the vision? aka rs in his lil pants w/ the ripped red and black flannel tied around his waist, fallin to his knees, singing his heart out, pointing at her, winking? PPL DIIIIIIIIIED.

and by people, i do mean jerseykyle n bebe who were MAD AS HELL,

-- but also tapping their toe...smh.

it was both very cool and very annoying. RIP.

( ...do i have jersey and bebe make out during the pop princess call girl tribute as mlm/wlw solidarity? HEEEELP ICOOONIC *jk vibrating with stress and anger vc* barbara, i need you to do somethin for me don't ask questions, i'll explain later, It's Important sdks MESSY! )

BUT OKAY!!!! SPEAAAAKING OF THEM AND THAT AND CALLGIRL AND RAVEN OF CRIMSON DAWN DATING!!!! i wanted to give you some lore and some spoilery plot about that/them bc it is burning a Hole in my brain...i must discuss r.s. and call girl becaaaause

~Its....Complicated.~

ANYWAYS!!!! IMPORTANT PLOT TIME!!!!

so, for more context: i am currently working on another ask abt how ike found out that jerseykyle/ravenstan used to be dating and during that conversation in kyle's room about three days into the sp trip, CONCURRENTLY somewhere Else, ravenstan and call girl are getting ready to do some flashy PR thing like go on a date/get din, idk.

BUT RIGHT BEFORE IT: ravenstan and call girl are alone together, and ravenstan, who, i am not even kidding you, is sooo fucking Pissed that this is EVEN HAPPENING because kyle is super mad at him, was like you are Actually Dead to me, WILL NOT TALK TO HIM...

( which without spoiling too much -- is actually why ike can tell that somethin Fucked Up is happening because j.k. is super aggressive and loud and is not afraid to Fuck Your Shit Up...but has not laid a FINGER on raven of crimson dawn...and actually, seems to not even want to be Near him, barely acknowledges his existence, leaves rooms that he is in and is Radio Silent around him...WHICH IS TWICE AS SCARY AS J.K. YELLING AND TRYING TO KILL YOU. so, uhh, Not fucking...Good, you guys. ike was like...this is...not fucking normal. )

but again, he cannot tell kyle what is going on bc he might actuuuuallly get MURDERED??? uh???

anyways, in whatever secure, secluded space rae/cg are in ( its somewhere private, i pictured a dressing room of sorts, like a makeup trailer, somewhere they have to take pics ) stan is Extremely Straight Up with her and says something to the effect of:

"i have no idea what you think this is or what you want this to be or what they told you, but we are not dating and this...is NOT. Real."

and call girl ( aka wendy whose identity is a secret to EVERYONE, No One has seen the bottom half of call girl's face...Ever. she changes her wigs everyday, they are Very Elaborate and is always in a very high tech face mask that covers her face from the nose down and uses a voice modulator to mask her speaking voice...a mysterious queen ) oddly enough seems completely relieved by this statement and is like

*squints*

"don't worry, Emo Boy. feeling is mutual. like, no offense, but you are seriously...not my type. Ew. trust me, i don’t want to do this either but,

— I Have To."

wHICHSHDLSKDHLSD SHE GUTTED HIM HELP. he was *gigantic stan slow eye blinks in shock* like "right, okay, Ow. that was...Mean." kshdlksdls but then was "--but i am glad we...agree. i Also HAVE To. not because of publicity, it's...Deeper than that...i can't really ta--"

to which call girl, locking eyes with him, dead seriously, lowering her modulated voice is like...

"it's tenorman, right?

He Threatened You."

and r.s, gagged! Again!!! is like

"holy shit, he THREATENED /YOU/ TOO?!?!"

and call girl nods very slowly and starts to say

"he told me if i didn't do it he would..."

and rs with the same kind of mounting horror whispers

" — Kill Everyone You Love And Care About?"

which, at this point, folks, they are both like...

...WOAH.

bc they realize they are both stuck in the same torture chamber together, they Both got cornered into this really elaborate ruse and have to keep it up in order to keep the people that they love Safe and it's...A Lot. it...really is. but it's also sort of freeing and cathartic to knowing you are not alone going through what is pretty much the worst thing that has ever happened to you in your entire life.

i also feel like...there is this natural bond. this Energy between them. like they understand/see each other and feel...safe with one another.

and call girl, guard still up, dips a toe in uncharted water, and goes:

"well...since were partners in crime now and have to live a lie in public...i think we at least owe it to each other in private...

...to be Real."

she offers this bc they have reached an understanding, an impasse, a standstill, a draw of sorts. and there is a thick tension...as well as this crescendoing vulnerability that hangs the air with her ultimatum as they stare warily at each other, strangers, both wearing still wearing their masks, call girl physically in hers and stan in his metaphorical one doing the dark, raspy smoke and mirrors raven voice bc he is...not sure about her in the same way that she is...

...still not sure abt him.

( they are basically that one spiderman meme where both the spidermans are holding each other at gun point. ) and it's a huge Risk to indulge her request, but again...they both have everything to lose.

and no one...but Eachother.

so he indulges her very tentatively and counters:

"alright...then, tell me something Real, call girl."

to which she nods, closes her eyes and goes. "fine. my real name..."

call girl trails off, reaches up to tap the voice modulator on her mask, turns it off, reaches out her rhine-stoned, sequined, hot pink faux leather gloved hand out to shake his and in her real voice, says,

" — Is Wendy."

and this...is a Very BIG Deal.

again, no one has ever heard call girl's voice before. no one knows what her name is or Anything about her. she doesn't even preform live, she does virtual concerts and is basically this sort of mysterious, ai, vocaloid/miku internet personality that is very Carefully and elaborately Coded and ENCRYPTED to keep her identity Safe.

so her turning off her voice mod and speaking to stan, not as a fictional, larger than life computer-generated celebrity, but as a human being...is massive.

it's also very...Comforting to ravenstan.

who has not been himself...for a very long time. and it's not smart, it's not a good idea, but he decides to trust her and in turn,

in his real voice, says,

"stan. my name...is Stan.

It's Nice To Meet You, Wendy."

he shakes her hand and she shakes his.

she says, "it's nice to meet you too, stan." :)

and it feels...Nice. it should feel wrong, what they're doing, but it feels right, it feels fucking amazing to stop Preforming. she knows his name, she's seen his face...but realizes he still has not seen Hers and running on adrenaline, bolstered by a rare surge of bravery, chinks at her armor, or mask rather, and makes a motion.

literally.

bc he reaches up towards her face and goes, "oof. it's nice to hear your human voice; the dystopian robot voice was lowkey espantoso."

he laughs, it's genuine and super ugly, god bless him. so you Know he's being really real when he asks "but...if it's all the same to you. if were going to speak freely; i'd like to...see Who i am speaking to.

so can i, please, uh...see your Face? your whole face.

your...Real face."

and oof. this...is a little nerve-wracking for wendalends.

she's neeeever taken the mask off. ever. Ever. EVER.

For A-n-y-o-n-e.

but...she might never have the chance again and it is...really stuffy under there. so she Agrees and lets stan remove her face apparatus.

ravenstan does say "Wowza." HDLKSHDSl amazing.

he's also my boyfail king and says something very fucking stupid like

"sorry, you're REALLY Pretty. i was worried might look like deadpool under there." she smiles, it's beautiful. no one has seen her real smile before as call girl and thanks him. she goes on to apologize and is like

"thank you, stan. you're really sweet and i...am sorry i said 'ew'. it's not because you're ugly, you're kind of...Cute for a guy, actually? you have really nice bone structure and very kind eyes. it's just, when i said you weren't my type i meant Boys. in...general."

her voice shakes a little, she's never admitted this out loud before, not even to her girlfriend. but she trusts stan with the nice bone structure and dumb ugly laugh and very kind eyes, so she says

"i'm a...Lesbian.

i'm also Seeing Someone at the moment.

It's Complicated."

and stan is like, skhdlsd way too excited to talk about kyle, and is like

"okay, whew! i'm ALSO seeing someone! or well..." then remembers and is like oooof "well...i Was...seeing someone i guess. it's..."

my man is Depressed and is trying to change the subject because he realizes he actually can't talk about kyle because not only is cartman going to kill him if he does...he is also gonna freakin K!ll Himself because he's actually so sad that kyle currently hates his GUTS.

so he sighs, echoing her and admits "It's...Complicated." :/

he wants to hear something nice though, something real...and nice. because he is a romantico king. who believes more than anything...

in Love.

so he asks her what her girlfriend's name is. <3 :')

annnd i think she is About to say bebe's name...but realizes if she does, it will completely blow her cover.

like her ACTUAL Cover.

because stan knowing her first name and her what she looks like under the mask is one thing...but the second she says bebe's name, it's going to reveal that she is kyle's bebe's wen/wendyl which...is

Meeeeessy.

but she reasons ( as an intelligent, rational queen ) that regardless of how messy things get, her and stan are in this mess together and that the best time to make a mess...is when you are Coming Clean.

still...this is...very sensitive information. she’s not sure how he's gonna take it and needs some sort of collateral.

so she states her terms.

and call girl, who stan now knows is wendy, but not bebe's current girlfriend ( yet ) says "okay. i am going to tell you something, but in order to do it. i have to tell you...Everything. in exchange, i need YOU to tell me Everything. i am going to give you One Chance to do so willingly. if not...i do not care how untraceable you Think you are, i am very familiar with the dark web and i will find out everything i Need to know about you. and do with that information...What. I. Please.

...so /please./ promise me you won't tell anyone about what i am about to tell you...and then, tell me...stan...Something Real."

stan agrees and wendy goes into everything. comes out as trans to him and explains her origin story. ( i started to write everything in this ask but it got too long, i'll tell you all about call girl/wendy in another ask i have a couple in the box i can use, haha. ) she tells him pretty much everything ( it's a big therapy session in there ) up until this point, gaydhd ravenstan...manages to understand

Everything.

and when she finishes, true to the deal, she gently volleys the ball into his court, ( they are friends now, aw <3 ) and softly goes:

"okay...Your Turn."

and so ravenstan...who is Deeply Inspired by wendy...Wowza. he seriously thinks she is so fucking cool and ALSO A TRANS ICON??? HELLO? he feels v seen and heard and safe, so uh...jesus christ, he grabs wendy's hands, takes a veeeeeery deep breath and goes,

"so, i...

— Am DEAD."

LKHDSHSDLKDS HEEELP KSHLKDS

annnnnnd proceeds to tell her everything.

and i do mean...Everything.

they talk for the rest of the night basically, having this heart to heart, at the same time that, unbeknownst to ravenstan, jerseykyle and ike are also having a heart to heart....wendy and stan are platonic besties, they agree to keep each other's secrets as t4t legends stuck in cartman's fucked up marionette hell together, they agree to keep their crazy charade up while they try and find a way out/back to bebe and kyle, take some v convincing publicity pictures together ( i do think jk and bebe see them and want to die So Bad, it's not funny...bebe/jk or wendy/rs...choose your doomed broship. Fml. )

and that's...

Your Crazy Uncle Nina RM Lore Drop For The Night!

i hope you enjoyed it, haha. <3 please feel free to drop me a line in the ole ask box about it and ofc, as always, to ask me anything you would like! if you're still with me...after all this time. thank you so much for supporting me and enjoying my content.

it means...Everything to me.

and in writing something fake...

thank you all:

for being my Something Real. <3 c':

-uncle nina, callgirl/raven superfan

[tvrningout]

guess who very quickly made some icons and is about to ramble : )

[nyerusnova]

sometimes writing is easy and sometimes its like

[very-gay-poet]

I NEED HELP

I HAVE A VERY GOOD BOOK IDEA BUT BEFOORE THAT I NEED TO START WITH THE GENDER OF THE MIAN FUCKING CHARACETR AND I DONT LIKE DECISIONS SO HERE.

THANK YOU AND GOODBYE

edit; I accidently pressed on one of them how do i take it back :(

[newcomernewcums]

seeing that chapter 5 is almost out (so sorry for the wait) why dont we do a little POLL (YAYYYY)

I’ve got ideas swirling around, and i’ll prob end up writing most of these if not mixing them together, but i’d love to know what you guys want in terms of pairings and other AUs n stuff, so please tag it or comment or ask!

Also quick sneak peak to chapter 5 just to make yall less (or maybe more) mad

[anthrokiaera]

Last Line Challenge

rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words. 

fun game @itsyourstarboy!! Ty for the tag Now I don’t really know what you meant by “last thing we wrote” if you mean artistically I am an absolute crap writer But!!! In honor of your new D.a.m.n. Fam fic, here’s something I wrote while travelling a few days earlier to see a friend:))

“Waiting for the boom, listening to how quiet it is, and how loud the flash of lightning...“ yadiyadiya

if you wanted something with more of a silly twist then this was the last thing I sent my friends

“..I’M NICKNAMING KAEYA ‘LILY’”

tags!! apologies in advance if I’m repeating some (No pressure to join if you don’t want to!)@romeo-the-homeo @sincerelywhistler @konnorhasapen @basiliskbrews @dollscircus @angelcactus @friendlyfaded @sienotasir @moonandstarlightsposts

[zeddythehisuiangoodra]

I suddenly got a bunch of followers who have women in bikini's as their pfp and now I'm scared please help.