#quinn on the other hand is generally more optimistic as they have gone through a lot of rough shit and made it out on the other side

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been thinking abt one of my older oni colonies and decided to doodle my first three dupes in that save

[randomfandomfamily]

Made a post a while back about Little Cato’s lack of laughter (basically nonexistent, it’s actually really sad) and I spotted this in the comments:

So yeah.

Guess what I did.

Gary stood and slammed his hands down on the table. “Oh my crap!”

Avocato nearly choked. “What the hell, man?!” He put his cup down and glared up at his friend. “Warn a dude before you do that.”

“Yeah,” Ash said bitterly, her shirt soaked from the glass of water Fox had pretty much thrown when Gary startled him. “Some warning would have been nice.”

Mooncake floated around Gary’s head. “Chookity-pok.”

“Sorry about that,” Gary apologized, “But I just remembered something incredible.”

Quinn leaned forward. “What is it, Gary?”

“The two best jokes I have ever heard in my life,” Gary said seriously.

Sheryl perked up from the corner of the room. “Are they the ones your father used to tell?” Gary’s grin must have been answer enough, because Sheryl settled back against the wall. “Well then, let’s see if you tell them as well as he did, eh?”

Gary sat back down in his chair and cleared his throat. “Okay. Everyone ready?”

Fox bounced in his seat excitedly. “Oh man, I love jokes!” He frowned. “As long as they’re not rascist.” He narrowed his eyes. “It’s not racist, is it?”

“Nope. Not racist,” Gary reassured him. “So, the joke starts with three construction workers, and-”

“Why construction workers?” Ash asked.

“Because bricks,” Gary answered. “They have this big pile of bricks. And they get super bored, right? So they try to see who can throw one of these bricks up the highest. Problem is, the sun’s super bright, and they can’t see whose went the highest.

“But one of the guys gets an idea. The ground all around them is super muddy, so if they throw up in the bricks and land in the mud-”

“Then whoever’s sank deeper won!” Fox exclaimed.

Gary snapped and pointed at Fox. “Bingo. So the first guy throws up his brick. When it comes down it sinks about a foot into the mud.

“The second says, ‘Pfft, I can top that easy!’ and throws up his brick. And when it comes down it sinks three feet into the mud.

“Now this third guy is real confident. He grabs a brick and says, ‘Oh, yeah? Watch this!’ and he throws up his brick.”

Ash paused the slow process of wringing out her hair. “And?”

“And it doesn’t come back down.”

Everyone glanced at each other, smiles tentatively spreading across their faces. Mooncake landed on the table and gazed up at Gary in confusion. “Pok?”

Avocato hummed. “I’m with Mooncake. I’m not sure that was really much of a joke, Gary.”

Gary fought back a devious smile. “Alright, alright, that’s fair. But wait ‘till you hear this next one.

“A woman and her pet parrot-”

“What’s a parrot?” Fox asked.

Quinn patted Gary’s hand. “Not everyone here knows Earthen species of birds, Gary.”

“Oh right. Okay, so a parrot is a super smart bird that can mimic sound. You can even teach them to talk.”

“Whoa…” Fox said. “And she had one for a pet?”

“Right,” Gary confirmed, “And this lady wanted to take her parrot to see her mom. Because her mom loved parrots. There was just one problem: she was going to have to take a plane, and she couldn’t afford any that would allow her to have a pet on board.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Plane?”

“Um…” Gary thought for a moment. “Planes help people get from place to place by flying, but like, inside the atmosphere. Basically, planes are just domesticated spaceships. But anyway, back to the story.

“The only plane she can afford is one that has a bunch of rules. No outside food, no smoking, and worst of all, no pets.

“But she thinks for a while and she decides ‘I could get away with this’. So she sneaks the bird onto the plane by hiding it in her shirt. Everything’s great for a while, the bird is quiet and no one suspects a thing.

“Then the co-pilots comes through, he’s smoking a cigar and greeting people and making sure everyone’s doing okay.”

Fox scowled. “But I thought one of the rules was-”

Sheryl had moved away from the wall and closer to the table. She reached out a hand and patted Fox’s shoulder. “Wait for it, love.”

Gary and Sheryl shared a quick knowing glance before he continued the joke. “So the co-pilot comes through and stops next to her seat. He asks her how her flight’s going and she says everything’s going great.

“Just then, the parrot starts making noise, squawking and talking and just making quiet bird noise in general. The co-pilot gets mad and demands she remove the parrot from her shirt.

“She does, but the guy immediately snatches her bird away.”

“No!” Fox gasped.

“Yes,” Gary said, “And of course she gets mad. She stands up and tells the guy to give her the bird back but he says ‘No, pets aren’t allowed’ so she snatches the cigar out of his mouth and say ‘Cigars aren’t allowed either’.”

“Now the guy is really mad, and he opens up a window, saying ‘You can’t have pets on this plane!’ then he chucks the bird out the window. So the lady retaliates by opening another and window and saying ‘Well you can’t have cigars on this plane!’ and throws it out.

“Now they’re both angry, but they’re also drawing a lot of attention. The co-pilot decides to go back to the cockpit, and he’s all mad and huffy and grumbling to himself.

“But then!” Everyone freezes. “He hears a sound. Something is tapping on the window. He looks out and he sees the lady’s parrot.”

Fox pumped his fist. “Yes! Parrot lives.”

“Chookity!”

“Yep! Parrot lives!” Gary grinned. “And guess what the parrot had in its beak.”

Avocato spoke up. “The cigar?”

“No,” Gary said, “The brick.”

The room went dead silent for about ten seconds. Then a chorus of realization and laughter rang filled the room.

“The brick-”

“Oh my god!”

“Your father told it better, love.”

“You’re biased, Mom.”

“But- but the brick!”

Then another sound rose above the idle chatter and explosive laughter. At first Gary thought maybe they had an intruder on board, because he definitely didn’t recognize the voice he was hearing.

But then he spotted it. The source of the sound.

Little Cato.

Laughing.

Gary tried to remember the last time he had heard Little Cato laugh. And it wasn’t so much that he couldn’t remember, it had just… never happened.

He put his hand on top of Quinn’s head. “Wha-” He turned her so that she was looking at the younger Ventrexian. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Ash caught sight of them staring and glanced around to find what had caught their attention. As soon as she saw the foreign sight of Little Cato’s laughing, she elbowed her brother. He looked annoyed until she pointed.

Little Cato didn’t seem to notice or care that everyone else had gone quiet. He smacked the table, hunched over in his seat and wheezing as he laughed. It sounded like it should have been loud, but it was too raspy to be as hearty as it could have been, almost like Little Cato’s vocal chords were unused to having a laugh pass through them.

Avocato frowned up at Gary. “What?”

Gary shushed him as Little Cato started to come down from his laughing high. “Dad, oh my gosh, that was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.” He jumped up. “I gotta go write that down! I’ll be right back!”

As soon as Little Cato disappeared out of the room, Gary grabbed Quinn by the shoulders. “Holy crap! Did you hear that?!”

Quinn smiled. “Yes, Gary, I heard it.”

“He laughed!” Gary exclaimed. “Oh my crap, he laughed!” 

Fox blinked. “I’m his roommate. I ain’t never heard that before.”

Ash tucked her hair behind her ear. “You know, I never really thought about the fact that Little Cato never laughs. He should do that more often.”

“Strange,” Sherly said thoughtfully, “Sounded like the kid hasn’t laughed in years.”

Avocato stood up. “What the hell are you guys getting so worked up over? He just laughed.”

“Chookity-pok!”

“He’s right!” Gary said. “A very uncommon occurrence! I’ve known him for months now, and I’ve never heard that!”

Avocato blinked. “What do you mean? He’s the happiest kid I know, he laughs all the time.”

“Maybe he used to,” Fox said, “Not anymore.”

“You guys are serious?” Avocato asked. “But… he’s-”

Quinn put her hand on Little Cato’s arm. “Optimistic.”

“Not to mention upbeat,” Sheryl added. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone more excited about a reverse robbery.”

Avocato looked bemused. “A what?”

“Look, ya kid’s not happy, mate,” Sheryl said bluntly, “He’s optimistic and upbeat, but that’s not the same as happy.”

Gary shot her a look. “Mom.”

Sheryl shrugged. “What? I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

“So the whole time I’ve been dead,” Avocato said slowly, “He’s just been… not happy?”

“To be fair, before he was with us, he was with the Lord Commander,” Gary reminded him, “I can’t imagine he’s laughed too much in the past three years. I mean, do you even remember the last time you heard him laugh?”

Avocato hesitated. “I…” He concentrated on the table. “He…” The Ventrexian ended up putting his face in his hands. “When I said I wanted to catch up on what’s been going on with my son, this is not what I had in mind.”

“Pok-pok-pok,” Mooncake interjected. “Chookity-pok.”

Gary smiled. “You’re right, Mooncake. No point in dwelling on the past.” He gave Avocato a friendly punch to the shoulder. “From now on, we make it our personal mission to make sure Little Cato laughs more. Deal?”

“I’m in,” Quinn said.

Ash raised her hand. “Me too. Except I don’t think I’m gonna be very good at it.”

“I’m his roommate,” Fox offered, “I could probably find something that’ll make him laugh.”

Avocato looked around at them. “Looks like my friend made some pretty good friends while I was gone, huh?”

“The best,” Gary agreed. “Now quick, before Little Cato gets back, does anyone know any more jokes?”

[writingpcges]

— "i have a horrible feeling I am a greedy, perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical, depraved, morally bankrupt woman who can’t even call herself a feminist." - fleabag

MANNERISMS:

What words or phrases do they overuse?

she uses the word ‘basically’ a lot. she also definitely overuses her britishisms but that’s mainly because she’d been living there for the last few years. favouite curse word is ‘fuck’. ends too many sentences with the word ‘me’.

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

ellie will tell you she’s a realist, though she does tend towards optimism, particularly when it comes to the outcomes of certain events in her life. 

What bad habits do they have?

speaking before she speaks, drinking way too much coffee (and as a result has developed an unhealthy addiction to breath mints, seriously she’s always gone some on her person!), nail biting/picking (particularly when she’s nervous/bored), flirting before thinking (she’s sure your partner is great, she just didn’t consider their existence), pouting until she gets what she wants.

What makes them laugh out loud?

friends reruns, friends in general, lana sullivan. she’s also the sort to laugh at her friends embarrassments/trip ups but would also be the first to bail you out in a bind so figurers that balances things out. 

How do they display affection?

little touches (on your arm, your shoulder, your lower back), little gifts/things she’s seen that remind her of you, sending random texts/pictures throughout her day, sharing anecdotes/gossip. 

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider?

she’s an impulsive little sun of a gun, just ask lana. she detests feeling stuck and that has driven her to make many questionable decisions and has resulted in the breaking down of some important relationships in her life. 

How do they react to praise?

she THRIVES off of it. like tinkerbell she needs applause and praise to live. 

How do they react to criticism?

she’ll tell you she can take it, and that’s not totally untrue, as an actress she has developed a fairly thick skin but she only really takes constructive criticism well. trolly comments on the internet will send her into a tailspin and often result in her seeking some outside affirmation of her awesomeness (often in the form of hookups or friendly cheerleaders). 

What is their philosophy of life?

work hard and be kind. 

When was the last time they cried?

professionally? daily, her current project requires a lot of mental gymnastics. personally? after meeting up with lana. 

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

apart from forever appearing ageless?? physically she wouldn’t mind being a little taller, but she thinks her face is nice and her ass is good so she happy with her appearance. there are a lot of internal things she’d change about herself but mainly she’d like to be braver and a little more vulnerable about the things that matter with the people she loves. 

What is their obsession?

herself?? sex?? skin care??

What are their pet peeves? 

she does get annoyed easily and pinning down what will set her off from one day to the next isn’t an exact science but some things that never fail are slow walkers, people who talk on their phone in public, traffic (she probs shouldn’t drive bc the road rage is real), and people who insist on continuing conversations when she’s clearly checked out. 

FRIENDS&FAMILY:

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?

pretty small, just her dad, step mum and gran left. 

What is their perception of family?

family used to be everything but after her mum passed ellie hasn’t been super connected to her family, with the exception of her gran who is her favouite person in the whole world. 

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?

she’s an only child, i’m sure this surprises no one. 

Describe their best friend.

the real yin to her yang and the one person she will never put the moves on because it would totally ruin their vibe. also it would be weird because they are basically sisters at this point. if ellie is ever able to sit still long enough to sit and think things through things it is down to this person. big mom friend vibes. 10/10 angel on earth. 

Do they have any pets?

oh god no, she shouldn’t be trusted to care for a living creature. 

PAST&FUTURE:

What was your character like as a teen?

not unlike herself now, which speaks to her emotional maturity but much more moody and reckless, very little regard for the consequences of her actions, and pretty listless/unmotivated. she’s since learned to reel some of that in as she’s focussed on her career. 

Did they grow up rich or poor?

middle class, they were comfortable, but they didn’t go on holiday every school break or anything. 

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?

nurtured, but when she lost her mum she an her dad started to neglect each other. 

What is their greatest achievement?

winning a bafta. 

What was their first kiss like?

awkward and the result of a game of spin the bottle gone wrong -- she’d really wanted to kiss matt jones but instead the bottle had landed on rory tyler. 

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?

LEFT THEM AT THE ALTAR?! 

What are their ambitions?

she’d really like to have a career that lasts past her 35th birthday

What advice would they give their younger self?

hang in there, be kinder to mum, go easier on dad, don’t forget to keep your promises. 

What smells remind them of their childhood?

cinnamon sugar and french toast, mum would make it every sunday. 

What was their childhood ambition?

to be an actress and a unicorn doctor, so she’s definitely lived up to some of her childhood ambitions!

What does their five-year plan look like?

become a house hold name, successfully bake banana bread, take a dance class, learn to play piano, take someone she loves to an awards show. 

LOVE:

Do they believe in love at first sight?

no, not even a little which is funny because she is definitely the sort to fall quickly. 

Are they in a relationship? Are they in love?

no, but she is still in love with her ex so that’s fun. particularly for someone whose default is to seek vey surface level/fun ‘relationships’.

How do they behave in a relationship?

depends on the relationship and the person, honestly. ellie hasn’t been in many serious relationships because she typically bolts at the first sign of feeeelings as she tends to lean towards her need for freedom rather than commitment but on the rare occasion her heart has fallen before her brain was able to catch on she’s been quite happy to hermit with her partner. she becomes so smitten the idea of wanting someone else escapes her completely. 

When did your character last have sex?

probably last night. or this morning. she’s a ho and she doesn’t like to be alone. that’s when things like thinking happen and that’s no good! 

Has your character ever been in love?

yes, twice. and both instances left her gutted. 

Have they ever had their heart broken?

she has, but in the end it’s usually by herself as she has the tendency to leave before she gets left. 

Are they crushing on anyone now? Tag them!

lana (and also probs sabrina lbh): @lauralaword​ , sean: @gapsofsvnlight​ , quinn: @sonderbound​ , and probs pyper: @chvrryglcss​ bc she seems emotionally unavailable and ellie likes a challenge, plus she a babe. guys i said she’s a ho. 

WORK&LIFE:

What is their current job?

actress, she’s also an aspiring screen writer/playwright and director, but that’s mainly born of fear of what she’ll do when the industry decides she’s too old to play a lead

What do they think about their current job?

loves it, a +, everything she’d hoped it be even if the hours are maybe a bit longer than she’d like and she doesn’t always love feeling like she has to hide parts of herself from rabid fans/news sources, but she likes her privacy. 

What are some of their past jobs?

bag girl, ride attendant, bartender (at uni), nanny, waitress, and snow white for a tick!

What are their hobbies?

she likes to read and netflix, but her main hobby is bugging her mates until they entertain her. 

Educational background?

went to the royal academy of dramatic art in london where she studied acting. 

Do they have a natural talent for something?

photography, the written word, charming her way into your pants. 

Do they play a sport? Are they any good?

no, she does not sport well nor does she understand any of the rules. her disdain for football is just another point of contention between her and her father. 

MISC:

What is in their fridge?

a half drank bottle of vodka, seltzer, diet coke, some probiotics she never takes and a variety of take out containers. she does not cook. 

What is on their bedside table?

cellphone charger, a book she’s been trying to finish for ages, and a sound machine. 

What kinda car do they drive, and is their car messy or clean?

honestly she couldn’t tell you the make or model unless she read the manual butt it gets her to auditions and that’s all that matters. it’s basically always got at least three changes of clothes and a takeaway coffee cup and/or wrapper somewhere so if you think that’s messy...  

Do they carry a purse? What is in their purse or wallet?

usually, but if she’s out at retrograde she’ll pair her essentials down to things that can fit in her pocket -- basically that means a lip (red if she’s feeling feisty or insecure), her debit card, her cell and some mints. her purse has at any given time four different lips, a chapstick, some gloss, three packs of gum, mints, a pack of emergency smokes (for when things get intense and she needs to break her clean streak), her wallet, a compact, an umbrella, and so many receipts! 

What is in their pockets?

if she has her purse they’re likely empty, if she doesn’t all the things. also sometimes her hands when she doesn’t know what to do with them. 

What is their most treasured possession? 

her mums wedding band, she wears it basically all the time on her index finger. 

[asarahworld-writes]

A ZOMBIES Christmas Chapter 4

Zed picked at the cheesecake, making small talk with the surrounding cousins, his free hand holding Addison’s.  Never in his life did he think he’d be here – fairly popular in integrated school, having dinner with his human girlfriend’s family, playing football and it being a casual dinnertime conversation.

Maybe he should have known, or at least suspected, that there was still a chance that things could turn south.  But, despite everything, Zed was an optimist.  Dinner had gone well.  Dessert had been smooth.  He’d gotten along with Addison’s relatives.  And Addison had been free to be herself, wig-free, all night.

“EVERYONE GET BACK!  ZOMBIE!”

Zed instinctively jumped back as Mr. Buchanan crept closer, knocking over the stacked folding chairs leaning against the couch.  “Mr. Buchanan, I’ve been here all night.  I came with Addison,” he ducked as the older man wildly swung in his general direction, eyes shining.

“You stay away from my granddaughter, rotter!”

Zed’s mind was racing, his incoherent thoughts rambling through how to reconnect with Mr. Buchanan as a person, and not the monstrous zombiephobe currently in front of him.  He wasn’t sure what had happened to suddenly polarize Mr. Buchanan into seeing him as a zombie and not Addison’s boyfriend.  Try as he might, there was nothing he could say that would change the old man’s mind.  The cheer championship as a revolution had only affected so many humans in Seabrook – the entire town was a cheerleading town, they liked to win, and the zombies hadn’t won cheer.  They had won football, but cheer was the top sport and they had lost.  He was irrevocably and deeply in love with Addison, but he wasn’t being seen as a person.  He was a monster.  At the end of the day, he was still the same sort of monster whom had eaten the older man’s ear.

Addison threw herself between her boyfriend and her grandfather.  “I wasn’t going to come tonight, exactly because of this.  I’d thought, pretty stupidly looking back, that maybe if we were both here, nobody would say anything to our faces.  Because it’s not like anybody in this family has ever been supportive of me being who I am.  But maybe if I had Zed, if I had the one person in this town, the whole world, who supported and loved me unconditionally, it might not be so bad.”

“Even a freak like you is still human, Addison,” Mr. Buchanan said quietly.

Addison scoffed.  “You just threatened my boyfriend, who has been nothing but a perfectly wonderful guest at our Christmas dinner, for no reason except that he’s different.  Well, we’re all different.  Zed is quite possibly the kindest and sweetest person I’ve ever met.  He’s my boyfriend, he’s a zombie, and I love him.  I’ve got freaky white hair.  I’m still human, but even that has always been enough for my own family to turn against me.  If we were all honest with each, I bet everyone in this room has something they’ve been hiding from the rest of the family!”  She exhaled harshly, running a hand through her hair.  “Zed’s not the only monster in this house.”

With that, Addison took Zed by the hand and shakily lead him back to the kitchen.  She pulled him down into a tight embrace, sinking onto the linoleum floor.  “I am so sorry about him,” she murmured.  Zed could hear her voice thicken with emotion, could smell her mind spiking with adrenaline.

“It’s not your fault.”  He wished there was something he could say to make her feel better.  Of course, it always stung whenever he heard people saying things about zombieism, but he had learned to roll with it over the past fifteen years.  Sometimes, most times, it was easier to simply walk away.  “Do you want to go?”

Addison laughed hollowly, though there was no real malice present.  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

Zed shrugged.  “They’re your family.”

There was a light tap on the door and Zed looked up to see one of Addison’s cousins standing in the doorway.

“What do you want, Brandon?”  Addison asked him bitterly, glancing at him before turning back to her boyfriend.

“Grandpa’s mostly calmed down now…  I’m sorry.”  His apology, though genuine, was futile as he was not responsible for his grandfather’s behaviour.  “I think the people most upset right now are Aunt Missy and Uncle Dale.  They always were more obsessed with perfection…. Except maybe Mom and Dad with Bucky’s cheer stuff.”

Addison was quiet, silently considering the sincerity of her cousin’s statement.  Zed was quiet, too, wondering what the next best thing to do would be.  This was exactly the sort of situation that his father had been worried about when he’d made his offer to come out and take them home early.

“Zed,” the zombie looked up as Brandon addressed him by name, “I’ll drive you back to Zombietown myself if you want to leave.  I can’t say anything for the rest of the family, and frankly right now I don’t really want to, but I wouldn’t blame you if you guys left early.”

“Uh, thanks.”  Zed got up from the floor, offering Addison his hand and helping her up.  No matter what happened next, they would still have to go back and face her family before leaving, whether that was at the natural conclusion of Christmas dinner or bailing early with Brandon or calling Zevon.  However, Zed had no idea what that would be.  Despite everything, he was still just a kid who had wanted to spend the holiday with his girlfriend.

Zed’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the time on Addison’s watch.  “Shit,” he cursed lowly, heartrate accelerating to near-human levels.  “I gotta go.  Brandon, I can honestly say it was a pleasure to meet you.  Addy, thank your parents again for the invitation.  Mayor Missy’s cooking was wonderful, as always.”  Addison checked the time, immediately understanding why Zed had hurriedly changed the topic.

Dale entered the kitchen just as his daughter and her boyfriend ran out.

“What’s going on in here?”  He asked Brandon, a little too casually to be entirely sincere.

“Addy and Zed are leaving,” Brandon said bluntly.  “It’s nearly curfew and I’m surprised they stuck around this long, to be honest.”  He caught sight of his cousin and the zombie carefully walking down the stairs to the door.  “Uncle Dale, I’d thought things were changing here.  Tell my parents I’m leaving.  Or don’t.  I don’t think it would make a difference.  See you next Christmas.”

Brandon left his uncle spluttering by himself in the kitchen and started his car, slowly starting towards Zombietown.  He had caught up to his cousin in less than a minute.  “You kids want a ride?”

“Won’t Aunt Becky be seriously mad at you?”  Addison hesitated.

Brandon laughed.  “It’s not like I live there, Addy.  She can be as pissed as she likes.  Doesn’t affect my life.  Where do you kids want to go?”  He unlocked the doors.  He watched his cousin looking at her boyfriend – how her whole face softened as she met his eyes, how they clasped hands as soon as they were settled in the backseat.

Home.  But the associated imagery had nothing to do with the house they had just left.

“The barrier,” she said simply.

“I’m not dropping you kids off in the middle of the street.”  Brandon rolled his eyes.  “What’s your address, Zed?”

Had any other human asked, Zed would have never answered.  But this was the one member of Addison’s family who hadn’t been afraid to treat both of them as regular people.  Zed had begun to trust the human.

“Z-224a.  Right at the end of the last road, by the wall.”  He saw the curtains in Eliza’s window flutter closed as Brandon’s car approached.  It’d be fine.

Brandon pulled up along the driveway, headlights briefly illuminating the block before he killed the engine.

“Where are you going to go?”  Addison asked, still strapped into the backseat.  Zed drew his hand back from where he had reached for the door handle, not having considered what Addison’s cousin would do after leaving Christmas dinner.

“Home.  Away from Seabrook, away from our family.”

“Isn’t that, like, two and a half hours?”

“Four.  We moved upstate to Syracuse a few years back for Quinn’s university.  Med biotech – basically a clinical medical lab technician.  Lots of testing.”

“Quinn.  I haven’t heard about Quinn, before,” Addison looked at her cousin curiously.  “There’s usually some ‘news’ about you whenever Mom and Aunt Becky gossip on the phone.  Not that Mom would ever call it gossip.  She’s ‘sharing in her sister’s concern for her eldest son’.”  Addison rolled her eyes.

“Believe me, my mother has no clue that Quinn even exists.”  Brandon turned around to face them, his knee tucked awkwardly under the gearshift.  “If she did, nobody would ever hear the end of it.  In hushed whispers, of course, but still.”

“I get it,” Addison twirled a strand of her hair.  “I’ve thought about leaving, but…” Her eyes drifted over to Zed.  Out the window, she saw the light strands flicker out.  “Hey, I think your dad knows we’re back.”

Zed glanced out the window.  “Yeah.”

“Not to make things weird, but I should probably go home.  Can’t exactly go back to Syracuse with you, Brandon.  Normally if I need to get away for the night, I’d go see Bree but since it’s Christmas…”

“You can stay here,” Zed quickly offered, before blanching.  “One of us on the couch, obviously.  I’ll give you one of my hoodies…if I have any left,” he grinned.

“You know, this would probably be the part where I should say something, but I think you kids are more responsible than most of the adults in the family.  Especially since you’re not going to be alone.”  Brandon unlocked the doors.

“We should go,” Addison caught her cousin’s eye.  “If Brandon’s going home, he’s got a long drive ahead of him.  Thank you so much.”

There was a pause.  “Yeah,” Brandon said finally.  “Stay in touch, Addy.”  Addison nodded, giving her cousin a quick, one-armed hug from the backseat.

Zed waved his hand as he ducked out of the car, stretching.  “Let’s get inside.”  He took Addison’s hand as they walked to the door, quickly and quietly unlocking it.  They toed out of their shoes, creeping up the stairs to Zed’s room.  Zed grabbed a couple pairs of sweats and tee shirts, leaving one on the bed for Addison as he went into the bathroom.  He knocked lightly a few minutes later, and Addison opened the door.

“I brought you one of Zoey’s hair ties,” he murmured.  “Thought you might want to tie your hair back.”

Addison smiled tiredly.  “Thanks.”  Instead of passing her the hair tie, Zed sat on the bed behind her and quickly braided her hair into a short plait.  When he had finished, Addison leaned back against his chest for a moment before she got up.  Zed watched as she walked over to the chair on the other side of the room, picking up the quilt and pillow.

“Hey, you’re sleeping here.  I’ll take the couch,” Zed took the bedding from his girlfriend, knowing that she would protest.

“Zed,” Addison started, but Zed shook his head.

“I’ll see you in the morning, gorgeous.”  Zed leaned against the doorframe, watching as she thought about pressing.  They were both exhausted from their eventful night.

“Gar gar ga za,” she walked over and hugged him.

“Yeah.  I gar gar ga za you, too.  Grodge garzeep,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

“Grodge garzeep,” she repeated sleepily, watching as he left.  She waited until she heard him settle on the couch before pulling back the sheets.  Everything smelled like Zed, and she pulled the sheet tighter, sighing happily.  There would be consequences to deal with in the morning, but right now, they were together and they were safe.

[mojave-misfit]

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

original by @belomihelps

taken from beth kinderman and nikki walker’s the 100 most important things to know about your character. a good list to help develop a character’s background, personality, and general aspects.

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name?  Charles Merle Quinn

Where and when were you born? Boston Massachusetts, October 13, 2050

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.) Mother: Carmilla Quinn nee’ Merle. Occupation: None, Personality: Easily agitated, kind, and somber, Father: Malcolm Quinn. Occupation: Photographer, Manager. Personality: Distant, Workaholic, Kind

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? No

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. I live in Red Rocket Truck Stop with two robots, Ada and Winston, and Dogmeat. 

What is your occupation? Railroad Agent, Mercenary, and General of the Minutemen

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. 5′7″, 145 lbs., Caucasian and Pale, Jet Black Hair, Pale Blue eyes, Whatever isn’t too bloody, scar on lip and right eyebrow.  

To which social class do you belong? The living one

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? Easily tired

Are you right- or left-handed? Right-Handed

What does your voice sound like? (see Male Sole Survivor voice on YouTube)

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? Sorry

What do you have in your pockets? Candy and a knife

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? Always picks up random things to build with, always having to have 5 packs of fancy lads snack cakes on hand, and never throwing away nuka cola of any variety. 

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? Lonely. 

What is your earliest memory? Meeting my mother at 5 years old. 

How much schooling have you had? Bachelors Degree in Engineering

Did you enjoy school? No

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? Military

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. I always looked up to detectives. Basically anyone willing to provide justice to the world. 

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? I didn’t have any other family other than my mother and father. The neighbors kept me whenever my dad was gone and passed me around like potato chips. 

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be James Bond. 

As a child, what were your favorite activities? Petting cats and Reading

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? Quiet, Pyromanic, and Loner

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? No. I had a cat. That was it. 

When and with whom was your first kiss? It was Nora on December 24, 2066

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? No, I lost my virginity on my wedding night on...August 25, 2072. 

If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. Military training and the genuine will to live?...and my desire to avenge Nora and raise Shaun in peace. 

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? Shaun being born. 

Who has had the most influence on you? My mother. 

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Being alive. 

What is your greatest regret? Er...I try not to regret much. I guess..Never saying goodbye to my mother. 

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? Other than killing a man for a pair of ugly sunglasses or burning my home down? Not sure. 

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? I set a man and then a house on fire. 

When was the time you were the most frightened? When I was seven and my mother tried to strangle me. 

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? Existing

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? I would live happily with my mother and father. That was my only wish as a child. 

What is your best memory? Either marrying Nora, Shaun being born, or meeting Hancock.

What is your worst memory? See most frightened above. 

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Realistic

What is your greatest fear? Another apocalypse

What are your religious views? Christian views, but I’m not very religious in general

What are your political views? Government in general holds too much power over people and too many corrupted individuals have held that power. 

What are your views on sex? *turns red* Er...well....only the 18 and consenting. 

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? *gestures to wasteland with a raised eyebrow*

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Enslave others

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? Depends on how hopeful and/or drunk I am. 

What do you believe makes a successful life? Good friends, family, good food and drinks, and an unholy amount of turrets

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? Depends on who I am around. I’m a fairly honest person, but I can hide emotions when needed. I am who I need to be. 

Do you have any biases or prejudices? Dogs are always better than people. 

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? Enslave another person. Everyone should be able to decide how to live their own lives. 

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? I’d die for the Railroad’s goal and for the people I care about. 

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? I treat everyone with polite distance at first. If they are rude to me, I tend to be even more distant. If they are nice, I’m less so. 

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? Shaun. He’s my son. 

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? I respect Nick Valentine the most. He is just a genuinely nice person when he has every reason not to be. 

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. Rosa Stellata: Wonderful, Crazy, and Kind. Deacon: Sneaky Egg, Sad. Cait: Irish, Tougher than nails, Will kill you, Sad. Glory: Glorious, enough said. Drinking Buddy: He gives me Ice Cold Nuka-Cola I love him. Nick: Cool Synth Detective, Not a dick. Hancock: Perfect, Handsome, Funny, *goes on for about an hour*

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. Nora was my wife. She was..wonderful, smart, beautiful, kind, and strong. Hancock..*blushes* He’s a force of nature. I’ve never met anyone who made me so happy to simply be alive. 

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. Yeah. I've been in love with two people: Nora Cunningham, and John Hancock. Nora is in a better place, and John and I are still together.

What do you look for in a potential lover? Expressive eyes, a kind heart, and natural confidence. 

How close are you to your family? I was very close to Nora and Shaun. My parents? Much less so. 

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? Yeah...Nora was my wife. I already described her, so...My son is an innocent child.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? No one. I don’t want to be a burden. 

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? Whoever I’m traveling with. 

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? I hope no one will, but maybe the rest of the Railroad and Hancock, at least a bit. 

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? The raiders at Nuka-World. They enslaved so many people...and that is something I can't forgive.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? I avoid conflict when I can. 

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? No, but sometimes it just happens. 

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? No. too many people working for the same thing is dangerous. 

Do you care what others think of you? To a certain degree. 

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? I still love reading and petting animals. 

What is your most treasured possession? My wedding ring. 

What is your favorite color? Blue

What is your favorite food? Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. 

What, if anything, do you like to read? Magazines, books, blueprints, etc. 

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? Watching other people try to kill things, reading, exploring, burning things, and the Red Menace game. 

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? I take med-x and psycho in emergencies and drink Nuka-Cola Dark on occasion. I have no desire to quit as I want to live a little on both occasions. 

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? Sorting through weapons, ammo, armor, and/or supplies. 

What makes you laugh? Something funny. 

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Entitled people who think they are better than others due to money or status. 

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? Red Menace or rereading magazines

How do you deal with stress? Holotapes. 

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? Spontaneous

What are your pet peeves? Everything has to be sorted into a certain container and I have to have 5 snack cakes with me at all times. 

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? Check ammo supply, go kill things, go kill more things, sell extra ammo and get usual ammo type, repeat until tired. Interruptions are welcome. 

What is your greatest strength as a person? Being okay with violence

What is your greatest weakness? Everything else

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I would forget a lot of things. 

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? Introverted

Are you generally organized or messy? messily organized

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. Good: Building things, Modding weapons/armor, Shooting things. Bad: Explosives, killing mirelurk queens, dealing with people. 

Do you like yourself? No

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…) I want to help people. I want to see others happy. 

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? Destroying the Institute, Marry Hancock, and see Shaun grow up to be smart and kind. 

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Hopefully alive. 

If you could choose, how would you want to die? *shrugs* Burn to death? 

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. Spend the day with Hancock, say goodbye to the Railroad, and bury Nora. 

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? Being a decent person/father. 

What three words best describe your personality? odd, shy, and kind

What three words would others probably use to describe you? odd, shy, and kind

If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…) (Forgive him.)

((Edit: Minor changes.))

[acuppellarp]

We’re excited to announce that Wen has decided to level up Olivia Smith-Parker from a mumu minor character to a main character! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Wen, she/her Age: Pepperidge Farms Timezone: GMT+1 Ships: Olive/Chemistry Anti-Ships: Olive/Forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Olivia Jane Smith-Parker Face Claim: Daisy Ridley Age/Birthday: 26, September 8 Occupation: ASPCA vet Personality:  generous, sensitive, optimistic, stubborn, nurturing, idealist Hometown: Liverpool, England Bio:

Olivia Smith was born an old soul. That’s what her mum said when she first looked into Olive’s eyes, anyway. And her dad, who’s always been more of a realist, said all newborns do resemble Winston Churchill somewhat, but that didn’t mean their baby girl was really old, did it? Of course, he eventually realized just what his wife had been talking about.

Olivia was never really your typical carefree little girl. That’s not to say she wasn’t happy, because she very much was. She loved life. She seemed to be perpetually smiling, and her glass was always, always half full. She just happened to care about everything more than most kids her age did. She cared about really big things like war and hunger and the fact that people were suffering all over the world. She cared about slightly less big things like animals without homes and people in hospitals. She cared about everything she perceived as unfair right down to things as tiny as someone squashing a spider instead of just putting it outside. And she didn’t just care. She wanted to help.

Her allowance lasted exactly as long as it took her to run into someone begging in the street, or see a collection box for some cause or another. She gave bits of her lunch to the pigeons, the feral cats along the way to school, and even made sure to leave some crumbs out for the ants. She was horrified to find out where meat came from, and promptly became a vegetarian at the tender age of seven. And she stood up for those she thought couldn’t stand up for themselves. Which, as mentioned, included everyone from refugees in war-torn countries to ants her classmates carelessly stepped on. Her dad’s decision to send her to martial arts classes stemmed directly from her fear that her relentless “activism” would inevitably get her arse kicked at some point or another. It was very much a good call on his part.

The first big change in Olivia’s life came when she was thirteen and she lost her mum. It was an accident - nothing anyone could’ve seen coming or done anything to prevent. And old soul or not, thirteen was far too young to deal with the concept of random tragedy. There was no volunteer organization or charity fund or even research team that could’ve been supported so they’d find a way to fix something like that. You can’t stand up to dumb luck and shame it for being unfair. You can’t go out on the street and collect signatures to make stupid random accidents illegal. Faced for the first time in her life with an evil she could do absolutely nothing to fight, Olive chose to focus on what she could do instead. What didn’t make her feel useless. And that was doing what she did best: caring for others.

By the time she turned fourteen, Olive had become the person who kept their family running. Her dad was far too heartbroken himself to fight his younger daughter’s near-obsessive dedication to the family, and he was far more worried about Bea’s detachment from him than about whatever benign phase Olive seemed to be going through. Olive cooked and cleaned, made detailed shopping lists for her dad to follow, handled laundry and ironed shirts to perfection, and tried (and failed, she always suspected) to give her dad and sister all the love they were missing out on with her mum gone. And when Bea announced she was moving to the States for college? Well. Olivia more than supported her dad’s decision to follow her. Dumb luck might be able to tear her family apart, but a transatlantic move certainly could not.

Adapting to life in America was mostly easy for Olive. It was just herself and her dad now, and her life remained the same. She just had to take care of one less person now, with Bea away at college (which didn’t mean she didn’t send regular care packages to her sister, of course). Her own move to college was a little harder, mostly because she felt like she had to stay home and help her dad, but he made it clear her choices were college or moving out on her own. Having always been a brilliant student, Olivia didn’t have much trouble getting accepted at the college of her choice, and at eighteen, she finally moved into her dorm and found herself on her own for the first time in her life.

That didn’t last long.

Olive met Ben Parker her first week on campus, when she was walking home after an evening spent discussing the evils of capitalism and how to bring it down with one of the many student associations she’d joined in those seven days. Ben always said he knew she was the love of his life the second she looked at his brand new Hummer (his pride and joy, he said, and his secret weapon to get more girls than he knew what to do with) and asked him if he’d rather have a flier on capitalism or global warming. He chose both. And he biked to class the next day.

Olive could never pinpoint the moment she knew Ben was the love of her life, but she did. Soon. So soon, in fact, that they got engaged that first Christmas break. Everyone around them was more than a little horrified by the news: Olive’s dad thought she was far too young, Bea that she was positively insane for even considering marriage in the first place, and Ben’s parents that the heir to a Texan oil empire could do better than a vegetarian commie with an accent (their words, but she decided she wanted them on her headstone). The wedding was going to be in the Summer after her freshman year and his graduation, but they eloped during spring break, and they both hyphenated their last names. Which was the reason Ben found himself no longer the heir to a Texan oil empire. Not that Ben Smith-Parker and his acceptance letter to a Masters in Sustainable Architecture program cared too much about that.

Olivia’s second encounter with the cruelest version of dumb luck came that summer, a couple of weeks before the party they were going to throw in lieu of an actual wedding. It was once again an accident - nobody’s fault, no way to prevent it - and this time she lost Ben. Her usual coping mechanism failed her this time, since she had no one to take care of, and Olive spent the better part of a month trying in vain to find a reason to get out of bed each day. Eventually, she found it: if life was going to be a bully, she was going to deal with it like she did in her primary school years. She was going to stand up to it and fight.

Olivia decided right then and there to spend her life trying to make the world a better place. She went back to school that fall and joined even more associations, marched for even more worthy causes, handed out even more fliers and put in even more hours at her volunteer jobs. And it was one of those volunteer jobs that made her want to become a vet.

It’s been several years now, and Olive works at NYC’s ASPCA hospital. Her heart’s healed, she thinks - Ben will always be the love of her life, but that doesn’t mean she can’t ever love again. Maybe the Universe will make up for its past unfairness by letting her have two loves of her life. She’s open to it, at least, which is a big step. And until she finds that person? Well, she has her job, her many causes, and her sister to focus on.

Pets: Many or none, depending on how you define it. She’s a prolific foster pet parent, and there are never fewer than four dogs and/or cats in her and Bea’s apartment at any given time. She hasn’t adopted any of them (so far), though, so they aren’t technically hers.

Relationships:

Bea Smith: Olive’s older sister and the person she loves the most in the entire world. Although Olive’s always acted as the older sibling, and to this day she tends to be the one taking on the more adult role in their relationship, she admires her sister like only a younger sibling ever could. If you ask her, there’s nothing Bea can’t do, and the only reason she isn’t a star is that the world hasn’t discovered yet.

Rachel Berry: Rachel often volunteers with the animals at the shelter - she walks them and loves on them, and that automatically makes her one of Olive’s favorite people. She also has to admit, for someone who’s always been hopelessly low on the social hierarchy, having a drummer friend adds a coolness factor she’s not immune to.

Evie Miller: Olive and Evie met at ACup, but the second Evie found out about Olive’s work, visiting the shelter with Kay to make the less fortunate pups happy for a while became a near-weekly ritual. Olive considers Evie one of her best friends, and she may or may not feel something resembling a crush type situation for her, but she’s aware it’s very much one-sided, and has no intention to jeopardize their friendship for it.

Sam Evans: Sam loves cats, and Olive loves people who love cats. Especially ones who walk the walk and don’t just talk the talk - and Sam did just that when she convinced Quinn to adopt one of Olive’s littlest patients. Gertie’s well kitten visits are some of Olive’s favorite times at work.

EXTRA INFO

Twitter name/twitter URL/description: Olive S-P @oliveandletlive crocheto ergo sum.

Five latest tweets:

@oliveandletlive not to toot my own horn, but if there were pullitzers for the blurbs under adoptable pets’ names on shelter websites, i’d win #toottoot @oliveandletlive would adding an ‘xs’ tag to my friend’s home-crocheted willy warmer be in poor taste? #petite @oliveandletlive your oreos are great, america, but until you start selling jammie dodgers the uk’s biscuit aisles will always win. @oliveandletlive THERE IS A VERY TINY KITTEN IN MY SCRUBS’ POCKET @oliveandletlive update: her name is hortense and she needs a home that’s not my pocket. pass it on! she’ll be good to go in 3 more weeks.

[404botnotfound]

The Line [2]

...and where to draw it.

SERIES: Destiny WORD COUNT: 6,335 SHIP: Quinn/Drifter CHARACTERS: quinn leonis (AU), glyph, nikon, leilani, roland

ii. pigeon

n. (in gambling) someone new to the game; someone who may be generally considered unsophisticated, naïve, or ‘easy prey’ by more experienced gamblers.

For the first time in weeks Quinn finds herself filled with more restless energy than the aimless numb she’d felt since returning from the Reef.

It wasn’t nearly enough to beat out the energy by wandering the same Tower scenery she’d been stumbling about within already; in the few days since meeting the Drifter she’d already walked the main plazas and what areas weren’t restricted to working personnel only three times over, and so she makes her way down to the City to expand her wandering there.

It’s around noon when she steps off the elevator on the ground floor and makes her way through the Tower’s logistics and out into the sunlit streets of a City still rebuilding in the wake of the war they’d won.

Everything was slowly returning to normal for everyone else—colorful banners and paints were going back up, open shops and stalls were attracting business, and as she walks a pair of kids run by giggling, chasing after a colorful ball.

Inexplicably she swears she’s seen a ball like that show up in the Tower before. Probably some of the Hunters trying to fry Zavala’s last nerve in an attempt to get him to lighten up.

She’s pretty sure Mercury would sooner freeze over.

In her five years since joining the guardians in the Tower she’s seen more of the City and visited it more frequently than ever before in recent days, and while she still doesn’t know the paths and streets nearly as well as she knows every inch of the Hub, there are still a few places she recognizes, a few paths that she recognizes and follows with idle steps until Glyph guides her back into the main thoroughfares.

She appreciates the effort it’s putting into keep her from focusing on things she doesn’t want to focus on.

Thankfully, the wait for whatever purpose the jade coin she’d received from the Drifter served was doing a well enough job on its own, which was why she was now killing time rather than just wasting it.

She’d rather be spending it by seeking vengeance, but, well—beggars couldn’t be choosers. At least she’s looking forward to something, right? That had to be a step in the right direction.

“Quinn!”

Her footsteps halt at the sound of her own name on the air and she wheels around, struggling to catch sight of whoever was calling her name considering she was nearly a head shorter than everyone else around even with the modest wedges on her boots. The voice sounded familiar.

“Quinn!!” The voice—younger and feminine—calls to her again, louder this time. “Over here!”

Finally she catches sight of a sign she recognizes and she has to fight to keep her heart from sinking. The Tipsy Sparrow—a modest little bar located near the base of the original Vanguard Tower, owned and operated by a crotchety old Titan named Darin-8 that had retired some years back after his ghost was destroyed. An old friend of Cayde’s.

Along with plenty of other guardians. The bar certainly hadn’t ever had a shortage of crowds in the time since Cayde had first taken her there.

It had been their favorite haunt whenever he had managed to slip away from Vanguard duties.

She stares up at the weakly flickering neon sign hanging above the bar’s entrance; the place must have taken some kind of a hit in the Red Legion assault and was still a work in progress considering Darin had once hauled Cayde up by the cloak and carried him back outside just for tracking rain-muddied boot prints into the bar. She couldn't ever see him tolerating his place looking like it was at the moment.

A quick blink as she realizes she’d stopped for a reason and Quinn refocuses on the person that had called her name, finding Leilani standing on the landing of the bar in a warm overcoat, brightly smiling and waving her over. Nikon, Quinn's fireteam leader, treated Leilani like a little sister—consequently, she’d promptly adopted the entire rest of the fireteam as her own older siblings regardless of their thoughts on the matter.

Quinn had almost forgotten that Cayde had gotten her the job here after she’d showed up in the Tower with a near-dead Nikon after their home outside the walls had been invaded and razed to the ground.

Swallowing down the sudden stone in her throat she crosses the street in Leilani’s direction, definitely not ready for more conversation, let alone the kind of endlessly optimistic ones Leilani had become well-known for, but not at all willing to snub her. Breaking the girl’s heart or hurting her in any way seemed tantamount to sacrilegious.

Even after losing her home, everyone she’d known since she was a child, and nearly losing her guardian, her spirit was as infallible as Luke’s was, and Quinn envied that. While she wasn’t—or hadn’t been—shy with her own positive attitude, she was willing to admit she’d been decidedly more cynical than she imagines she once was before coming out of stasis.

Quinn wasn’t going to be the reason Leilani lost that stride.

“I haven’t seen you in a while!” Leilani says as she approaches, briefly adjusting the thick scarf around her neck and stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets. Her shift must not have started if she was still wearing both, and judging by the visible flush on her darker skin she’d arrived early. “Nik said you’d been feeling a bit down, though, so I understand.”

‘A bit down’ was an understatement, but she doesn’t imagine Nikon wants to go around speaking on her behalf, much less when she’s willing to admit that she’s never felt this down in any of the years she’s been active in this world. “It’s been…rough, yeah.”

“Tough missions? Everyone says the war’s done and we’re all safe, but I doubt beating the Red Legion stopped any of the other assholes that want us wiped out. Seems like guardians’ jobs are never done, huh?” She bounces on her heels, eyes going to the sky and narrowing at the slowly growing cloud cover.

“It’s mostly housekeeping.” Quinn replies, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone as she thinks again of the Prison of Elders. That had been a simple housekeeping mission, and look what happened.

Leilani, observant as she was, picks up on it and turns her narrowed gaze over her. “That’s a good thing, right? Means we’re winning.”

“That kind of thinking is dangerous, ‘Lani.” Both Quinn and the younger girl turn at the new voice, the lilted accent announcing Nikon before they even see him. The Titan steps up to them and crosses his arms, leather jacket creaking with the motion. It was always odd seeing him out of his armor, though not even the lighter clothes could do much to diminish just how big he was.

Leilani sticks her tongue out at his chastisement but doesn’t argue the point. “I’m just saying, it’d be nice to imagine we’ve got the bad guys running for once.”

“It’s not as simple as ‘good’ versus ‘bad’, and you know that.”

Nikon’s ghost—Ion—materializes over his shoulder, white and red facets sparkling in the afternoon sun; a moment later Glyph appears as well, and both of them flit off to the side, holding a conversation of their own in light chirps and beeps.

Her brow furrows, watching them and wondering if it’s only her that can’t understand them, considering Glyph wasn’t by traditional definition, her ghost. She can’t recall if she’s ever heard another guardian cut into a ghost’s conversation as though they understood the little creatures’ language just fine.

“Quinn.”

Her focus snaps back to her present company and she looks up at Nik, not sure if she should feel apologetic for the lapse in attention since he was well, well aware of the current state of her mental health. He looks concerned—as well as like he’s trying very hard not to look concerned in an attempt to keep Leilani from questioning her moodiness too much. “What?”

“How are you?” He asks patiently.

Mouth opening, she starts to say she’s doing just fine, but notices both Glyph and Ion were staring at her and she quickly rethinks the blatant lie. “I’m…tired.” Is what she says instead. It’s not a lie, in any case, but it certainly doesn’t do a good job at even scratching the surface.

Nik doesn’t miss the quick redirect but he opts to not comment on it, glancing at Leilani and frowning at the way she was squinting at Quinn. “Take the time you need,” he says, “I’ll talk to Zavala about getting you back into active duty once you’re feeling better.”

She stifles a bitter laugh; good relations with Zavala or not, Quinn’s not sure that Zavala was bound to rescind her grounding anytime soon, not the least reason being the kind of unkind things she’d spat at him after he’d forbidden retaliation against Uldren.

Nikon had had to physically haul her out of the room and it had taken him reminding her, in that sometimes infuriatingly patient way he was so good at, that Zavala cared as much about losing Cayde as the rest of them. It had ebbed her fury enough to drop it, but she still hadn’t gone back in to say her final goodbye to Cayde until Zavala had left.

She’d never been on the greatest terms with him, her sense of humor and general risk-taking, impulsive attitude clashing with his no-nonsense one far too much to allow anything but a distant working relationship to form, but she’d never actively despised the man until now.

“I appreciate it, Nik.” She says after a thick silence.

Leilani glances between the two of them, clearly aware that something was up and trying to figure out if she should dig her fingers into the muck to find out what it was. Girl was way too smart for her own good, sometimes. All Quinn can hope is that Nikon won’t cave in if she does push for answers with how wrapped around her fingers he was.

Eventually Leilani shrugs and a beaming grin that threatens to improve Quinn’s mood all on its own replaces the suspicious look in her eyes. “Well, whatever’s going on, you and Cayde need to stop down here again soon. It’s been a while since Darin and I have seen either of you.”

Whatever warmth Quinn had begun to feel washes away with a sudden rising tide. The ill feeling of cold numbness returns.

Nikon grimaces, lifting a hand to scratch at his beard in discomfort. “We’re gonna let you get ready for work, ‘Lani. We’ve got mission stuff to go over.” He smiles when she blows raspberries at him, reaching over and ruffling her straight, black hair as he steps past her, off the patio and into the street with Ion flitting after him. “You’re almost twenty-two,” he calls back over his shoulder, “act like it!”

“You don’t age, you don’t get a say!” She calls back with a laugh, smiling at Quinn one more time and waving, telling her a quick goodbye and come visit again soon before heading into the bar.

Quinn follows after Nikon only after she realizes he’s standing in the street waiting for her.

Truthfully, after that discussion she’s filled up her social quota for the day. She had been hoping he’d just been saying they had things to discuss as a way for her to back out and get away from the painful reminder of what she had lost. “Not really many things mission-wise to talk about, boss,” she says, her voice empty even to her own ears, “I’m pretty sure I’m still grounded.”

“You’re not yourself right now, Quinn,” He says as they walk, stepping around civilians and easily clearing a path through the crowds; most people just moved out of his way anyway between his height and general commanding presence. “You’re in pain, and no one can fault you for that. But it’s not giving you the most rational mind.”

“I’m perfectly fucking rational.” She mutters, trailing slightly behind Nikon to let him do the work of pathfinding.

Glyph, of course, chooses that moment to interject its own thoughts. “You really aren’t. I still think we should tell—”

“Glyph, don’t.”

“Tell what?” Nik asks, stopping abruptly and nearly causing her to bump into him. His tone isn’t sharp, but there’s an edge to it that still makes her wince. When she looks away from Glyph she sees him watching her with a careful expression. Focused and guarded and calculating all at once.

Nikon may have been more of a lax, charismatic kind of leader than Gil, but he was no less a leader—and right now, he was trying to make an assessment on how much of a problem one of his team members was going to be.

Or, worse, how much of a threat.

She swallows thickly at the thought. She’d never intentionally harm her team or the City, but maybe that was the problem. Intention.

She shakes her head and fights the wave of exhaustion at war with her frustration and laments the loss of the simple, easy to deal with restlessness she’d still be feeling if she hadn’t run into Nik and Leilani. “I’m just getting stir-crazy, Nik. Being stuck here is leaving me time to think, and…”

She trails off with a vague, aggravated gesture, but Nikon understands her meaning. “Thinking isn’t something you want right now.”

“I need to be doing something.” She confirms, but again wonders if doing Vanguard housecleaning was the kind of something that would help.

“I can’t vouch for you getting back into fieldwork when you’re still all over the place like this.”

“I’m not—” Her mouth closes before she can let the indignant response leave; her agitation isn’t on Nikon, and he, like the rest of her team, like Glyph, doesn’t deserve having the furious storm inside her head turned on him. Fishing for words for a handful of moments, she eventually lifts her arms in an angry shrug. “I don’t know what I’m asking for, Nik, I just know doing nothing but sitting around and dwelling on it…it’s not helping.”

He doesn’t respond. How can he when he knows as well as she does that nothing was going to help her until she could figure out how to help herself? She was lost in a storm of herself without a rudder, stuck between a rock and a hard place, head versus heart, grief and anger at war and tearing her in two different directions.

A part of her wants to accept what happened, put Uldren from her mind and move on, and she knows that’s what she should do because she knew damn well that Zavala’s fears were founded—but it was the very silent minority compared to the other part that was screaming for retribution. Where the hell did she find balance in between those two?

She couldn’t pick one without abandoning the other, and she knew she wasn’t in any place to be able to reconcile that decision.

Exhaling heavily, Quinn moves forward, running her fingers through her hair and then continuing on past him. “Maybe Hawthorne can tell me of a few holes in the wall to slip through.” Her tone is dry.

“Quinn.”

She doesn’t stop to acknowledge whatever discouragement he wanted to give her. “I know, Nik.”

Glyph drifts along over her shoulder quietly, but it hadn’t ever been very good at holding its thoughts in for too long and Quinn isn’t surprised when it does speak up. “You really shouldn’t be shutting your team out like this.”

“I’m not shutting them out.” She says.

“Sure,” It replies, synthesized voice as dry as her own had been a moment ago, “that’s why you’re spending most of your time hiding, avoiding the apartment, sleeping, or making sure any conversations last less than fifteen minutes. And now—and now—you’re keeping secrets and planning on participating in something illegal!”

The latter half of its statement is nearly a hiss. She doesn’t respond.

Undeterred, Glyph speeds up to dart right in front of her face and force her to stop walking, facets twirling and shifting wildly as it spoke; for such a tiny creature, it could be terribly expressive. “Look, I’m not saying you can’t be upset or angry, but Nik is right. You’re not thinking clearly! Cayde wouldn’t want you to—”

Something black grips at her chest and she struggles to smother it before unleashing it full force on Glyph. Expression pinching, Quinn reaches up and with careful restraint gently pushes Glyph aside so she can continue walking. “I’m not your guardian, Glyph. If you don’t like what I’m doing, you’re free to leave.”

She regrets the statement the moment it leaves her mouth, able to feel how much it hurt Glyph without even having to see its reaction. Maybe, despite the fact she had never been risen by it and it wasn’t technically her ghost, spending so much time with it merged with her light and performing as hers anyway had formed a semi-typical symbiotic relationship.

Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Glyph could feel what she was feeling, if the reverse was true.

It doesn’t speak after that, silently dematting and merging with her light.

And now she feels awful. Again. And it’s her own Goddamned fault.

In the span of a few hours she’s gone from waking from a restless sleep to wandering restlessly, despairing at memories she hadn’t expected to surface thanks to her idle feet, frustration, and now this: self-loathing at its most vitriolic.

She’d never expected to understand the metaphor of a raincloud hovering over someone during poor moods, but right then she understood it perfectly and her raincloud was a gale of emotions leaving her holding on for dear life.

It’s barely three in the afternoon and Quinn already wants to just go back to bed.

Her poor mood is so pervasive that many of the people around avoid her as she continues her meandering. She’s left hoping desperately that whatever signal that jade coin was supposed to get came through soon, because though she’s looking frantically for some kind of distraction in the City she’s failing miserably.

Something small and solid materializes in the palm of her hand and nearly startles her out of her steady pace, and when she lifts it up and opens her hand she sees the very same coin sitting there. Glyph hadn’t said a word, still, but maybe it had anticipated the way the soft weight of the coin would ground her.

Stupid.

Of all the things to root her emotions and steady her mood, it was a stupid piece of currency tied to some weirdo she couldn’t make heads or tails of and something unknown and potentially dangerous.

She lifts her eyes to the towering skyscrapers of the City as people move around her, idly thumbing the coin and twisting it within her palm. What was she doing? It was still a recurring question and she still didn’t have an answer to it.

Fuck, she hated feeling so lost.

“I’m sorry, Glyph.” She finally says, quietly, glancing down at the coin again before resuming her fruitless journeying. “More than that, I’m sorry I keep needing to say sorry.”

She knows Glyph hears her, but it says nothing and remains silent all throughout the rest of her trip through the City, even choosing to ignore her entirely when she asks for its help in finding her way back to the Tower.

Twilight descends by the time she manages to find a familiar landmark and veer herself in the correct direction, stepping into the dying bustle of regular Tower activity and heading for the elevator up to the Hub. Her fidgeting with the coin in her hand has been an all but permanent motion for nearly an hour and all she felt was miserable.

She steps off the elevator onto the rear deck of the Hub, between the main plaza and the hangar, and as she turns to head for the bazaar and attached apartment blocks Glyph finally chooses to speak up.

‘I’m getting an encrypted signal, sent to the transponder in the coin. It’s got some coordinates I guess we’re supposed to go to.’ It’s voice is completely devoid of its usual color.

Quinn hates herself for the way her initial, painful pang of regret is immediately swept away by the feeling of being re-energized, pushing away the bone-deep exhaustion her own emotional roller-coaster had left her with.

She turns on her heels and heads for the hangar instead.

“Where are they?” She asks, practically hopping down the steps into the hangar in her speed.

‘Looks like a geosynchronous orbit over Nessus.’ Glyph responds, letting out a series of electronic blips. ‘That’s airspace owned by the Cabal. Usually guardian ships just slip through the network, in and out, no hovering. We don’t have anything that can fight their ships—nothing that Arach Jalaal is willing to spare, anyway.’

She opts not to muse on the subject; it’s possible that airspace wasn’t as airtight as it had been prior to Ghaul’s defeat, especially with the Vanguard’s continued decimation of Red Legion operations.

Her footsteps halt abruptly, eyes fixated on the Frame in control of Tower traffic. It was tapped into any Vanguard policy and general orders, which meant…damn, she had almost forgotten Zavala had put a ground lock on her ship ident.

How did she get around that? Could she get around that?

With an initially hesitant step Quinn changes course and heads for Amanda’s repair station, the same disassembled and in-progress sparrow from the other day hooked up and being worked on, sparks flying from its metal frame as Amanda worked.

Halfway there she stops again.

Amanda and Zavala were decently close, now that she thought about it; she’d heard a story at some point that Zavala had rescued her as a child. Whether the story was bullshit or not, it meant a possibility that if she went through Amanda to get around her lockdown, it might get back to Zavala.

Damnit.

The coin in her fingers twists rapidly as she thinks, then stills, two of her fingers curled around the coin and the other two lifting to tap at the earpiece she usually opted to wear rather than a helmet. “Glyph, can you comm Roland for me?”

‘What for?’

“Please?”

Silence answers her, but after a pause Glyph gives her a beep of confirmation as the comm line comes to life.

“Yeah, what?” Roland says.

She pays no mind to the irritated tone of his voice; she was perhaps the only person on the team that he didn’t mind speaking to, given she was the only one that trusted him completely and wasn’t, well, Luke, so she knows it’s just his usual crabby demeanor. “Listen, can I ask a favor?”

A beat of silence. “What is it?”

“I’m going stir-crazy, Roland,” she says, and though she’s leaving out the real reason for why she’s asking, it is still a half-truth, “and Zavala’s got my ship on lockdown. Can I borrow yours to just…go somewhere for a few hours?”

Another silence, this time long enough that her stomach twists with dejected anxiety.

“I’ll have Ghost give you the flight key. Don’t get yourself killed, you hear me? I want my ship back.” He says, finally, and she withholds her heavy exhale of relief. He sounded aggravated, but the demand was about as close to an indication that he gave a damn about her well-being as she was going to get.

“Thank you.” She replies, not even needing to fake the sincere gratitude in her voice. Even if she weren’t about to find out what this Gambit business was, just the ability to leave the City walls and breathe for a while was enough for her.

“No problem.” The line cuts off awkwardly after his response. He wasn’t great at good-byes, but he was worse at heartfelt emotion.

Turning, Quinn moves for the traffic controller again. Glyph lets her know its got Roland’s flight key just as she reaches the Frame.

“Key, please.” It says automatically, fingers tapping out commands on the screen in front of it in rapid fire and optics not leaving the screen.

Glyph materializes long enough to transfer the data and then demats again; her words must have hurt it worse than she thought.

“Thank you.” The Frame says blandly, reaching a hand up to tap in more commands on an adjacent screen quickly before returning to monitoring traffic feeds. “Bay D10. Have your ghost consult the directory if you need assistance finding your lift pad. Please allow ten minutes for your ship to be retrieved from the hangar cells.”

She’s already turned away from the frame before it finishes getting through its usual operational diatribe, her steps hasty towards the nearest stairwell up to the flight bay catwalks. Considering she’s sure that Glyph is going to maintain its silence as she makes her way across the flight bay towards the loading area, it’s a surprise when it chooses to speak up.

‘I have a feeling I know what the answer is going to be, but I have to ask again: are you sure you want to do this?’

Licking her lips and telling herself that Glyph is completely justified in its worries, Quinn’s eyes settle on the sleek black lines of Roland’s ship as the bay clamps lift it up to the landing she’s heading for. “I know you don’t think this is a good idea, Glyph, but I want to know what this guy’s up to.”

It doesn’t say anything to that but she can tell it’s not fully convinced. Hell, she’s not fully convinced. The question lingers between them on whether or not that was the real reason she was doing this.

“Besides,” she says, stopping in front of her borrowed ship and setting a hand on the railing, staring into the empty windows of the cockpit, “if we’re going to tell the Vanguard about all this, might as well have as many details as we can get, right?”

‘I guess.’ It still doesn’t sound happy, but she refrains from repeating that it’s under no obligation to keep following her into this mess she knows she’s probably jumping feet-first into.

Without her having to say a word, Glyph transmats her into the center of the ship and materializes, flitting over to the cockpit with her following shortly after. Gradually the lights of the console brighten as it goes through a startup sequence, and as she sits down in the pilot’s seat she reaches up to pull the traffic feed down into her line of sight on the screen.

The ship jolts slightly as the station keeping thrusters kick to life, and again when the deck clamps release the hull and it drops before the thrusters catch it. The urge to take hold of the flight stick hits her but she resists, still unable to break that instinct even after years of knowing Tower routine.

The hangar bays had always been designed for ghosts to handle the ins and outs of ship docking, tight spaces meant for a balance between efficiency and safety; even guardians that had issues not having control of their own ships were required by Vanguard policy to only take control after leaving City airspace.

She’d never felt particularly comfortable controlling her ship, but a gut reaction was hard to control.

“Hold on.” Glyph says, dematting into the ship’s systems. The ship tilts as it slowly edges into the flight bay and turns to wait for the traffic controller’s go-ahead. A series of unhappy beeps leave the ship’s comms. “How Ghost manages the controls like this, I have no idea. Ugh, it’s a mess in here.”

She presses her lips into a thin line to keep from laughing, amused at the reappearance of Glyph’s usual charm and color—and at the thought that Roland’s ghost was just as much of a disaster as its guardian was.

A green triangle with an exclamation point appears in the bottom right of the ship’s screens, and she feels rather than hears the engines kick into gear. Within moments they’re in open air; a flight path on screen indicates where they’re being directed, more for her own benefit than Glyph’s. It takes them between a few towering skyscrapers and through the center of the City airspace—directly under the Traveler.

Her eyes lift as they pass under the shadow of the monolithic machine that had given all of them the power of the Light, internal machinery glowing and gently illuminating the clouds that drift around and above it, seemingly caught in its orbit along with the sections of its shell that had shattered with the resurgence of its power when it—rather than her own fireteam—put the final blow on Ghaul in its own defense.

Something still felt foreboding about that. She knows she isn’t the only one that felt that way.

She only refocuses on the view in front of the ship once they leave the Traveler behind and move out of City limits, the ship gently arcing up and away from the ground. Various feeds and data vanish from the viewscreen the farther they get, and the dark blue of nightfall gives way for clear black and sparkling stars as they pass through the atmosphere and into the emptiness between them.

A grid of intricate data replaces the emptiness of the screen, plotting a path through hyperspace as Glyph activates the jump drives and puts them into the lengthy warp that’ll take them to the outer reaches of the system.

She stands and moves away from the cockpit.

Usually this part of ship travel was what made her most uncomfortable, to the point where she was never able to relax until she’d reached her destination. Many guardians in transit left control to their ghosts and, depending on whether they were on the return trip or the outgoing trip, moved to the center of their ship to either catch some shut-eye or to pass the time by checking over their gear.

Or, in Cayde’s case, starting up betting pools and playing cards with anyone fool enough to try and best him at a game.

She blinks away the phantom image from her memory that had overlaid the inside of Roland’s ship, standing there in the ship with her arms wrapped around her middle and a hollow pit in her stomach.

It’s too quiet in the ship. It’s always too quiet.

She’s not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse, but this time, with it having been nearly a full day since she’d last slept and all the emotional ups and downs in between, she feels like she may actually be able to rest while in transit. She was exhausted.

And silent as the ship was, for the first time in weeks she felt like she was truly able to breathe. Out in the black, away from all the memories she was trapped with while in the Tower or the City, it felt easier to put everything from her mind and keep distance from her loss.

A loss that was causing her to snap and turn her anger on the people she cared for and who didn’t at all deserve it. The pit in her stomach twists. “Glyph—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glyph says quietly before she can get the words out, “I’ll keep an eye on things. Get some rest, I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna need it.”

With a nod she moves further back; the last time she’d been in Roland’s ship had been during the Legion takeover of the system, when it hadn’t been his own ship they’d been using to hop around the system trying to find a way to upend the Cabal’s sudden ironclad hold and stop Ghaul from taking the Traveler’s power for himself.

He’d gotten a new one, since, so it took her a few minutes longer to find where the ship’s bunk was. It felt a little odd to be using his bunk to sleep, but she wasn’t going into whatever it was she was heading for while both physically and mentally exhausted.

Grouchy as he always was, she’s sure he wouldn’t mind.

Though free from the physical reminders of memory she was trapped with on Earth, Quinn finds no more comfort in the stifling emptiness of a ship in open space, especially not while alone. She feels torn, restless as she lays on the bunk, the thought in her mind persistent that she was free.

Free from Zavala and the Tower, free from the Vanguard and their rules.

She was free to steer for the Reef instead.

It scratches at the back of her mind as she drifts, tempting, pulling her under and making her feel as though she was drowning before an uneasy sleep claims her.

When Glyph wakes her a few hours later, Quinn feels less rested than she had been before lying down, and she can’t shake the prickling sensation that she was diving a bit too close to something that had every intention of grasping her ankles and dragging her into the depths.

Then she stands and has to blink away stars, dizzy, and she dismisses the thought as exhausted delirium.

Her ghost waits patiently for her to rouse herself from the half-sleep she’s stuck in, saying nothing as she pauses before the cockpit to bounce a few times and try to shake the dredges of that comforting blackness away. It’s a weak success, but she can already tell that’s she’s going to need some real sleep soon or she’s going to collapse outright. “Where are we?”

“Approaching Nessus right now.” Glyph answers as she sits down, reactivating the viewscreen for her now that she was awake and able to appreciate the view. “The coordinates are taking us to the dark side of the planetoid, but we have to pass through what’s left of the Legion fleet to get there.”

“Think they’ll be a problem?”

Its response is delayed as it adjusts their flight path around a stray Cabal thresher. “I don’t think so. With both Ghaul and Calus gone, their leadership is in shambles. Most of their forces here on Nessus are planetside trying to keep what ground they’ve gained from the Fallen and Vex; not enough bodies to man weapons and navigation on their ships.”

That was some good news, at least. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of explaining to Roland how she got his ship destroyed—nor having to transmit an SOS back to the City for a rescue and having to explain to Zavala how she got off-world in the first place.

The cabin falls back into silence, and Quinn runs her fingers through her hair, watching the viewscreen as they fly closer to Nessus’s orbit. When they do make it to the other side of the planetoid, Glyph beats her to the punch in a reaction to what they find waiting for them.

“What is that?” It exclaims in shock and awe. Quinn almost misses the sudden flurry of data appearing to one side of the screen as Glyph tries to analyze the object from a distance; sort of like taking a caveman’s tools to a high-tech computer array considering jumpships weren’t designed for that kind of analysis. She can’t make heads or tails of the information, but she doesn’t need to in order to share in Glyph’s awe.

They’re looking at some sort of huge, spherical chunk of…something. It looked like a miniature moon, surrounded by a shimmering blue field with large rope-like structures looped around it. Something warps the surface of the object within that field, and she narrows her eyes.

“I’m not sure what it is, but I think it might be a chunk of a planetoid. A comet, maybe? It’s surrounded by a containment field, being dragged along by those carbon-fiber ropes—these energy readings are fascinating—and…” The data on screen halts and vanishes, replaced instead by a single waypoint directing them to an object neither of them had even noticed: a ship, slightly less than half the size of the object being dragged behind it, nearly hiding behind its mass. “We’ve got a docking location.”

“Is that ship where the coin’s signal was pointing us?”

“Seems like it. I’m not hearing any docking instructions from anyone on it, but this is definitely the place. There are a few other guardian jumpships docked there already.”

“How many?” She asks.

“Seven.”

Seven, with her being the eight. So four-versus-four, if the assumption that Gambit was a competition was correct. She returns to fidgeting with the coin after asking Glyph to drop it into her hand, interest and excitement steadily drowning out her exhaustion.

As their ship approaches the hull of the larger one—the thing looked damn near derelict, held together with nothing but duct tape and prayers and covered in mis-matched panels welded into place—a slot opens up, large enough for a standard-sized jumpship to fit into, and its here that the waypoint is directing them.

“Transferring the docking sequence over to the computer.” Glyph says, as the ship smoothly glides into the newly revealed bay. When the bay’s door slips shut behind them and bathes the interior of the ship in darkness, Glyph appears in a flash of light and drifts towards her, following as she pushes out of the pilot’s seat and heads for midship.

“Ready to go see what we’ve gotten ourselves into?” She asks it.

“No,” is its immediate, uncomfortable reply.

[afrolatinxsunited]

News & interesting information on POS and POS System Equipment.

The National Football League can’t quit the Dallas Cowboys. It’s a relationship built on one of the world’s most reliable aphrodisiacs: money.

Aren’t sappy love stories the best?

The league and this franchise have been joined at the hip over the last four decades because the Cowboys have consistently delivered monster television ratings, compelling story lines, and star power. Think Emmitt Smith and Michael Irvin, Roger Staubach and Tony Dorsett, Tom Landry and Jimmy Johnson.

We’re not sure Dak Prescott is going to be great. But because he’s the Cowboys quarterback, he’s one of the NFL’s most marketable players. As an athlete, coach, or front-office executive, to be associated with the Cowboys is to achieve an elevated status amid the NFL’s already rarefied air. Name another team whose owner is as famous as any of its players. That’s the magic of the Cowboys.

Like him or not, you have to tip your cap to Jerry Jones, the rascal in chief who took over a great brand in 1989 and made it even stronger and more resilient. They’ve won only four playoff games in the past 24 seasons, but the Cowboys’ mystique is based on more than the mere winning and losing of football games.

So it should come as no surprise that the NFL chose to pencil in Dallas for the 2021 regular-season opener on September 9, pitting the Cowboys against the defending Super Bowl champions, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and quarterback Tom Brady. The game is sure to be a textbook example of NFL excess in all its extravagant, prime-time glory—patriotism, celebrity, music, parades.

Roll your eyes if you like. Swear you’ve had it with Jerry and his handling of the Cowboys’ roster. Countless fans have done the same throughout Jones’s three-decade reign over “America’s Team.”

But once you’ve blown off that steam, you start thinking about Prescott’s return from injury and all the offensive talent the Cowboys surround him with. Then you start talking yourself into new defensive coordinator Dan Quinn as a smart coaching hire, and the notion that Jerry shored up some of the team’s weaknesses through the NFL draft and free agency creeps into your head.

That’s all it takes—you’re hooked! Now, you’re counting down the days to Cowboys-Bucs in the fall.

The NFL had other options for the opener. It could have gone with Tampa Bay at New England—Brady’s first trip back to Gillette Stadium and the most interesting game of the 2021 season. (Instead, that one’s on the books for October 3). But the NFL chose to come out swinging with the Cowboys, a team that went 6–10 in 2020—and to anyone who follows football, the decision makes all the sense in the world.

Opening night won’t be the last you’ll see of the Cowboys. They’re one of ten NFL franchises scheduled to play five prime-time games in 2021, with the San Francisco 49ers being the only other that didn’t make the playoffs last year.

If you’re looking for contrast between Texas’s two NFL franchises, start here: while every fan in the state keeps an eye on the Cowboys, the Houston Texans couldn’t operate in more anonymity if they tried.

This isn’t about winning and losing, either. In the past ten seasons, the Texans have had seven winning records and made six playoff appearances, compared with four winning records and three playoff appearances for the Cowboys. Over the same stretch, the Texans have six division championships and the Cowboys have three.

Still, you care more about the Cowboys because your dad cared, your grandfather cared, your best friend cared. Fifty years ago, you watched your dad in his Sunday best twisting a television antenna to find a station in Waco or Texarkana carrying the game. And if you’re too young to remember that, you remember your parents telling you about it.

Sure, the Cowboys and the NFL have had their share of lovers’ spats over issues like revenue sharing, corporate sponsorships, and a contract extension for commissioner Roger Goodell (which Jerry once tried to block). In the end, they’ve always worked things out and continued making the NFL our national pastime.

And the Cowboys have reasons to feel optimistic about 2021. NBC’s latest power rankings place them smack-dab in the middle of the league at number 16 overall. But at least Dallas is ranked higher than the rest of the NFC East teams, with Washington, Philadelphia, and New York clocking in at numbers 20, 28, and 29 among the NFL’s 32 teams.

Hope springs? Last year, Prescott’s gruesome ankle injury in week five ended his season and whatever hope the Cowboys had in 2020. But so far, he has passed every off-season test we know of and his recovery appears to be on track.

The Cowboys’ offensive line, which was all but wiped out by injuries last season, also appears to be nearing full strength heading into the fall. Prolific wideouts CeeDee Lamb and Amari Cooper are expected to ease the pressure on running back Ezekiel Elliott, who looked worn down last season while averaging a career-low 4.0 yards per carry.

As for the Dallas defense—who knows? Quinn’s hiring garnered favorable reviews from Hall of Famer Troy Aikman and others around the league. Then Jerry used his first six draft choices—and eight of eleven overall picks—on defensive players, including Penn State linebacker Micah Parsons and Kentucky cornerback Kelvin Joseph, both of whom could start immediately. Others—UCLA tackle Osa Odighizuwa and LSU linebacker Jabril Cox—are expected to help improve the Cowboys’ defense.

The team also added an assortment of mid-level defensive talent in free agency, but the bottom line is that Prescott’s return is the biggest reason the Cowboys will be better in 2021.

Now, remember those NBC power rankings? The Texans are number 32—dead last in the NFL and starting over after a string of bad trades by former coach and general manager Bill O’Brien, plus the apparent loss of quarterback Deshaun Watson, who was demanding a trade before he was sued by 22 women accusing him of sexual assault and harassment.

The Texans’ new general manager, Nick Caserio, is stripping the franchise down to its studs and beginning a reconstruction that’s likely to take at least two years. The Texans didn’t have a first- or second-round pick this year, but Caserio has added dozens of players via free agency, trades, and the draft. There aren’t any stars among that group, and given the franchise’s state of disrepair, Caserio probably wasn’t looking to sign splashy, big-name players. Instead, he added depth at every position, a ploy to create a competitive training-camp atmosphere that might help the Texans uncover diamonds in the rough. John McClain of the Houston Chronicle estimates that Houston could see 70 percent roster turnover by the season opener.

That trial-and-error philosophy was evident when Caserio traded for quarterback Ryan Finley, then released him two months later, days after signing a different veteran QB, Jeff Driskel.

Watson’s future hangs over every move the Texans make. The three-time Pro Bowler will be traded eventually, but fans could find themselves waiting the entire 2021 season for a deal. The NFL is still investigating Watson, with a potential punishment from the league looming as the civil lawsuits against him make their way through the court system, and the uncertainty over Watson’s future will hamper the Texans’ attempts to move him.

When they do trade Watson, the Texans hope to land multiple first-round picks in the swap, because Watson is talented enough to turn the right team into a Super Bowl contender. But that’s presuming the “right team” would be willing to place its future in the hands of a player whose behavior appears to have been, at best, horrific, and at worst, criminal.

In the end, the 2021 Houston Texans could turn out even worse than last season’s four-win team, but the franchise’s decision to embrace a rebuild provides fans some peace of mind. At least their team has a strategy.

Into this situation steps first-year head coach David Culley, who, despite never having held a coordinator position, won over Caserio with his passion, football acumen, and communication skills. In a perfect world, Caserio and Culley will ride out the tough times together, build a winning team, and have a great run.

Until then, the Texans are trying to build a team that competes hard and occasionally offers a glimpse of better days ahead. Maybe, someday down the road, they’ll even field a team worthy of a prime-time date with the Dallas Cowboys.

The above post was first published on this site.

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Injury Ward: Raanta Leaving a Big Hole in the Desert

Antti Raanta. Matt Kartozian / USA Today Sports Images

  Here’s this week’s latest in the world of injuries. As always, follow me on Twitter @BrennanDeSouza for the latest injury updates and line combinations!

  Ryan Miller – Sprained his MCL on Sunday against the Devils and will be re-evaluated in two weeks. Early estimates have him sitting out for the next six weeks. The Ducks claimed Chad Johnson off waivers, so they’ll be able to give John Gibson a few breaks every now and then.

  Rickard Rakell – At this point, we have no idea how long a sprained ankle will keep him out of the lineup. He’s still walking in a protective boot and hopes to accompany the team on their six-game road trip that begins on Saturday in Columbus.

  Corey Perry – It’s been about eleven weeks since Perry had knee surgery. He’s still on track to return sometime in early March.

  Alex Galchenyuk – Day-to-day with a lower-body injury.  Lawson Crouse took his spot on a line with Nick Schmaltz and Clayton Keller, but something tells me that’s not going to last…

  Antti Raanta – Had a procedure for a lower-body injury that should benefit his long-term health, but there’s a very real possibility he misses the rest of the season. As of right now, he’s out indefinitely. Darcy Kuemper should see the majority of starts going forward and makes a decent add if you’re desperate for goalie help.

  Patrice Bergeron – Has been skating on his own, but he’s still a week or two away from participating in practice. David Krejci has six points in three games since taking Bergeron’s spot on a line with Brad Marchand and David Pastrnak.

  Zdeno Chara – Has been skating on his own as he recovers from an MCL sprain. I expect to have another update for you before he actually returns (meaning he should be out at least another week).

  Jake DeBrusk – Officially, the Bruins’ forward is seeing specialists for an injury that has him out on a day-to-day basis. However, coach Bruce Cassidy said, “He gets diagnosed in some way, shape or form and he’ll go into that protocol and we’ll have a better idea on a timeline. As we’ve seen in the past, some of those come around quicker than others. So, it’s better not to speculate.” I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a concussion to me.

  Mikael Backlund – Concussion protocol. Not close to returning.

  Micheal Ferland – Tuesday night’s contest against the Leafs was his first game back from a concussion that cost him four games. Unfortunately, it looks like he’ll be back on the shelf after leaving the game with an upper-body injury. We should have more details in the coming days.

   Jordan Staal – Hasn’t been skating as he continues to recover from a concussion. Luckily for you, I’ve prepared a generic statement for whenever a player gets sidelined by a concussion. “Concussions are unpredictable, he’ll be back when he’s feeling well for a consistent period of time.”

  Artem Anisimov – Currently in concussion protocol. Cue the obligatory, “concussions are unpredictable, he’ll be back when he’s feeling well for a consistent period of time.”

  Josh Anderson – Left Tuesday’s game against the Canucks with an upper-body injury. From the looks of it, I’d expect him to be out weeks – not days. 

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  Oscar Klefbom – A hand injury will keep him out of the lineups for weeks – not days. This comes at an awful time as Klefbom had seven points in his last nine games and was seeing plenty of ice-time under coach Ken Hitchcock.

  Nick Bjugstad – While Bjugstad could probably play through the upper-body injury he’s dealing with, the team prefers to let him rest for a little bit. Consider him day-to-day for now.

  Drew Doughty – Left Tuesday’s game against the Sabres with an upper-body injury. It’s still early, but the injury isn’t believed to be too serious. Expect a more detailed update in the coming days.

  Mikko Koivu – It looks like the Wild captain will miss the next three to four weeks with a lower-body injury after this collision with Mark Giordano. Koivu had 21 points in 27 games prior to the injury.

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  Kyle Turris – Has been skating and believes he’s “pretty close” to a return. Turris has missed the last eight games with an undisclosed injury.

  P.K. Subban – Sounds like he’s close to a return? Then again, GM David Poile didn’t really specify who he was talking about when he said he was optimistic a couple of Predators were getting really close to a return. Considering Viktor Arvidsson and Filip Forsberg should still be out for a few more weeks, I’m assuming Poile was talking about Turris and Subban?

  Kevin Shattenkirk – Left Monday’s game against the Lightning with a shoulder injury. He was spotted with his shoulder in a sling and will be out indefinitely.

  Mats Zuccarello – Was a full participant in practice! Coach David Quinn used the word ‘very’ three times when describing how close Zuccarello was to a return. I swear I’ve been saying Zuccarello is close to a return for the past three weeks. He’s missed seven straight games…

  Pavel Buchnevich – After participating in a full practice, we should see him return to the lineup within the next few days. Perhaps Friday against the Coyotes? Sunday against the Golden Knights?

  Matt Duchene – Is out week-to-week with a groin injury. He had 34 points in 29 games prior to the injury. Why can’t Sens fans have nice things…

  Bobby Ryan – Concussion. Siri, paste my generic statement about concussions. “Concussions are unpredictable, he’ll be back when he’s feeling well for a consistent period of time.”

  Sean Couturier – Expect him to be in the lineup on Wednesday when the Flyers visit the Flames. It looks like he’ll play on a line with Michael Raffl and Jakub Voracek – not the usual Claude Giroux and Travis Konecny, who will play with James van Riemsdyk.

  Patric Hornqvist – Didn’t practice on Tuesday. Remains day-to-day with an upper-body injury.

  Matt Murray – Is extremely close to a return after participating in a full practice with the rest of his team. Apparently, Murray was played through some discomfort before eventually being shut down, which might explain his poor numbers (4.08 GAA & .877 SV%) this season. Casey DeSmith has been excellent in Murray’s absence, sporting a 9-4-4 record, 2.34 GAA and .925 SV% on the season.

  Andrei Vasilevskiy – Now that we’re about four weeks into the original four to six-week timetable, we can say he’s very close to a return. He might even be available on Thursday when the Lightning host the Leafs. Tampa has gone on an impressive 12-2 run without Vasilevskiy, so they have no real reason to rush him back.

  Paul Stastny – There’s a good chance Stastny will be in the lineup on Wednesday against the Islanders. The final decision will be made on game day, but Stastny said he’s feeling good after missing two months with a lower-body injury.

  Tom Wilson – Has been skating and should be cleared to participate in Wednesday’s practice. If all goes well, he’ll be in the lineup on Friday when the Capitals visit Carolina. However, he is dealing with a concussion, which can be unpredictable – so nothing’s set in stone.

    from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-home/injury-ward/injury-ward-raanta-leaving-a-big-hole-in-the-desert/