#so far i haven't found enough of anything to harvest

[theinternetisaweboflies]

[a-salty-sal]

Blind!Danny AU

Danny feels the blanket on his lap, the rough texture feeling so much worse compared to before. Jazz had just informed him that he will have to go to school tomorrow, that his absences due to the… accident are no longer going to be excused. The thought of why he had been absent makes him whimper and curl into a ball.

‘Come on Danny it will just be for a second!’ Sam's black hair waves in her rocking motion of excitement.

‘Right! If you don’t want to be the one to step into it I can’ Tucker looks up from his pda with a wide smile.

‘No! I will do it… Neither of you have hazmat suits.' Danny stated as he pulled on his gloves, a frown gracing his face. 'I just think this isn't going to turn out well… even if the portal doesn't work something else could happen. I don't know if everything my parents worked on in here is safe to be around.'

'Ghosts don't even exist, for all we know this 'ectoplasm' your parents bought of that weird guy in a trenchcoat at that London convention they dragged you too last month was jello water with green food coloring.' Sam leant forward, her right hand on her hip as she waved the other hand in a flippant manner.

Danny sighed but agreed with Sam even though his stomach twisted in anxiety. After confirming with his two friends that the camera was on he stepped up to the metal frame of the project his parents have worked on his entire life. He couldn't believe that the one thing his parents truly prioritized over all else didn't do a thing.

'Sam, is this far enough in?' The ravenette says after he takes three steps in.

'Just two more steps then turn to face us!' She was looking over Tucker's shoulder to see the camera screen from where it was held in front of his face.

"Danny?" A familiar voice brings him back to the present with a jolt. His head snaps to face the voice with a crack. Distantly Danny can feel his nails pierce the fabric clenched in his grip as he tries to identify who it is that wants his attention.

"Danny…" He can hear the voice hitch with a sob that tries to hide itself with a sigh. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't startle me." Danny denies that he was startled in any way, denies that he can still feel his pulse in his throat and that truly being unable to see anything was so vastly different to closing your eyes or walking into a room untouched by any form of light. That darkness could not be so far from sightlessness that even comparing the two was impossible.

"If you say so." Jazz let the obvious lie slide past as she found her spot on Danny's left. She had taken to always taking place in the same area when visiting Danny. He knew it was so he never had to guess where she was to push her or pull her into a hug for comfort. "Have Mom and Dad visited you yet today? Mom said she was going to have lunch with you."

"They didn't come today either." Every day their parents would tell Jazz that they would visit Danny at some time and everyday Danny would have to come to terms with it being pushed off once again. Some new discovery blossoming within the lab or some new problem with a project not responding with the ecto they harvested.

"I am sure they will show up tomorrow." Jazz placed a hand on Danny's shoulder as she tried to comfort her younger brother. "I am sure once they settle in with being able to unlimitedly interact with Ghosts they will start having more time with us."

Danny nodded and leaned into Jazz's touch. He doubted it would change as the state of things haven't even wavered within the ten days he's spent at the hospital. Maybe once he returns home their parents will be able to spare time with him.

The Dr.'s Fenton had not left the basement since they were told their son was stable and going to adequately make a recovery. The doctors were not pleased to have to tell a seventeen year old highschool student the important details of Danny's state. Jazz made sure to copy down notes of what to do so Danny could be comfortable at home and how to help him adjust.

"Jazz…?"

"Yeah, Danny?"

"I'm not getting my sight back."

"Yeah, one of your nurses pulled me aside before I came in today."

"The nerves are too fried to ever recover. I won't get to be an astronaut Jazz. I won't ever get to see the stars again."

"I am so sorry Danny…" Jazz pulled her little brother into a hug. She wished for anything she could do to solve this for her little brother. The teen knew that no matter what she did she couldn't fix Danny's eyes, she couldn't turn back time to stop her little brother from stepping into that portal. She couldn't do anything and it burned in her chest, the uselessness and futility of her rage, it burned hot and fierce under her ribcage. The feelings scorched her heart and made it twinge with every beat.

[clonerightsagenda]

L&Co ep 6. I am going to start this by saying something nice.

I do think they're doing a good job of showing George feeling isolated. It's tough to do when you squash the timeline so much - he doesn't have months of grievances, they've only worked together for a few weeks - but being able to move outside Lucy's pov allows the show to emphasize it. Tbh George is head and shoulders coming out of this show looking the best because he's not being filtered through Lucy's uncharitable pov.

Ok starting the episode now, let's see if I find anything else nice to say.

"We found Annabel Ward's murderer." I mean, you cheerfully walked into his deathtrap and then clocked it after the attempted murder but ok.

Oh man I didn't think about the fact that Lockwood can now see a death glow every time he leaves through the front door. And after the last book, also one in his kitchen. The poor kid cannot lose his talent soon enough. Might be good for his mental health.

I imagined the skull's grotesque distorted faces more as the result of taking a human face off its underlying bone structure and then squashing it behind glass (like smushing your face against a window but worse because #boneless) but evil smoke is probably easier to animate. Also the former might stray into cartoonish territory and this show is far less interested in being funny.

Lucy has entered her conspicuously glowing backpack era

They're calmly considering letting him out much earlier than in the books, I'm surprised Lockwood didn't freak at the mere suggestion

Well we haven't gotten any colorful death threats yet but we have gotten a 'let your dipshit friends die already' so maybe they haven't entirely nuked the skull's personality. Well played on manipulating him right back though Lucy.

TV Bickerstaff made his own sources by killing his patients? Suppose that's faster than robbing graves (although messier because you have to do all the defleshing yourself), but then why was he robbing graves? Unless I guess he killed them, pretended they died of natural causes, and then went back to the graves after the burial. Personally I think harvesting old sources is the better option, then the visitors don't hate you personally. The bone glass spirits all seemed relatively chill just kind of bummed out.

Except, hang on, he couldn't have harvested these ones for the bone glass, because then their ghosts wouldn't be here.

Shame they did the dead patients and not the rat ghost, that would've been fun to see animated (but probably a bitch to do which presumably is why they changed it)

It's odd to hear them consistently using 'he' for the skull already. In the books they tend to switch between gendered and it pronouns for all the ghosts until the very end when everyone but Lockwood switches to he/him exclusively. Stroud is pretty deliberate about characterization via pronoun use in both his series I've read, so this seems a bit hasty.

Show!Lucy: I'm the nicer more sensitive one <3 I respect your pronouns <3 I am still not letting you out of that jar though

You can force a source? That's interesting.

Also, ok, here the old notes show making the glass with seven sources. Iirc the book only had 3 or 4 which is what I'm guessing Bickerstaff fucked up, since we know spirit goggles work. He made it with too many and opened the gate a little too wide.

"You've got a good track record with precious necklaces." Did they write that line before switching Annie's source to a ring?

Also, Lockwood was very brave and/or optimistic to gift Lucy a second family heirloom after she lost? left behind? stopped wearing? the first one. Maybe switching to gold was a tacit acknowledgement that she’s going to keep chatting up dead people no matter how much he hates it and so silver isn’t going to cut it.

The only color in this crowd is blue. You'd think people would avoid black for party wear. Too funeral

Wrecking her shitty boss is actually a great play to gain her trust, nice one Penelope. People's bribes are much better in this version

"They're not looking at me. Not really me. They're looking at the great Penelope Fittes." Lol you don't say

"Like a date?" "Is that so hard to believe?" It is for ME because in the BOOK he is TWENTY and she is FOURTEEN and I am in HELL

You know if they pursue this thread seriously I bet they would've killed him off for real in The Empty Grave. This man's life was saved by the Netflix cancellation

Assuming this is Rupert Gale. He's got guyliner now

A golden sword is actually really interesting because rapiers are meant to be used against ghosts and gold does nothing to them. But gold plate (I assume, a fully gold sword would bend or break immediately) is delicate and would get scratched to hell immediately if you crossed blades with another living human. A golden rapier would be a great toy for some rich bastard who wants to show off how much they don't need to use it. It's an odd thing to give a powerful person's hired enforcer.

Salt sprinklers… having a ghost alarm is actually a great bit of worldbuilding. I was going to say regular fire sprinklers should work just as well since ghosts hate running water, but salt is easier to clean up. Less property damage. Wonder what the nightclub blue light is for. Does it make visitors show up better?

[freedomarrow]

“ Oh, there you are, Leonardo! ”  Pelleas calls out as he approaches the archer, gift parcel in hand.  “ A merry Winter Festival to you. I hope I'm not bothering you or anything, but I have a gift I wanted to give you for the day. ”

And so the wrapped box exchanges hands between the two of them. When Leonardo opens it, inside is revealed to be a collection of books.

“ I remember you said you were considering returning to your family's lands. I don't know if you've made your decision yet but I thought if you were still thinking about it, you might find some use out of these... They're tomes I've found on governing. I had to self-teach myself a lot after Izuka disappeared... ”  A veil of gloom eclipses Pelleas's face then, but he tries to speak past it nevertheless.  “ So I tried to find texts in Daein's library back then on the subject... see if the kings before me had anything they had left behind. Those were the ones I found most useful. Oh, um, excuse any notes you see in the margins though. Those might be mine. ”

And true to his word, if Leonardo thumbed through some of the pages, something resembling chicken scrawl could be found on the edges of old parchment.

“ I realized eventually to start taking my own notes elsewhere, but some of them still have my handwriting anyway... but the information in there is still good! I can promise you that. I'm, um, here to try and help you if you need. For Daein. But also for your sake too... whatever you decide, Leonardo, I'd like to be of some help if I can manage it. ”

During the days of the Dawn Brigade, opportunities to indulge in gift-giving were few and far between, and even if they did happen, said gifts were small and practical; a new shirt, a quiver of fresh arrows, an extra portion of food, the works. All across Daein, people tried their best to keep at least tiny sparks of joy alive even as they fed themselves mere scraps, and it was thoroughly bittersweet to both watch and be a part of.

But a desperate soul will find a positive twist in just about anything. He has come to understand, over time, that it served to teach him to appreciate even the smallest of things - things that, as he realized, he would be hard-pressed to so much as notice as a "proper noble". After all, the higher above the ground someone sits, the more difficult it becomes to see the details beneath, however beautiful they may be.

And he appreciates them to this day; after all, being remembered meant that someone had to put in extra effort for his sake.

So it surprises him a little when he hears Pelleas' voice calling him, and turns to see the former prince with a box in his hands meant for the archer. The initial mild confusion is steadily replaced by a light smile - he would not want the other to think him ungrateful, after all - and a quiet "thank you" as he accepts the gift. As he hears Pelleas out, he carefully unwraps it, his hand rubbing across the cover of the tome on top.

His expression widens a hint after the Sorcerer finishes talking, staying silent for a moment longer before speaking out himself.

"Thank you, Pelleas." It has taken a while, but he has finally grown to more consistently say the other's name without tripping against the honorific. "I don't mind your notes in the books at all! If anything, they'll probably come in handy..."

Looking up at him, Leonardo continues. "I haven't made the final decision yet, but... They were inviting me to attend their harvest festival recently. It ended up being, well... busy around here, so I wasn't able to go, but..." Sigh. "They've been trying to subtly let me know here and again that they want me to stay, so... I'm considering it more and more."

A huff - not long enough to qualify as a chuckle, but with amusement audible in it nonetheless - escapes him before the blond offers Pelleas a nod, his smile now much warmer than in the beginning.

"... So these will probably come in very handy. Thank you, I appreciate it a lot. I hope you have a good Winter Festival, too."

[blindrapture]

so, djay update. what have I been up to since I last checked in.

been watching documentaries with ellie. also the bee movie. I'd never seen the bee movie before.

I found my old Introduction to Music textbook (david d. boyden, published in like the 1950s, this is a second edition from the 70s, it's a Faber paperback!) and am back to trying to study that.

new albums I have now listened to: Camel: Mirage Fear Factory: Mechanize Phil Collins: Both Sides, No Jacket Required

stuff I had heard before but am trying to pay more attention to now: Anna Meredith: Varmints, Fibs Black Sabbath's.. everything Boards of Canada's everything before Tomorrow's Harvest Pole's everything, but I'm starting with Fading

stuff I haven't gotten to yet but keep forgetting that I haven't gotten to, therefore I need to get to: Haken: Fauna King Crimson: everything after Larks' Tongues in Aspic Liquid Tension Experiment: LTE3 disc 2. a night at the improv or whatever. Mastodon: Once More Around The Sun, Emperor of Sand, Hushed & Grim Mogwai: Come On Die Young, Rock Action, Every Country's Sun Trivium: I dunno, I have this Trivium CD that I bought several years ago and never even touched it. Ascendancy. okay but what about not music. there are things in this world that aren't music. like there's video games!

I picked up Skyrim VR when it was on sale. I'm a little shocked that all the bad reviews were exaggerating. it's literally fine. it's just Skyrim. it's got the same amount of jank that Skyrim always had. I also picked up Fallout 4 (regular fallout 4) because it was also on sale. had a good 8 hours of that, then I ran into a bug that I've gotta find a way to work around. it involves the goddamn dog. why did they add the dog? or, like, whatever, fine, add the dog, but why did they make the dog so obviously a big deal, like near the start of the game it's like "HEY HERE'S THE DOG, YOU LOVE THE DOG, HAVE THE DOG WITH YOU" and I just immediately dismiss the dog the first chance I get because I don't want to fucking play fallout with a fucking dog. anyway.

I picked up quite a few games because that steam winter sale was kinda amazing. got the Resident Evil 1 remake for some reason, got it more because it was a gamecube game I haven't played rather than anything else. and also there's this game called, what's it called, In Sound Mind? that was made by the creators of Nightmare House, and Portal: The Flash Version. I love those guys, hell yeah I want to play a new game of theirs. didn't even know it existed.

I tried Knights of the Old Republic last night. bought it years and years ago, kept meaning to get to it. I got through the very beginning, got off the spaceship, and then uninstalled the game. that gameplay is rough, and the writing... holy shit, that's what passed as Really Good Game Writing back in the day... "wow you must have hit your head on something! so my name is dave, I've been your roommate for the last two weeks, this lady here is your mother, she's known you your entire life, and here, let me give you a tutorial on how to wipe your ass and open doors." just, I'm not gonna be able to make it through an entire complex RPG with that. plus I hate the controls anyway. and I don't even like star wars!

what else.

I got back to GTA 3. the definitive edition got a pretty good update recently, the visuals look a lot nicer now. I mean, my copy's on the switch, so it's not gonna look like PS5 shit, but that's better here, GTA 3 shouldn't even try to look like that. GTA 3 looks about right on the switch. but so, I hunkered down and did a bunch of missions, and I've finally unlocked the final island now, thus opening up the whole map. I've never gotten far enough in a PS2-era GTA to open up the whole map before. really stoked about it. but uh those missions are painful. I'm following a fucking walkthrough and the missions are painful, because there's only so much a walkthrough can really prepare you for. I might stop with the campaign and just enjoy roaming the map now. and then eventually I'll give Vice City a try.

I can't really try to speak with distance on GTA, because I did literally grow up with these games. I remember when the first one was new. I was like 3. my brother got it on PS1. we liked GTA 2 a lot more. and I grew up usually watching my brothers play them, but when GTA 3 came out it was a big fucking deal. I remember we loved the radio stations so much, we'd use my brother's computer and a microphone and record our own little radio station stuff, little inserts and call-ins and advertisements. Vice City was a refinement of how good that felt, and the music was nice, and the game looked pretty, yes! but Vice City was always the least-special of the three PS2 games for me, it's the one I'm the least attached to. San Andreas was the greatest game ever. it had fucking 2-player free roam. I don't see anybody talking about that anymore, but, it did!! go to idlewood, there's a little housing unit, and in the middle of it is an icon, you walk into the middle of that icon, then press a button on a second controller, and voila! you could just roam the whole fucking map with a friend, goof off, drive cars, it was the best!!! did Vice City have that? did Vice City have fucking multiplayer??? no!!! did Vice City have three fucking cities??? and countryside??? no!!! did Vice City have Faith No More??? what did Vice City have? fucking Ray Liotta!!! who gives a shit about Ray Liotta and his robotic laugh-face!!! I rest my case!

so!

actually trying to play through the PS2 GTA games is like unfinished business for me. I want to unlock the whole maps so I can earn my goofing off.

what.. what else.

I played through Half-Life Alyx. this was my first time actually playing it through by myself, no dev commentary, and no brother rushing me through the puzzles and spoiling my time. just me and City 17. giving me time to enjoy the game, and interpret it in new ways. I found some parallels with the Inferno this time. there's even a fucking Beatrice, who isn't even there, just like in the Inferno. and a satan chained up in the deepest pits of hell. and Portal 2 had the whole Prometheus allegory going on, so Valve have done that kind of thing before. I think Alyx is an Inferno thing. Russel is your Virgil. the headcrab zombies are lost souls suffering twisted torture. even the combine soldiers are lost souls in a way. Half-Life Alyx is a very very good game. kinda one of the best games ever made, and I think it'll only age gracefully.

yeah.

let's end it here.

[orioncarnell]

The days were getting cooler, and everybody was slowly but surely preparing themselves for the upcoming winter. While most of the work was going on the farm, bringing in the last harvest, prepping what they grew so it'd last them the cold months, the raiders were busy too. Preserved food, warm clothing, fuel, medicine, anything that would help them survive the cold until spring. With Isaac still recovering from his injuries, they were one raider short, too, so needless to say, Orion had been busy.

He'd just been making his way back to Redwood, his bag stuffed full with winter clothing he'd found in a largely untouched store in a small town. His eyes wandered over his surroundings, watchful and attentive, even as in his mind he went through the things they'd still needed. He'd just been wondering whether Isaac would be happy about the pair of lined socks Orion had grabbed for him, when something caught his attention. As soon as he saw the figure of a person up through the underbrush, his body became rigid, his senses focused. They didn't look like a walker, but that didn't mean they weren't an enemy. They could be a sunfacer, or a hostile raider, and if they were, they were too close to Redwod. If they weren't, they might need help. After a short moment of consideration, Orion pushed on, hand on the gun holstered on his side.

It was a man, pressed up against the tree trunk like a trapped animal. As soon as he stretched out a hand, Orion stopped where he was, a few meters away. He didn't immediately answer, instead quietly watching the man, seizing him up. Checking for weapons - the fact that the other man hadn't pulled one out was a good sign, but not enough to make Orion relax. After a few long, silent moments Orion answered. "I have no intention of hurting you, if that is what you mean."

Orion's hand slipped off his holstered gun, though he kept them by his side, just in case. "Who are you? And what are you doing here? I haven't seen you around here before." Orion was pretty sure he wasn't a Redwood resident. Just somebody traveling through? He didn't seem like he was in need of help either, no visible injuries as far as Orion could see, but he looked scared. Anxious. Pressing himself close to the tree, as if they could disappear into it. It wasn't an unfamilar look. "I'm Orion." The raider volunteered, hoping it would put the man at ease to know who he was talking to. "Do you need help?"

Starter for @orioncarnell Setting: The woods outside of Redwood

Just put one foot in front of the other. One after the other. One after the other. Don't think about the dangers. So many dangers. Just think about your feet. One after the other. One after the other.

Jock had made it this far, right? He could make it even further because he had to. If he stopped now, that would be it for him. No more Jock and he was nowhere near ready for no more Jock. And he had managed a similar feat before. He had made it from Washington DC to the Hyland's farm in West Virginia, hadn't he? Sure, he had a truck that got him there back then and now he was walking but that should diminish his initial achievement!

He dared to look up from the ground to find he was still surrounded by trees, with no obvious sign of any nearby towns or landmarks to help guide him. He looked back down at his feet as he forced himself to trudge onwards. He just had to hold onto the hope that he'd find somewhere safe to live soon. Soon. Soon couldn't come soon enough.

Up ahead, there was some rustling in among the plant life. Jock froze to the spot. He listened carefully, trying to detect the tell-tale sounds of biters. No groans, no shambling footfalls. Even so, that didn't mean Jock was safe. Why wasn't he safe? Why did he leave the farm when he could've stayed there (he knew why but his panic wasn't letting him see it)?

He pressed himself against the nearest tree, the solid feeling of it grounding him just a little, just enough. A tall figure came through the overgrowth towards him. Jock raised up his hand.

"Woah, buddy, that's far enough, OK? You a friend or foe?"

[sezja]

A Different Sting, Part 2

Previously: Part 1

She'd been far too late in leaving Gridania, Tsimh knows; only half a bell earlier, and she might have been able to talk her way into traveling with some stablehands heading back to Bentbranch. But no, no, she'd left it far too late, reluctant to risk the danger of the Black Shroud at all, she'd left herself with no choice but to risk it alone. The forest has changed, of late. Oh, of course the Twelveswood has always been dangerous, but in a way she understood, as any forest-born child did: mind the hearers, stay to the safe paths, don't disrespect the forest, and no harm would come to you.

But the creeping approach of Dalamud has changed things.

Still, she finds it difficult to entirely regret her decision to set out alone. Had she been accompanied by others, the beasts might not have thought her such easy prey. And had they not attacked, perhaps she'd not have needed to be rescued.

They walk in silence, their feet crunching through fallen leaves. Tsimh steals covert glances at her savior from beneath her lashes, wondering what he must be thinking. She has never found elezen fellows particularly appealing - so tall! They look as though they've been pinched and stretched everywhere. But Martiallais, with his quiet, pensive demeanor, has her bewitched. From the moment he'd appeared seemingly out of nowhere, spear in hand, slaughtering the beasts like some sort of guardian spirit-

Her heart is racing again, remembering.

She'd feared him for all of a moment, only half a breath, before he'd knelt beside her. Such beautiful eyes, such a deep, dark green, the sort of color she's only seen in deepwood plants. And his voice, low and sweeter than honey, turning her fear into something else, something else entirely. She'd have let him take her there on the grass, if he'd have her, there by the beasts he'd killed to save her life.

Her face heats again. Menphina, save me! I'm not that sort of girl.

"Are you alright, miss?" He peers down at her, and she realizes she's stopped walking, lost in her own fantasies.

With a small squeak, she hastens to his side. "I... I must have twisted my ankle. W-when I fell," she stammers. "It's nothing. Nothing, truly."

He smiles - faintly, but she sees it, that little curl of his lips, a little lopsided with one of the scars that tugs at them. She wonders where he got those scars. She wonders how those scarred lips would feel against her own. She only barely hears him say, "We'll walk a little slower, aye?"

"Y... yes." Anything to spend a bit more time with you. Sure enough, his long strides become slower, matching her pace. Tsimh finds she cannot stop staring at his legs now, the way they move, the power in each stride.

"You're a botanist?"

Oh, gods, he's talking to her. Pay attention. "Oh, only... only an assistant, that is, I... I hope to become a botanist someday, but... but for now, I only, you know, water the plants, take some cuttings... and make deliveries."

He nods, listening. "Sounds like a botanist to me."

"I don't... plant things. I can't identify half the plants I'm tending," she admits, her grip tightening on the straps of her satchel. "And I don't gather in the field. Even an adventurer fresh from the wilds can harvest sap and lumber; I only..." She sighs. "Well. I like green, growing things, that's all, I suppose."

She expects to be teased, but when she glances up, he's smiling at her. That same little smile, with the scar tugging it. She wonders if it hurts him to smile more than that little bit.

Instead of teasing, he asks, "What's your favorite?"

"My... my favorite?"

"Plant, aye."

Oh, goodness. She laughs a little, surprised by the sweetness of the question; the innocence of it - how incongruous it is with his weathered leathers and ragged scars. "Have you heard of moongrass? It's a flower that only grows wild in the depths of the Sylphlands. I've never... well, I haven't seen it in person, of course, only drawings..." She's babbling. "It's blue, you see, and it emits its pollen in bubbles."

"Bubbles," he repeats, nonplussed.

"It's silly," she says, her face heating once more. "I know, but-"

"No," he says, gentle again. It makes her vision swim. "I just never heard of such a thing. Shroud's full of wonders. Any others you like?"

He's putting her at ease, she realizes as she answers; trying to talk her down from the shock of being attacked. Talking her through simple things. Things she likes, what she does every day. Keeping her mind going, so it doesn't cycle back to that awful moment when those creatures came surging out of the trees. She lets herself be led, physically and mentally; he could be taking her anywhere. Does she know this part of the forest? Yes, yes, she knows that patch of flowers, she knows that spindly vine.

He would never lead her astray. He would never harm her.

She notices, now, how he's keeping a careful distance from her, always perhaps a fulm apart, so they never touch. Probably for the best. Gods, any closer, and he'd feel the heat rolling off of her. She believes she wants him more now, knowing how kind he is under all that lack of polish. Any other man, coming upon a young woman alone in the woods, afraid and vulnerable...

I'm not that kind of girl, she reminds herself. And anyhow, she's hardly a vision of beauty and innocence ready to be debauched, in her grass-stained fieldwork gear with smudges of mud on her knees. Next time she's rescued by some handsome young rogue, she's going to be certain to wear a better gown. Gods, the way her sisters will laugh when they hear about this! Little Tsimh, unable to perform the most basic of seductions! They're going to laugh themselves hoarse.

But she finds she cannot care, because walking with Marty, talking with him, is the most enjoyable thing she has done in moons.

Gradually, she realizes her stammer is gone, her limbs have stopped shaking. She speaks endlessly about her work at the Growery, the many little odd jobs she does around Gridania, and even her family - he's keeping her talking, of course, asking little things, but she doesn't mind; cannot mind. She tries to ask him questions in turn, things about himself, yet every time, she finds herself answering yet another of his questions, none the wiser about him all the while. He remains carefully, deliberately out of reach, in every sense. It could drive her mad.

All too soon, they reach their destination.

"You're late, lass," the gamekeeper says, his concerned tone shifting immediately to suspicion as he takes in the sight of Marty standing just behind Tsimh. She knows what he must see: a ruffian using an innocent girl's naivete against her, for his own wicked ends.

Menphina, if only.

"Y-yes," she says, stammering again as she reaches into her satchel, fishing out the clippings and cuttings he'd requested. "I... I ran into some trouble on the road."

"I see that."

She frowns, stepping back and deliberately grasping Marty's arm. He tenses, but doesn't jerk free of her grasp. How strong his arm feels... but she can't be distracted, not now. "There were beasts," she says firmly, eyebrows knotting beneath her blue fringe. "Marty saved my life, and offered to escort me here and back to Gridania. He has been a perfect gentleman!" Unfortunately, she doesn't add.

The gamekeeper looks between the two of them, slow and thoughtful. "Is that so."

"It is!"

His keen-eyed gaze rests on Marty, eyes narrowing. "You'll see her safely home, then, lad?"

She hears the quiet breath leave him, a sigh he was holding back. "Aye, sir. On my life."

"You'd best believe it is. Marty, is it?"

"Martiallais," he clarifies, politely. He pats her hand, still gripping his arm, with his own free hand. "You gave the fellow everything he needed, miss?"

She nods primly, tightening her grip on his arm, an unspoken I'm not letting go. "I did, ser. We should get back to Gridania before it gets dark." She nods to the gamekeeper, still piqued. "Good evening."

"Aye, travel safe, lass." The man's voice rises. "And you, lad! If I hear aught's befallen her, I'll see you suffer for it!"

"Never mind him," she says, hastening Marty along with an iron grip. "He knows my father, that's all." Word of this will get back to my father, she realizes, and she cannot decide if the shiver that darts down her spine is fear... or the titillation of doing something she knows her father will never approve of. Traveling the Shroud with a strange man! A strange elezen man! What will people say, Tsimh?

"Can't hardly blame the man," Marty says, gesturing to himself with his free hand. "I ain't exactly a knight in shining armor."

She briefly imagines him in armor. Ooh... "You saved my life," she says, resolute. "I trust you. That ought to be good enough."

"Grand judge of character, are you?" That little smile again.

"Are you secretly a wicked man, Marty?" She teases, squeezing his arm, which she has not relinquished. "Are you planning to do awful things to me, after all?"

He looks at her, briefly stunned, and a pink flush rises in his cheeks. "I..."

Oh, she realizes, heart leaping into her throat all over again, heat pooling at her core. Oh, he does want me too. Boldly, Tsimh leans a little closer, letting her breasts rest against his arm (if only she wasn't wearing this heavy botanists' vest!). She doesn't let her gaze stray from his.

"Perhaps," she begins, but her mouth is dry. She licks her lips, swallows, cannot believe what she is saying, what she is asking. "Perhaps, just to be safe, you ought to walk me all the way home?"

She fears he'll refuse. She fears he'll push her away, resume his careful distance, and it'll shatter her heart into a thousand pieces.

Instead, he smiles.

She is learning to love that smile.

"It's dangerous these days," he says, quiet and soft, but she sees the flicker of heat in his eyes, like a banked flame. "Mayhap you're right. Just to be safe."

[imtryingmybeskar]

So I'm sure we have all seen Pedro in the overalls today and my beautiful friend suggested a farmboy fic and I couldn't rest until I made it a reality.

*Disclaimers* I know nothing about farming, nor am I from the US. I imagined him as having a softer version of the Whiskey accent.

18+ only! You know the drill. 3.9k words.

The first time you saw him he was striding along the dusty road to your farmhouse, the sun at his back, his shadow stretching long ahead of him. Only someone looking for work and out of luck with it would be approaching at this late hour. From your perch at your bedroom window, you could look down and see the fatigue in the set of his shoulders, the dejection in the bow of his head. As he neared he stopped and dropped his pack to the ground before attempting to make himself presentable - raking his hand through his dark hair before setting his cap back on, dusting the legs of his overalls free of as much of the dirt of the road as he could, and finally straightening his back, righting his posture to make himself look strong, tall, not as hard up as he was. His rap at the door came as you were nearly at the bottom of the stairs and your dog, who had been peacefully sleeping at his approach finally woke and defended in a storm of paws and tail and barking.

"Hey! No!" you told her, and she quietened down and stayed where you told her to, in the line of sight from the doorway but no immediate threat to anyone on the other side. Opening the door you were greeted by the sight of a not-so-young-anymore man. Despite his efforts to clean himself up, his arms were streaked with grime and sweat and you could see the stains of his exertion under his arms and at his neck. His head remained bowed as he began to speak and you got the feeling he had replayed this spiel many times recently.

"Ma'am, I'm very sorry to trouble you. I'm here to see if you are lookin' to take on anyone at the farm at this time?" His voice was deep and rich with an enticing southern twang, sweet as honey whiskey.

"What kind of work can you do?" His eyes raised to your face and the hope you saw in their soft, dark depths almost melted you. As if he hadn't even gotten this far along with anyone for a very long time.

"Just about anything," he answered. "I can drive - harvesters, tractors. I can take care of all kinds of animals, muck 'em out, feed 'em. I've helped birth 'em too, though I know that time is passed for this year. I can sow and harvest by hand too if that's needed. And I can mend things, fences, roofs, you name it." Looking at him appraisingly, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Why are you on foot? Must have travelled an awful long way to get all the way out here." He looked down again, presenting you with the brim of his cap to look at instead and shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"I uh...I lost my own farm. Not too long ago. Sold everything I had to try and keep it afloat. Even my car."

"So, if I were to take you on-" his head snapped up eagerly again. "IF" you emphasised, "Would you be needing a place to stay as well?"

"If you had anywhere that could accommodate me, I would be most grateful for that, yes Ma'am."

"I want you to know that I've been out here on my own for a time. I know how to take care of myself. And I'm sure you heard and can see Tank behind me there." He was nodding as you spoke.

"I don't want no trouble. Just a job and a roof over my head." You eyed him for a few seconds more before stepping back from the door to let him in. He entered gingerly, staring around wide eyed as if he hadn't been inside a house for a long time.

"You hungry?"

"No...I mean, I don't wanna impose-"

"No imposition. If you're gonna work for me, you need feeding. Come with me." The dog whined a little as you approached, and you stroked her head. "Come!" you commanded the dog and she raced away ahead of you. Checking to see the man was following, you led him past the stairs and through the living area to the back. Here you had a small extension set up, with a bathroom and shower and a small room with a sofa which opened out into a bed, ostensibly for guests, though you hadn't had any for years. "You can get yourself cleaned up here. Any clothes you want to wash, you can do in the morning. There's no door to this room, so the only privacy you'll get is in the bathroom I'm afraid."

"This is...fantastic," he said in a low tone. "I've slept outside for a week or more, so this is just...Thank you ma'am," he finished, humbly. You left him to it and went to prepare him a plate of leftovers. When he finally emerged, scrubbed and fresh half an hour later, you bid him sit at the table and presented him with it. Without all that dirt streaking him and without his cap on you could finally see how good he looked and you had to tear your eyes away from the fullness of his lips before you went too far down that rabbit hole. The man was clearly desperate, hanging on to the shreds of the dignity of his old life by his fingertips. There was no way you were going to make him feel like he owed you anything by taking him in. You left him be until you heard him hum with satiated pleasure about ten minutes later.

"Better?" you asked.

"Better," he smiled.

"I see you've made a friend," you said wryly, gesturing to the large hairy head currently resting on one of his feet. You trusted your gut about this man, you didn't imagine him to be anything than he had said he was. But you had to be cautious for obvious reasons. The dog, however, had proved to be a truly excellent judge of character in the past and it warmed you to see her take to him so readily.

"I think I may have bribed my way into her affections. Chicken," he clarified.

"That'll do it," you smiled. He insisted on washing his own plate and then there was an awkward silence between you for a time as he stood in your living room, not really knowing what to do with himself. "Hey, you can sit and watch TV with me, or you can hit your bed if you want. I won't be offended either way."

"I...I think I will go to bed. I'm kinda lookin' forward to it."

"I can understand that," you said as you handed him pillows, blankets and fresh sheets to make it up with. "Just so you know, the dog sleeps down here too. She shouldn't wake you. And help yourself to water in the night, coffee in the morning. Whatever you want."

"Thank you," he said again, his eyes catching yours and looking happier than you had seen them thus far. "Goodnight."

The man worked like a machine. Having lived this life for many years, you were accustomed to being up before dawn, but he beat you to it the next morning, greeting you with a soft "Good morning," and handing you a cup of coffee that he had prepared. He kept up a pace all day, and you moved around each other around the farm, lifting your hands or voices in greeting when you passed. You couldn't help but notice how the soft cotton of his shirt creaked at the seams when he moved his broad shoulders, nor how deft his hands were at every task he set them to. The dog had begun to follow him everywhere and you found yourself liking that too, despite the mild sting of betrayal. He came in to help with lunch and after he washed up, set to chopping salad and buttering bread.

"This is gonna sound weird, but erm...your dog...she ain't partly deaf or anything is she?"

"No, why?"

"Its just, she comes when I whistle, but not when I call."

"Ohhh," you said, realisation hitting you like a wave. "Yeah, well, last night I might not have told you her proper name. I er...I wanted to make her seem a little more intimidating than she is. Just in case, you know. Hence Tank. Though she ruined that when she drooled all over your shoes." He gave a small chuckle, his eyes sparkling.

"So what is her name?"

"Cookie." At this, you heard the tell tale sound of Cookie's claws on the kitchen tiles. "Good girl," you threw over your shoulder at her.

"Well, that suits her a lot better'n Tank. She's so friendly."

"Only to the good ones. You should have seen her with the last man that came in here. She knew he was a wrong 'un. Took me a while to catch on, but I get there in the end." You turned your head to find him looking at you with sympathy and a touch of anger. "Like I said, I can take care of myself," you added and moved on with your day. In his first week staying with you he managed to do most of the little jobs that had been irritating, but not bad enough to address. The tap in the kitchen no longer dripped. All of the fencing was entirely without holes for the first time in forever. The roof of the chicken coop was renewed. You decided to celebrate by breaking out some beers in the evening and sat with him on your porch, watching the sky slowly turn from gold to apricot to scarlet. Once he had started to feel less awkward around you, you found him to be good company - intelligent and curious and with a good sense of humour and even your silences were now companionable, especially a few beers in.

"Need to plant some more things in the garden," he grunted, slurring a little. "Maybe some beets and some radishes?"

"That sounds good," you agreed, "but for tonight, just switch off a bit. Enjoy the beer and the view. You've more than earned it."

"Oh, I'm enjoyin' the view alright," he said. There was something low and sinful in his voice that made you turn your head to him in astonishment and definite interest, but as you did, his eyes grew wide and he started to splutter. "Oh God, I apologise. I haven't had a beer in months and I guess my tolerance ain't what it was. I...I didn't mean to offend. I didn't mean to say that."

"Didn't you?"

"No, I-I'm sorry." Putting your beer down, you came to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his knees and running them up his thighs.

"Are you sure you didn't mean it?" And suddenly the realisation of your own drunkenness came crashing around you. What were you thinking? You couldn't take advantage of him like this. He had nowhere else to go and he had said he wasn't interested. You straightened abruptly. "No, I'm sorry. This is wrong. I'm...I'm going to bed." And you did so, walking swiftly away before he could see the redness of your face.

The next morning, your coffee lay on the counter and you could see him outside the house pottering around. Berating yourself for an idiot for ruining the good feelings you had built up between you, you went about your own tasks in a crotchety mood. He didn't come in for lunch either, and you began to get a little worried about him. Deciding to tackle the problem head on, you brought him out a Tupperware with some food and some water. Eventually you found him in the barn, measuring some of the beams. He hadn't noticed you come in and you stood and openly stared for a moment at the sight of him with no shirt on under his overalls. It was pretty warm in here - you were starting to feel the effects yourself. His back was broad and muscular and his shoulder muscles rolled as you watched him reach up to measure something above him.

"Er...hi," you ventured, a little shyly. He whirled to face you, looking as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just thought you might want some lunch." You deposited it on the hay bale closest to you and carried on, keeping your voice light, "And to say that I'm sorry about yesterday. You said no and I shouldn't have pushed it. I don't want you thinking you have to do anything like that to stay here!"

"Thank you," he said softly as he made his way over to you. "But..I said no because we had both been drinkin' and because I didn't wanna take advantage of anythin' I wasn't bein' offered freely and honestly." His eyes raked over your face, black and piercing in the half light inside the barn. He was so close to you, you could smell the lemon scent of his soap and the musky smell of him underneath. There was a sheen of sweat across his chest and before you could stop yourself or think too deeply about what you were doing, your hands were upon him, feeling the taut, strong muscles of his pectorals. You bit your lip a little as you raised your eyes to his.

"You're not taking advantage," you whispered. "I want this." That was all the invitation he needed to crash his lips upon yours with a fervent desire. His big hands circled your waist and roved your back as his tongue begged entrance at your mouth. Your own hand moved down his overalls to where he was starting to bulge, massaging his length and making him moan into your mouth.

"Christ, I...I've not been with anyone for so long. That feels so good, don't stop." You heeded him, but also brought one of his hands from around your back to your breast where he began to knead it intensely and he groaned again, in between peppering your mouth and neck with kisses. "Fuck, you're so pretty. I thought so from th' first moment I saw you. I didn't know how to say..." For someone usually so reticent, he was on a roll now he had your tit in his hand and you were palming him through his overalls.

You snaked your hands up his body again and undid his overalls, letting them fall and pool around his feet where they landed. His body was gorgeous, broad and muscular with a little fuzz over his chest and running down his stomach. You ran your hands all over it, feeling the slickness of the sweat beading through his hair under your hands and feeling your own body begin to heat and respond in earnest, your clit throbbing a little between your legs. He kicked off his boots, and took off his socks and overalls in one swoop before taking you back in his arms and kissing you ardently again. His hand slid up your shirt and hiked it up, the sweat at your back making it stick to you a little. You broke the kiss to hurl it from your head and away, closely followed by your bra.

"Oh fuck baby, your tits are so beautiful. Lemmie taste you." He got on his knees in front of you and did just that, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking on it harshly whilst rubbing your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Exhaling a moan of pleasure, you tangled your fingers into his dark waves and pulled him even closer, feeling his smile against your chest as his free hand undid the buttons on your jeans. You could feel the wetness in your underwear now, the telltale stripe of moisture under your cunt as he coaxed that sweet feeling all through your veins with his tongue and fingers on your nipple.

"I want you to fuck me," you gasped. "Need you to fuck me hard."

"Oh don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you," he murmured against your skin as he pulled the material down your legs. "Fuck, you're so wet already. I can see it on your panties. I wanna taste you there too. Can I?" His big dark eyes looked up at you with pleading and what you would have called innocence had he not already been flicking his tongue back over your nipple, making you squirm and huff with the pleasurable tickle of it. In reply you pulled the rest of your clothes away from you, but before he could reach his prize you took his jaw in your hand and brought his head up to look at you. He was instantly attentive and alert, looking slightly worried, as If you might have changed your mind in the few seconds it had taken for you to remove your clothes.

"You can taste me, if I can taste you afterwards," you offered.

"Hell yeah you can," he muttered appreciatively as he got to his feet and lifted you on to a haybale. The straw poked you roughly and mercilessly, but you forgot about that when he leaned over you and kissed you deeply again. "Gonna make you feel real good, honey," he promised again before kissing a path downward. He hooked your legs over his biceps and ran his forearms up to your breasts, teasing your nipples again before diving right in to lick warm, wide stripes from your cunt to your clit. It had been so long since anyone had been intimate with you, your head felt dizzy and overwhelmed, but he took it to another level with the enthusiasm he brought to the task. He lapped at you and what you were leaking as if he were a man starved, pushing his face into you, so you could feel his patchy stubble rub against your inner thighs, and sucking gently on your clit. It took an embarrassingly short time before your breaths came stunted and your voice rose in a wail of pleasure as he drove you to your peak, the red hot lava of it flowing from your core throughout your body. He ripped a second from you when he pushed two thick fingers inside and curled them wonderfully to strike against that part inside you that you yourself could never reach. His eyes glittered with lust as you came down from your high and you swore you could come again just from the look he was giving you from between your legs. He kissed your inner thighs and wiped his mouth as he came in for another kiss, your taste all over his tongue and lips.

"Your turn." you announced breathlessly, as you got down from the bale on shaky legs. Not breaking eye contact, you knelt in front of him, the straw on the floor not much of a cushion for your knees. He moaned loudly as you raked your nails down his side, catching them on the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free and bob up toward his stomach. You had felt that he was well endowed, but seeing him was something else entirely and you couldn't help the hum of appreciation that escaped you before you leaned forward kissed the reddened tip, his precum brushing over your lips. You looked up at him as you licked it off and could see his breaths coming heavy and wild, his shoulders and chest heaving in anticipation. His hands came around to tangle in your hair as you licked a swirl over his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking gently whilst moving down his shaft.

"Fuck, baby. You're so good. C-can I move?" You brought your hands around to the firmness of his ass and moved him forward a little to give him permission and saw his head roll back in pleasure. He seemed to not want to hurt you and fucked your mouth much more gently than you thought he would. Your head bobbed further and further down his shaft until he was striking the back of it, making you gag a little. Raising yourself back off, you pumped him with your hand while swirling your tongue over his tender head. When you brought your other hand to cradle his balls he trembled a little under your touch. "Honey, I do not want you to stop, but if you don't I won't be able to fuck you before I come." You removed your mouth from him slowly, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard as you progressed.

He helped you to your feet and reached down to stroke your clit again while he kissed your lips, the taste of you both mingling in your mouths. Turning your back to him you bent over the hay bale, presenting yourself to him and you heard a guttural sound of arousal behind you before the head of his cock was notching at your entrance and pushing in all at once, stretching you and making you whimper as he bent over your back and kissed your shoulder. "Are you ok, baby?" he muttered. "Does this feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered. "Now fuck me hard."

He bit down a little on the meat of your shoulder and whispered a low "Yes, Ma'am," before standing fully and beginning to piston his hips into you with forceful, firm strokes, his cock pushing further within you each time. It was overwhelming and even more so when he pushed down on your back further so that he was fucking down into you and sliding over your spot with each thrust. The change in pitch of your gasping moans and the wetness that you could suddenly feel around the tops of your thighs encouraged him to fuck you even harder, his cock swelling as he got close to his release and filling you up beautifully. "Like that, honey? Right there?" he grunted as you started to feel yourself lose control around him.

"Yes, there, please, don't stop, please," you begged. He captured your arms and pulled you further back toward him, and suddenly he was striking something white hot and golden inside and you were gone, your cunt pulsating around him and flooding him with you. Your head was so dizzied that you only noticed he had pulled you flush against his sweat-sticky chest when his arms were around you, grasping greedily at your breasts and the hot breath of his rich, deep voice was beside your ear.

"Where-"

"inside." He drove into you half a dozen more times before he cried your name aloud and you felt him pulsate strongly within you, jettisoning his spend into you with groans muffled against your shoulder. As he withdrew, he held you up gently before turning you and lying you on the bale he had just taken you over, coming to lie down beside you with his big eyes searching your face and his big calloused hands stroking the soft skin of your belly. The sweet summer sun was slanting over his face, turning his black eyes amber in its glow and you felt a welcome twinge in your heart as you took his face in your hand and kissed him.

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon back again. Heads up im going to be busy for the next week about so it may be a bit til I submit my next bit. I'll try to get something in though! Even if its just a bunch of incorrect quotes I have stored up or songs that inspired the story (or if you have questions you haven't been able to ask you can ask those, literally any question is fine).

1: Not particularly, but it does give him an advantage in everything basically. Cause he was taught how to survive in many different areas (like treating wounds and how to survive in a tundra when you have nothing), this teaching is what allowed him to live alone for 4 years, and is what gives him a strong advantage in the Pit because he's almost fully trained in fighting and has many different tactics for multiple scenarios. Ranbob was distraught and was sent into a depressive episode when he discovered that, almost his entire family was dead, and got even more distraught and sent into a state of hysteria when he found out he was the one who killed them. He acted much the same when he found out he killed his friends, Ran's friends, and every single mentor and leader that was there. Knowing full well he may of very well doomed Mizu, if anyone was still left alive of course. 

2: Grievous remained salty for the rest of the day, and showed distaste in Ranbob as well. But the day after Grievous was back to being friends with and gently pranking Ranbob, forgiving him for yesterday's accident.

3: Eh? It depends I'll say. For life threatening situations and stressful situations, yes definitely. He doesnt last long before breaking down and begging Benjamin for help. But if its something like getting everyone to work toghere, giving directions, stopping fights, or even making calls in a very important decision, he doesnt get overwhelmed too easily. Benjamin is basically the co-leader of the group, only really leading when Isaac is unable too. 

5: Yep! Just cause this is a mythical and fake world doesnt mean there can't be some real world attributes. Im trying to keep it mythical but also use real world functions and trying to show the change/mix in times (like how while some of the world is machinery and its slowly gaining popularity, it's still mostly midevil based)

7: If the person is in the arena he gets revenge. Though sadly he can't get it outside cause last time he did that he got banned from fighting for a month. But if he sees one of the people who made fun of Jackie in the arena he makes sure to go hard to them, pushing them to their limit, but not pushing hard enough to make them lose if that makes sense. He makes sure to fight in a way that's draining and causing pain for the person, but not draining enough to make the round end so he can drag it on until the person collapses. 

8: He does! He's kept all of his books from his adventures and sometimes re-reads them to make sure he doesnt forget anything. And sometimes if the others beg, he reads them outloud to the group as a sort of bedtime story. He goes wack, he wacks Jackie when he's being a little shit, he wacks Grievous after a prank, he wacks Genevieve when she brakes a training dummy, he wacks Levi especially hard when he gives Jackie alcohol after he specifically told him not too. He watched the dressmaker, baker, farmer, fletcher, cleric, cartographer, and butcher! He learned all tricks of the trade and learned how to properly make clothes, map maps, how to take care of animals and what certain animals need, how to cook anything basically, how to harvest and preserve food, and how to make arrows and the basic necessities for a bow. 

Ran does not necessarily make them often, he mostly only wrote them down so he wouldn't accidentally brew a potion of poison and drink it thinking it was a healing potion. Its considered no longer necessary to go into the nether, as the only thing really needed is netherwart and building supplies, but the building supplies are very rarely needed and every major city has a netherwart farm. Also cause I wanna add it, no one knows about netherite. Only a few adventures know about it but consider it a hoax, it's only Rans netherite sword that actually proves that it does exist. I actually wasnt planning on it at first but now definitely, I could do a lot of things with them in the SMP grounds. Weeks, it takes weeks for Ran to decide their ready. Because they need to pass whats basically tests about mobs of the nether and their habits, mine plenty of gold, learn about what to and what not to do around Piglins, learn about bastions and fortresses and areas to completely avoid, learn to be able to take multiple mobs on at once, and be able to withstand the heat there. Watson tries to get Ran to lighten up on the requirements but Ran is firmly sticking his ground and Watson ends up giving up and letting Ran do whatever. Though even with all of Rans training their not completely ready for the nether. The fishermen originally refuse to go through, but eventually go through, mostly to make sure Ranbob is safe, and because Cletus wouldn't stop whining about going. 

10: I am very tempted to add angst here because their fighting against Dream after all. But I've made a lot of angst so far so I'll only do it if you want me too. 

12: He does end up stepping in! He goes to Ranbob one night and says how he's noticed he's been stressed and always sad and asks how he can help. Ranbob brushes him off at first but is debating going to him again and asking for help one last time.

13: Yeah he's like a final boss. When you fight as a General your allowed to use your own personal weapons and whatever tricks or tactics you want, along with 3 potions of your choice. While when fighting as a typical gladiator, you have to use the weapons supplied (although unless specifically stated you can use any weapon given at any time), and have to use tatics and tricks specifically allowed in the rules. Though there are 2 more titles! Sergeant and Corporal. Ran and Watson are both Sergeants, they get to use personal weapons and mostly any tactic and tricks they want too. While Grievous is a Corporal and only gets to use his personal weapons. 

14: Yep! The whispers disappeared gradually the futher away they got from Mizu, and even while he was moving away from Mizu Dream was asking, almost begging him at the end, to come back to Mizu. Saying how the futher Ranbob gets the lonier and colder he feels, and how he's sorrh, trying to guilt trip him into coming back to Mizu, or at least coming closer again. 

15: It is!

1: Huh. What kind of things would people learn if they chose other idols, exactly? Also, ouch. Why do I keep asking questions I know will hurt me later on?

2: Gently pranking. I applaud his restraint. Is that how Grievous forgives people? Gently pranking them? Just joking with them in general. Also, who laughed at that little situation?

3: So Isaac’s good with everyday things, not so much high stress situations. Gotcha. Is there a reason Benjamin is able to remain calm where he can’t? Practice, experience, personality trait?

5: Very cool. Can’t wait to see what else you do with that, honestly.

7: Petty. I love it. 

8: Aww, adventure bedtime stories! Also, him wacking people is so funny to me, thank you for that. And Levi gave Jackie alcohol? How did that go down? Did Jackie get drunk, or did Watson manage to keep them from drinking it? Watson sounds like he could probably establish a small village if he so chose, and honestly, good for him.

Dang. Does this mean like, everything from the Smp has been lost? So many of them had netherite armor and stuff, what happened there for people to not even know it’s a thing anymore? What happened in general, for so much of the past to be lost to history? How does their little Nether trip go? Anyone get hurt? Are piglin tribes around to trade with? Do they find anything cool, like a fortress or bastion?

10: It’s your AU, do what you will. I’m going to read it regardless, because for some reason, I enjoy breaking my heart like that(and the AU in general). Just give us some bonus hurt/comfort if you do, please? Just a smidge?

12: One last time? What does that mean, exactly? Should I be concerned?

13: Huh. So how many people know that Jackie’s the General? What kind of status does it give him? And how many people have managed to beat him when he fights all out? Would you say he and Ran are on par? How about him and Watson? And do the Sergeants and Corporals fight before the General, as like, mini bosses?

14:Oh no. Did it ever cause Ranbob to try and go back to him toward the end, or did the Fishermen manage to distract him long enough to get away from the whispers just about completely?

15: Yay!

[nylaaaaa]

Little Secret

Chapter 1. Your Secret Is Safe With Me

Name and Surname: Natalie Fleur Estelle

Sex: Female

Date of Birth: 19th August 1692

Place ( Registration 

of      < District                     Cynthell

Birth  ( Sub-District

_________________________________________

"Here's the birth certificate. It has nothing about her parents on it as you suggested." I gave the man standing beside me, who had grown to be a brother to me, a quick, but satisfied, grunt of approval. 

"Thank you. Keep this between us and I'll keep up my end of the deal." Quintin gave me a questioning side glance. I knew he didn't appreciate me bringing up the past but I needed him to keep this between us.

"I don't see why you won't be honest to her. For all we know she might be like you..." I knew what he was suggesting, but I refused to listen. She won't be like me. She can't be like me. I waved him away, annoyance clear as day across my face. He will be annoyed too. We both have secrets. I just don't know whose is worth more.

_________________________________________

Today....

Today is possibly the worst day I'll have in my life. I'm honestly not sure. 

Today I officially turn 18 which, unluckily for me, means I have to add another thing to my job description.

Isaieth adopted me when I was born because my father died and it caused my mum to become a drunk. I don't exactly blame her for leaving and forgetting her troubles with a drink. But I also can't say I'm fond of it. I love Isaieth with all my heart, he feels like an actual father to me. But I sometimes wish I had an actual mother to help me grow as well.

When I was born my father died. No one told me how, I just know it was traumatic enough to make my mother a drunk. Isaieth adopted me when I was 2 after he had an accident that caused him to be deaf and partially blind. He wasn't fit for work anymore so the second I turned an age where I can go to the toilet by myself he taught me how to tend his farm. He makes a business by selling wheat that he grows and whatever we can get from the few animals we own. When I was 16 I found an abandoned lamb who we later discovered was a merino sheep. Merino sheep are, in my opinion, the best sheep you can get. Their carcasses are smaller than the average sheep so they aren't used for meat but rather for the wool that they grow. The average amount of wool the sheep grows is 11kg which is enough for about 11 sweaters. Aswell as the sheep we have 2 chickens, both of which are female. They were actually, in some ways, a gift from the king. The king and Isaieth are best friends almost from birth. They both grew up in royalty but only the king kept it that way. Isaieth was the son of a knight, and so in turn, Isaieth was also a knight. The king was born a prince and then was assigned a knight who happened to be Isaieth. One of the times when Isaieth was protecting the king he ended up getting seriously injured and the king fired him for his own safety. The king doesn't exactly care for the knight's wellbeing but because they were friends he decided a knight was too dangerous for Isaieth. After the event the king offered him a plot of land on the outskirts of the city that was run down and abandoned but had potential for a farm. Isaieth's dream as a boy was to grow old and have his own farm, so like any friend the king got him his own farm. Because of the friendship and countless times Isaieth saved his life our rent was greatly reduced and we were offered a permanent job to make sure we always had the money to pay rent. The job included selling off our produce from the animals. The eggs given to Isaieth was originally just starter food but Isaieth decided to keep them and let them hatch instead. When they grew to be quite old he kept a few of the last eggs they would hatch and did the same thing. The hens we have now are 1 years old, or will be in a few days. We don't get much from our farm but because of the discount on rent sometimes we have enough money to spare to get nice things. The average price of rent can go up to 100 gold.

(100 gold is like 1k, the money in this story is, bronze= pence or cents or whatever is the lowest in your country, silver= pounds or dollars etc and gold= the hundreds +. In simpler terms, but in GBP ((Great British Pounds)) terms, 1 bronze= 1 pence, 1 silver= 1 pound and 1 gold= 100 pound.)

Ours however got put down to 45 gold. It's still a lot that we just about make each month but we're still thankful that he even gave us this place to begin with. He didn't actually have to.

It's also lucky that our farm works well with rent times. Each month you have to go to the castle and pay your rent. If you dont have enough or you skip it they go to your house and either take a child, that becomes their servent who has to work for the money you didn't pay, or they take some belongings that you don't get back unless you pay extra. Luckily we've never seen it first hand but one of my childhood friends ended up becoming a servent from it. I haven't seen her since. Our wheat takes a month to grow so we've always got that to keep our money up. Unfortunately wheat sells cheap, one wheat grain sells for 30 bronze. Every month we grow, on average, 700 wheat grains but have to keep back 350 to replant so we can get 350 the next month too. So on average every month with wheat alone we make 10 gold and 5 silver. Which by itself is almost a quarter of our rent. Replanting and harvesting wheat is one of the most tedious jobs of farming, but maintaining is by far the easiest. You only have to water the plant at most once in summer but otherwise never. All you really have to do is make sure the plant isn't dying and be on your way. The worst job I have is turning the sheeps pelt into wool. She doesn't like to be milked so doing that is an annoyance but I dread making wool the most out of all the farm jobs I have. Next to maintaining the crop the hens are the easiest too. They lay at least one egg everyday, the only thing I have to do is collect the eggs without breaking them and make sure the hens are well fed and have fresh air. With making wool you have to flatten the pelt completely and then tie the strands together to make a really long piece of wool that I have to cut and ball up. It's the worst job on the entire farm but I can't say I hate doing it. My favourite thing is balling it all up after dying it. I'm just thankful all these things take a month to do or we'd be screwed on rent every month.

(Realistically these don't actually take a month, I researched so much to make the story as legit as possible but for story sake I tweaked the timing. Hens do lay one egg a day at least, if properly cared for and also depending on breed. But wheat takes a LOT longer to grow and you can only shave a sheep once a year. I changed the timing of it all tho or I'd have to be even more creative with money and stuff and tbh I'd rather not. Coming up with these ideas for the farm was hard enough.)

On average you get 2 balls of yarn out of 1kg of wool. Luckily for us our merino sheep produces 11kg of wool giving us 22 balls of yarn. 1 ball of yarn sells for 1 gold, so for 22 balls of yarn we make 22 gold. Personally I think it's extremely expensive but it does make sense considering there aren't many sheep around, which also means clothes, blankets and shoes are harder to get. On average with the hens we get 2 eggs a day. 1 egg sells for 25 silver, meaning the 2 we make in a day gives us 50 silver. There's 28 days in a month meaning with eggs alone we make 14 gold. Altogether in one month we usually make roughly 46 gold. As good of an amount as that is, 45 of it has to go to the king, leaving us with roughly 1 gold left. Because we're human and need to eat, bathe and clothe ourselves just like everyone else, whatever's left gets spent on stuff like that. On average every month we spend about 50 silver on food. I have my own plant pots in my room that we use for our own food. There's only 2 of them but in one plant pot I grow strawberries and in the other I grow raspberries. Truth be told if I sold the strawberries and raspberries we'd probably be richer but honestly, we're both kinda used to this life and although we don't have everything we want, we have everything we need. Besides the fruits take 2 months to grow and because of my reputation people would refuse to buy them for their actual price. They just about accept the other things, if fruits were in the mix I'd probably get death glares and 1 bronze for a batch. It doesn't bother me too much though because with whatever odd bit of wheat we had spare from the 700 odd we plant and sell we use that to make bread or pastry, so every 2 months we make the fruits into a jam or crush them and make a pie. My all time favourite activity is making them into pies or bread and jam with Isaieth. It's the only thing we can properly do together. He helps me replant and harvest the wheat sometimes because there's so much of it but usually he just watches from afar. His eye sight is getting worse the older he gets so he helps less and less. It saddens me because I know he doesn't want to go fully blind, we wouldn't be able to communicate at all and what kind of life are you living if you can't see or hear anything. You might as well be dead at that point or you'd be so throughly confused. 

Getting back on track. Today is a bad day because it's the first day where I have to pay for the rent. I've been a few times with Isaieth as a child but I've never gone alone. It's an adults job and should only be done by an adult. But today, aswell as being my birthday, it's also rent day. Isaieth didn't actually want me to do it but I insisted knowing that he would have severe trouble doing it himself. And what's more is that I have to go alone to sell our produce now aswell. I don't put any blame on him and I especially will never complain. But in my head I can feel bitter about the situation. 

I look forward to the day.....

...

No I don't. 

[yay855]

That's not even really an exaggeration. Gruel is just slightly thinner porrige, literally just hot cereal no different from oatmeal. And in fact, ground oats were one of the staples for gruel. The only reason gruel is associated with poverty while hot cereal isn't is because of the wealthy deeming anything less than the softest of breads and fattest of meats to be beneath them, and much of our interpretation of medieval and victorian culture comes from the lens of those wealthy enough to be fully literate at the time.

You are living worse than your ancestors, in fact. Yes, you have a car and a smartphone, but those are necessary tools for work, and you can't get a job without one; your ancestors had pitchforks and scythes that they could turn into weapons in a pinch, it doesn't mean that they were soldiers. Meanwhile, I haven't met anyone under forty who owns their own home who didn't either get ridiculously lucky or was born into wealth, and most young adults these days have no choice but to work three to four times as much as your peasant ancestors just to make ends meet.

Oh, that's right- something that capitalists don't like to tell you is that medieval peasants worked, on average, 20 hours a week. It's true that they often worked longer hours... during the harvest season. Outside of that, peasants rarely had to work more than a few hours a day. The stereotypical farm chores you see kids being saddled with in books and such was normal, but the thing is, those chores were divided up amongst multiple families with half a dozen kids each. The kids and adults each did their chores and then had the rest of the day to relax and have fun.

You, meanwhile, are worked to the bone for forty hours a day minimum (and far more than that if you work in food service or retail) and come home too exhausted to actually have fun. And your kids (should you have any) are put through near-constant "education" that is founded on rote memorization and demands they work as long as you do, except they don't even get paid for it- in fact, you have to spend money to keep them in school, not just in taxes but also in supplies and fees and so on, and if you can't afford to give your kid pencils, then they either are punished for something they have no control over or the teachers (who are also being paid jack shit) have to pay for it out of their own pockets.

You are literally worse off than your peasant ancestors.

[traceemerald]

This will probably be the last entry in my magician's war diary, details are at the end.

-March 26th, Magician's War Diary, Entry 3-

Current scores are 0-0.

My rival and I should probably join our factions soon, or else the scores will likely remain at 0-0 for quite a while.

That being said, I won't join my faction before I'm ready to.

Anyway, can't write during the play session, so here's a recap of what happened.

First thing I did was make a lesser break ring, so now my Break spell is no longer weaker than an iron pickaxe, I don't think I'll need enough obsidian to warrant making a greater break ring.

Next, I tried exploring the nether to search for a fortress, but didn't find one.

My rival entered the nether for the first time while I was heading back home, but his portal somehow linked up to mine.

Since he still had a bad omen from last time, he couldn't head back without risking starting a raid at the village I set up close to (looking back on that, I think I had set up far enough away to not trigger a raid).

When I returned to the overworld, I found out that the one portal in the nether consistently lead to my rival's portal, though I put a milk bucket outside the nether side of the portal just to be safe, we had both forgotten the existence of dispel cantrips.

After returning home, I wanted to make a crystal of memories, since they're very cheap, and fairly useful, but I needed to sell some paper to the village's librarian to get an emerald first.

The librarian had converted to a cartographer at some point, I don't know when, but he still had a paper trade available, so that didn't change anything.

At this point (I think it was at this point), the server ended up needing to be restarted, so that gave me some time to write, but not enough time to write all the events up to the server restart.

After the server restart, I didn't get another chance to write until the play session was over, and I did enough things that I'm starting to forget exactly what order I did the things in.

Anyway, made a practitioner's pouch, which is basically the new version of ritual kits.

I wanted to make a Projectile - Fire Damage spell after that, but that requires a total of 8 string (for a bow, crossbow, and dispenser), and I've been having trouble getting string since my rival and I have been sleeping through most nights, and spiders don't seem to spawn very frequently.

My solution was to go to the nether and hunt striders, which worked very well, and I got the string I needed very quickly.

After making the spell, I was going to put a Damage modifier on it so I could complete one of the tasks for advancing to tier 3, but the ritual of alteration requires a book of alteration, which requires 1 infused thread, which I couldn't find a crafting recipe for in the codex.

I decided to give up on that and instead go mining for chimerite so I can make a mana crystal.

Crafting a mana crystal also requires a mote of magic, which can only be created near bookshelves, so I made a ring of silk so I can use my break spell to harvest bookshelves from the village's mage tower.

After making a mote of magic and using it to craft a mana crystal, I only had to do 1 more task before I could advance to tier 3, so I made a coal print of a spare construct frame piece, so the only thing I have before tier 3 is gathering the materials needed for my faction's ritual.

I'm not going to be joining the fey this time, instead I'll be joining the demons, though I'd like to move to the nether before I do that.

I haven't actually made a nether base before, but I have a feeling I'll have to go back to the overworld a lot.

Anyway, that's it for this play session, scores are still 0-0, neither of us have joined our factions yet.

Also, this will probably be the last entry to this diary, I haven't lost interest in the world, I just won't be able to write about it due to the pacing being different from my singleplayer world.

I can't write during the play session because I'm afraid I won't be able to keep up with my rival, and I don't really enjoy waiting until the session is over to write about what happened during it.

Besides, once both my rival and I have joined our factions, things are going to get more combat-oriented, and combat wouldn't really translate well to the format I'm using.

-End Diary Entry 3-

[anarchmalk]

so you think it would be used to increase the labor force?

that would still rely on reconnecting the spinal cord. bodies of head transplant patients are still paraplegic, which doesn't garner much use for the workforce (in capitalist terms) but that's not to say that's not a life worth living. if they're happy to be alive in that state, then I'm glad they have the option.

beating heart cadavers are still a useful resource, whether or not we've found more techniques to harvest organs. with the scarcity of said organs, we need absolutely anything we can get.

a beating heart cadaver means organically preserved organs. the body is by all rights between living and dead, it's parts kept alive by an artificial respirator, which requires far fewer resources

but again, totally getting off topic here.

i guess I kinda figured out my answer. the rich may think they deserve it, but haven't they already lived their lives off enough bodies?

i would like to talk about it though. the procedure isn't a theory, head transplants are in early stages, the last successful attempt being in the mid-60's on a rhesus monkey (separate ethics conversation).

the head was entirely cognizant (and bitey)

the ethics conversation here is that for something like this to prolong an elderly person's life to be done, it would be an expensive procedure. millionaire or even billionaire expensive. this poses that it would specifically be for the wealthy elite.

healthy beating heart cadavers are hard to find, and they're an incredibly useful resource for healthy organ transplants, because the organs haven't been off life support for nearly as long between harvesting and surgery.

the list for organ transplants is disastrously long. many people, children included, pass away well before their turn.

that's what makes it a conundrum, only on a technicality. medical science has already prolonged lives, and I think that's a beautiful thing. and I believe that the elderly are just as rightful to it as the young infirm.

the question is, what gives the right to the wealthy elite to take that from the many? a beating heart cadaver's organs can save multiple lives, while a head transplant on said body would only save one.

edit: side note, the monkey did die after only 3 days