#that might change once the second set of dice I ordered comes

[anonymous-harpy]

ONE OF THEM CAME

[splish--splash--minecraft]

Scarian snippet - Pizza AU

I wasn't expecting to get that much attention on the scarian bit I wrote earlier, so I've decided to post some more writing! This one is for an au I've been working on recently that I have dubbed the pizza AU. That'll make sense in a moment.

It's a college/university AU, though that doesn't come into play all that much until later. It's also an AU in which Grian works at a pizza place and Scar comes in every week with the most ridiculous and outlandish orders. Hence the AU name.

I've no clue when it'll be finished as I can be a slow writer at the best of times (and seeing as I did recently get a job - at a pizza place! - this is not the best of times as it's taking up a lot of my free time) and since this will also be a one-shot (I rarely trust myself with multichap fics), it might be a while. I'll try to keep y'all updated though. So, y'know, if you're interested...maybe drop a follow? Thanks <3

Anyway, without further ado...the snippet. That is almost 1k words. Oops?

Grian sighed when the phone rang. He knew, without looking, that it was 1AM. 

It only rang for a moment before Grian picked it up, just to get this over with. “Hello, this is Pizza Paraslice, what can I get for you?”

“Hi! Okay, can I get a large with parmesan garlic sauce, mozzarella and asiago cheese, jalapenos and diced boneless chicken, with a ranch drizzle? Thanks!”

Grian’s eyes closed as he let out a sigh as he took in the order. “Mmhm. Name for your order?”

“Scar!”

“And would you like pickup or delivery?

“Pickup, please!”

Grian didn’t know why he had to bother with asking Scar all that, since It was the same every time. Only the order was different. His boss had insisted though, so.

“Alright, that’ll be $21.59. How would you -”

“I’ll pay with cash there.”

“Okay, it’ll be ready in about 15 minutes.”

“See you then!”

The line clicked and Grian allowed himself to take a deep breath before looking down at the order he had entered into the POS system. Great. Another weird order from Scar.

He glanced at the one other person working at this time, rolling his eyes as they continued to stare at their phone even as the order counter dinged by the makeline, telling them they had an order. He dragged himself over to it and set about making the order.

Honestly, it wasn’t as weird as some of his other orders. The sauce was a little odd, sure, as was the ranch drizzle at the end, but he’d seen far weirder combinations, all courtesy of Scar. 

He let out a breath of relief once the pizza was in the oven and he could wash the jalapenos juices from his hands. He relaxed for a second, eyeing the board to make sure no more orders had come in. Honestly, Grian had no idea why Scar bothered calling every time. Most orders they got came in online, or a few people would even order there. But Scar always called for whatever reason. Grian never asked.

The door opened right as Grian got the pizza out of the oven to cut it. He didn’t have to look to know it was Scar. They didn’t have any other orders available for pickup, and very few people came in to order at this time of night. Plus, the sound of his cane against the tiled floors was sign enough that it was him.

Still, he peeked around the cutting table to see Scar looking around before smiling at him. “There’s my favorite person!”

Grian rolled his eyes with a huff. He always said that every time he came in. “I’m almost done with your pizza, give me a sec.”

“No worries, take your time. It’ll be amayzin anyway.”

Grian snorted. He wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t say anything, just dutifully cut the pizza and added the ranch drizzle. He closed the pizza box and walked around the cut table to where Scar stood behind the counter, cash in hand and wide grin directed his way.

Grian did his best to ignore him as he rang Scar up, taking the cash - in perfect amount, so he didn’t even need to get any change. With that done, he handed the pizza to Scar. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Your number?” Scar asked, hopeful.

Grian rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t stop the slight flush from creeping up his cheeks and the barest hint of a smile that tugged at his lips.

“Maybe next time,” he said, just as he did every time.

Scar clicked his tongue. “I thought for sure this would be the week. Oh well. See you next week!”

He turned around and left, holding the pizza with one hand and his cane in the other as he backed out of the door, waving the end of his cane at Grian briefly before he disappeared out of sight.

“Please just ask him out already. Or give him your number, at least.”

Grian jumped as his co-worker appeared behind him. He pressed his hand to his chest and let out a breath. “God, don’t scare me like that!”

“Ask the poor guy out then!”

“And why would I do that?” Grian asked, raising his eyebrow.

His co-worker groaned. “Dude, anyone can tell you’ve got a crush on him. And he has one on you! Every week he orders a pizza and then asks for your number. Are you ever actually going to give him it?”

“I definitely do not have a crush on him. He makes my Wednesdays miserable. You think I like making his stupid pizzas? And of course, you never help.”

“Eh, you got it. You do just fine with making pizzas for your not-crush.”

Grian groaned, thankful when they got some orders and he could go and make them instead of continuing this conversation he wanted nothing to do with.

He absolutely did not have a crush on Scar. In fact, he could barely stand the guy. He ordered the weirdest pizzas, and some of them were incredibly complicated. He made Grian dread the Wednesday shifts and had tried multiple times to get out of them, but they didn't have enough people that could work at that time so he was stuck with the shift.

And, sure, his face always heated up when Scar smiled at him and flirted with him, and he often couldn't prevent a small smile at it, but that didn't mean anything. Each time, he told himself it would finally be the time he told Scar to stop. 

He still hadn't, but it still didn't mean anything! He just…liked the attention, that's all. And sure, he flirted back a bit, but it was basically routine by this point.

He did not have a crush on Scar.

He didn't.

[dei2dei]

Ideas: Gotta Catch 'Em All!

(look, I know one whole Pokemon reference and I'm gonna use it.)

I was tossing around ideas with @calypsid about writing events and coming up with ideas and how to write for big events - in fandom, for the monthlong ones especially, but also if you're someone looking at submitting original fiction to a themed anthology or to a zine, or when you just want to WRITE dammit but the ideas won't come. When the idea hutch is empty and the plotbuns won't come, when the creative spring is trickling or you're at the bottom of the well of inspiration, hope is not lost. We put our heads together and came up with a baker's dozen ways to get ideas and look at prompts to get new inspiration when you need it. So if you want 'em, jump below the cut!

Stop looking at words.

Look at art! Listen to music! Maybe what you need is some song lyrics to get your brain going, or art. Play Sudoku. Go to a coffee shop and watch people. Change your mental or physical environment and see what happens.

Prompt lists

Don’t limit yourself to whatever event you’re writing for! If it’s for a fandom ship week, hit up a themed month prompt list (such as Fluffuary, AUgust, or Whumptober). If you’re trying to think of ideas for a zine pitch, trawl prompt lists from fandom or creative writing websites. Mash the TVTropes random trope button until something clicks.

Tarot spreads

Even if you don’t read tarot on your own, you can find websites where you can do tarot readings. Treat it as a story prompt generator: pick three cards, one that is your protagonist, one that is their goal, one that is their obstacle. Look up the meanings. Go wild! You can use the cards for protagonists, antagonists, story arcs…

Lists

Not prompt lists - but every idea you can think of adjacent to a prompt. Tropes, colors, sayings, characters, types (e.g. species of apple, types of wildflowers, names of cocktails)...

An alphabetical list with an idea for each letter of the alphabet.

A list of 20 ideas, as close or as absolutely wild as you want.

A timed list (write ideas for 5/10/15 minutes). The first chunk may be easy, the last few minutes impossibly hard, but right in the middle where your mind is starting to stretch? That may be perfect.

Once you have a list of any flavor, start looking for patterns: that’s a sign your brain is interested in SOMETHING. What ideas/symbols keep showing up?

Look for unexpected intersections

Ideas or prompts may have unexpected links. Randomize your list! Consider resonances between different prompts; they may seem different in a different order. Pick a not obvious combination of two prompts and follow it to the end - what if you put together “pirate” and “arranged marriage”? Use a wheel spinning picker and see what two things the computer matches up.

You can also take a pair of commonly-associated opposites, pick out their most common stereotypical traits. Now swap them. 

Play with other media

Take characters from one piece of media, the setting from a second (hey look, a fusion/AU!). What resonates between them? Grab a non-fiction book about a topic you’re interested in and read that. Ideas might percolate from a number of unrelated sources into one Super Cool Idea.

Change the setting

Turn a sci-fi show into a fantasy setting, or vice-versa. Add monsters. Add gods; add gods with reality-bending dice; add gods with reality-bending dice who are malicious. Flip your characters' genders. Remove the concept of gender entirely. Send your characters to the dimension next door, where only one thing has changed. Or many things. Or everything. Take the characters out of the plot of your fandom, or replace them with side characters; what changes?

Change your mind

Take the prompt at face value. Or, treat it sarcastically. Subvert the trope - or don't subvert the trope. Write the thing you've always wanted to see, even if you think it won't work. Turn everything about the prompt on its head and look underneath for spare ideas. Come at it from every angle you can think of.

Other people

Talk to people about the prompt. Read Reddit or Tumblr conversations, even ones only vaguely associated with the prompt. Let your mind go in new and interesting directions. 

Cool words

Have you run across an awesome word you wish you could use in a story, or a turn of phrase? Write a story around that. Or if you have a list of cool words you keep anyway, flip back to it, see if there are any that might come together in a story.

Titles

If you have a title you've always wanted to use, let the title inspire the fic instead of the other way around. 

First Sentences

Just start writing first sentences, whatever ones come to mind. Don’t be precious about them; the goal isn’t perfect sentences, the goal is something to get your brain moving. Don’t worry about continuing the story yet! Try and get a bunch down without writing any more of the story. If one speaks to you and demands to be written, go back to it after you’ve got your list down.

Deconstruct a story you love and then rebuild it!

Retell a favorite story (or a hated story you thought you could do better). How did they do X? Why did you love (or hate) something so much? Can you do that with some of your ideas? Take out the main character and their sidekick; how does the story read with just the secondary characters? What if you add someone new? How would the story look different as a documentary, a chatfic, an epistolary collection?

Some Links:

The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction (https://sf-encyclopedia.com/) - includes almost 15,000 entries for words associated with sci-fi. Scroll through, pick (3, 5, 7…) and shove them into a story. Or learn about new tropes/concepts/ideas.

Deep Water Prompts (https://deepwaterwritingprompts.tumblr.com/) - some Weird Prompts (several hundred) you can twist and interpret to your heart’s desire.

Kathleen Jennings’ short story “Some Ways to Retell a Fairy Tale” (https://www.tor.com/2023/11/08/some-ways-to-retell-a-fairy-tale-kathleen-jennings) is also a great list of ideas for ways to, well, retell any story.

[rosavulpes]

Happy birthday Ganyu !

With the sounds of his chopping knife filling the room as he ran the blade through grape vines , strawberries , blue berries , and more the day was nearly done for him ... but there remained one last task he needed to complete before returning home . 

Setting aside his assortment of diced fruits for the time being ,  he turned away from his cutting board for a just moment to look towards his hearth , he watched with a smile as the crust began to rise , solidifying with the flames .

The inner tart filling being watched especially closely to ensure it didn’t burn . 

It wouldn’t be much longer now until it was done , and with his fruits diced there was just enough time to add the finishing touch to one of his near completed fruit tarts . 

He’d seen this technique done before in the Wangming Restaurant and had practiced in replicating it whenever the opportunity arose . It was a means of adding a bit of extra flair to one’s pasty dishes , especially ones that relied heavily upon whipped cream . 

With a snap of his fingers , a flame would be born from his hand . Held upright , centered within the palm of his hand . Making use of a clean towel in order to avoid touching the pastry directly , he’d begin to rotate it . 

Holding the flame close as to allow the whipped cream to developed a bit of a light brown, golden crisp to the edges . His hands careful to not allow the flame to linger any longer than needed , knowing full well that even a second longer would turn his appetizing golden crisp into black charcoal . 

With the task done , Shuichi dispersed the flame with a dismissive wave of his hand . Three strawberries set atop as a finishing touch , almost appearing as through it were a crown . 

As the sweet scents in the air began to change , he knew that his final tart was done ! 

Retrieving the last of his fruit tarts with a wooden peel from the hearth , he smiled to himself as he set it down near his window to cool . Gathering the very last of his fruits , sanitizing his hands once more , and slowly , but surely creating a colorful arrangement out of his fruits . Presentation was equally as important as taste . 

As such , the petals of the Qingxin flower would be the final decorative ingredient for his sweet labors . 

Each of which was soon packed inside of a white cardboard box , as he made to leave for the day . 

With his paper umbrella covering his head , he stepped out of the doorway of his abode , locking the door with his key , and leaving his place of work to return to his home in the mountains just outside of liyue harbor . 

Walking in the rain , in a sea of oil umbrellas towards the ministry of civil affairs . That was where he suspected she might be at this time . 

Keeping his gift covered all the while until he was underneath the protective roof tiles of the building . Tipping his rice hat backwards until it rested comfortably against his upper back , held in place with a pink ribbon made to fashion it to his chin to hold it steady against the wind . 

“ Good evening ! I was hoping that I might leave these for Ms. Ganyu ! I was told it was her birthday today and I wanted to show my appreciation for all she’s done for us “ 

“ Oh ... my name ? My name is Shuichi Minamino . Ms. Ganyu was the one responsible for processing my application for an operating license to practice medicine here in the harbor . I’d heard that she worked well into the night to finish my application , among the many other’s assigned to her in just a single day . 

I couldn’t believe she’d gone to such effort to ensure such timeliness b-but I was also informed that such feats are normal for her . As such , I’d like to show my appreciation , however I’d like for you to not mention who I am . I’d like for Ms. Ganyu to see this gift as coming collectively from all the people of Liyue as opposed to just me . She certainly deserves such recognition from us all “ 

Passing his box of fruit tarts to the Millelith guard standing at front gates as he knew that there’d simply be no way he’d be allowed to deliver it in person . 

Bowing his head in thanks , he’d raise his rice hat back on to his head , tying the ribbon to the bottom of his chin , raising his umbrella to shied him , and reentered the sea of people . 

Vanishing among the waves of colorful umbrellas .... 

@capravulpes​

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

In a Heartbeat ~ Doctor!Bucky x Reader Oneshot

A/N: Title subject to change. This is a GIANT CONGRATULATIONS PRESENT for my fave Doctor!Bucky lover and yours @captainscanadian Because my girl finished undergrad today! Congrats, bby! Enjoy this doctor!bucky fluff that I said I would write a million years ago. ;) I'm so proud of you!!

Summary: What should have been a fun night out ends in the ER. At least your doctor is handsome?

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Injuries (fractured ankle), hospital, getting a cast, xrays and catscan. I think that's it. Fluff

Word Count: 2190

For the first hour of your stay in the ER you couldn’t decide if the constant beeping from the machine beside you was calming or irritating.

As it rolled into the second hour, you settled on irritating. You glared down at your ankle even though it was hidden under the blanket. You moved it ever so slightly, wincing as it caught on the sheet.

You unlocked your phone, letting your friends know that yes you were still here. And no you didn’t have any updates. And no they shouldn’t feel guilty.

A small part of you had blamed them in the first moments, after all they were the ones who convinced you to celebrate the end of finals with some drinking and dancing.

You checked your make up in the mirror next to your front door before locking up. You glanced at the door across the hall, hoping to catch the eye of your hunky neighbor before heading out. But no dice.

Oh well. At least your dress would likely be appreciated at the club. You’d even pulled out your comfy heels. Heels which were now mocking you from their spot on the chair next to your purse.

You’d been feeling good strutting down the stairs of your apartment building when a group of college kids who had clearly been pre-gaming, thundered past you, forcing you to press up against the wall. When you’d taken your next step your heel broke and you went sliding down 15 stairs.

You’d thought your ass had taken the worst of it until you tried to stand up and immediately cried out in pain.

So instead of ferrying you to a club, the Uber your friends arrived in took you to the hospital. You’d sent your friends on their way once you’d been processed and were waiting to be admitted. No need to spoil everyone’s night.

But now five hours later and bored out of your skull you were regretting that decision. You were going to lose your mind. You’d only left the room twice. Once for an x-ray and once for a CT scan.

You turned on the TV and settled on the game show network, letting the episode of family feud distract you.

You were on your third episode when a nurse came in.

“Hello. I’m Wanda, the night shift nurse. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. I’m just eager to get out of here.”

“I’ll bet you are. Dr. Barnes should be in soon,” she assured you. “He just finished up a surgery.”

“Sounds good.”

She checked your chart, noting your vitals and making sure that you weren’t tangled in any wires.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Can I have some water?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Wanda brought back a cup of water and a warm blanket.

“Thought you might be cold,” she explained.

“Actually yeah. Thanks. Is there any way I can take this off?” You gestured to the heart rate monitor on your finger.

She shot you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. It’s protocol.”

“Worth a shot,” you shrugged.

“I’ll come and check on you in a little bit.”

“Thank you.”

She bustled out of the room and you turned your attention back to the TV which had moved on the Price is Right reruns.

You must have drifted off because the next thing you know you were being gently shaken. Your eyes were finally able to focus on a pair of entirely too blue eyes.

As your brain caught up, you realized the blue eyes were set in a very handsome face. A familiar handsome face at that.

“2A?” you asked cocking your head to the side.

He chuckled as you readjusted yourself trying to discretely check that you hadn’t drooled in your sleep.

“Most people call me Dr. Barnes. Or Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

That made even less sense. You were certain the name on his mailbox was James.

“My middle name is Buchanan. And what shall I call you, 2B?”

“Y/n.”

“Well it’s very nice to officially meet you, Y/n. Although I wish it were under better circumstances. Let’s take a look at this ankle shall we?”

You nodded, and he took that as an assent to lift the blanket. He folded in neatly up over your knee leaving most of your lap covered. You grimaced when you saw the swelling was even worse now than when you arrived.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

You relayed your story to him, omitting the bit about hoping to run into him. He listened intently, making the occasional note but mainly he just nodded.

“I’m going to examine it now,” he announced.

His hands were sure and practiced as he gently turned your ankle from side to side. It twinged occasionally, so you focused on his features to distract yourself.

You catalogued each in turn but lingered on his sharp jawline. Your thoughts drifted to peppering kisses along it and down his neck.

You were startled when his cerulean gaze met yours with a concerned look.

“Did that hurt?”

“Not really. Why?”

You were genuinely confused by the question. You hadn’t noticed anything amiss in his examination.

“Your heart rate was elevated. And you, ummm,” he broke eye contact for the first time.

“I what?”

“Squeaked.”

Your eyes widened and your chest felt hot with embarrassment. You glanced at the traitorous machine which was live casting your racing heart. Although that probably was less of the issue than the fact that you squeaked.

“I guess the hospital just makes me nervous,” you lied lamely.

He didn’t look convinced but thankfully let it go.

“I just need to check one more angle.”

This time it was painful and you yelped.

“Sorry.” He gingerly placed your foot back on the pillow that had been elevating it and covered it with the blanket.

He held the CT scans and X-rays up to the light as you watched him. You once again failed to notice your heart rate climbing as you admired the bulge of his bicep.

Dr. Barnes however definitely noticed. He smiled over at you reassuringly, which failed to help the issue at all. He glanced at the erratically beeping machine, before looking back to you. You would swear that there was a hint of smugness in his expression. But he kept it well hidden.

“Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

“Lay it on me, doc.”

“Well, the good news is that you will not be needing surgery. It’s a minor fracture.”

“And the bad news?”

“It’s a minor fracture that requires a cast.”

“How long?”

“Eight weeks. Total.”

“Eight weeks on crutches?” You whined.

“You should only be on crutches for the first four. After that, assuming everything is healing well, you’ll be in a walking cast.”

You groaned and shot a murderous glare at your heels once again.

“The price we pay for fashion.”

“I’ll have Wanda prepare everything now. It should only take about an hour.”

“Well, that sure cuts into my dancing plans,” you joked, frustrated by being stuck there for another hour.

It would be morning before you got home.

“Is that where you were headed?” he asked as he pressed the call button.

“Yeah. My friends finally convinced me to go out with them for once and look where it got me,” you laughed humorlessly. “Well at least I’m done for the summer. So the leg won’t mess me up too bad.”

Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“What do you need, doctor Barnes?”

“I need a cast kit. For the ankle.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

You expected Bucky to leave then, but he continued bustling around the room.

“You said you’re done for the summer. Are you a teacher?”

“Kinda.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I’m a graduate student. So I just finished up TAing for the semester.”

“Ahh. Are you doing research then?”

“I’m finishing up the edits on my thesis actually. So this might actually make me do it instead of procrastinating," you giggled.

“What’s your thesis on?”

You were in the middle of explaining your thesis, when Wanda returned. Genuinely interested in your area of research, Bucky continued asking you questions as he wrapped the liner around your leg.

From time to time he would grin up at you and the damn heart rate monitor would go off all over again. You’d gotten over your embarrassment for the most part, until Wanda had to suppress a giggle because your heart actually skipped a beat.

“Alright. You are all set. Wanda will grab you your crutches and your discharge papers. You’ll need to make a follow up with your Orthopedic in four weeks.”

“Since I don’t have an orthopedic on speed dial, do you know any good ones?”

Bucky chuckled.

“I’ll have her put my practice’s number on the sheet.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem. Do you have any questions before I go?”

“How long do you think getting all the paperwork sorted will take?”

“Not long. Twenty minutes or so. Why?”

“Just wondering if I should order my Uber now or wait.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. His fingers drummed against the clipboard in his hand as he momentarily mulled something over.

“If you’re willing to wait another forty-five minutes, I can drive you home when I get off my shift.”

You immediately shook your head.

“You so don’t need to do that.”

“Please. It’s literally on my way home.”

You nibbled on your lip. It would be a lot easier.

“If you’re sure.”

He seemed almost relieved when you accepted.

“Absolutely. It’s been pretty quiet tonight, so you can just hang out in here until I get back.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He smiled, softer than the other ones he’d given you so far before hanging your chart on the end of your bed and exiting the room, bumping into the glass door as he went. You stifled a giggle. Maybe you weren’t the only one affected.

It took a little over thirty minutes to get you processed. And before you knew it Bucky was helping you into his car. You went in butt first and then swung your cast leg, followed by your good leg in just a hospital sock. Bucky handed you your shoes and purse.

“So, do you chauffer all of your patients home?” You teased as you left the parking lot.

“Only the ones who live across the hall. Speaking of which, I am sorry this is the first time we’ve gotten to meet properly. Not very neighborly of me.”

“I can’t imagine why you haven’t made your way over with your loads of free time,” you deadpanned, earning you an eyeroll. “But however it happened, I’m glad that we met. It was getting to the awkward stage.”

“Yeah, seven months of passing waves is a long time.”

You hummed your agreement.

“So, how did you get into medicine?”

“Family business.”

He told you all about his surgeon mom and physician father as you drove home. His siblings were also in medicine and even his childhood best friend.

“That is so many medical degrees in one house. Must be rousing holiday dinner conversations.”

“We actually have a no shop talk rule.”

“And how long does that last?” you asked knowingly.

“Through appetizers… maybe.”

“Your family sounds amazing.”

“They are. I wouldn’t trade them for anything,” he admitted as he parked his car.

Bucky carefully helped you out of the car and up to your apartment. You’d never been so glad to live in a building with an elevator.

“I feel like I should offer you breakfast for bringing me home,” you admitted as you plopped down on the couch, and lifted your foot onto the coffee table exhausted from the crutches.

“You need to stay off that foot. But I’m sure you’re starving and so am I. Got any pancake mix?”

“Doctor Barnes, you really don’t have to do that.”

“It’s Bucky. We’re back to just neighbors here. And I want to.”

“How can I repay you?”

“Think about going out on a date with me when your leg is all healed.”

You cocked your head, as you appraised him.

“Just think about it?”

He scratched behind his ear as he shrugged a little.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for well… about seven months. But I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. Because you don’t. I would have brought any of my neighbors home,” he rambled.

“You’re a really good guy,” you hummed.

“Could you tell my Ma that?” he joked, though his ears tinged pink.

“Happily. And I’d love to think about going on a date with you.”

He beamed back at you.

“I’ll take it. So pancakes?”

“In the cabinet above the fridge. Next to the chocolate chips.”

He nodded, taking the hint on your favorite add on.

“I’m on it.”

Eight weeks later when your walking cast came off, you and Bucky went out for dinner… for your two month anniversary.

Your heart definitely still raced when he smiled at you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: There we have it! I hope you enjoyed @captainscanadian.

[friendofhayley]

I’m back after my hiatus from fanfiction, to give y’all the best multifandom recs of the fics I read this month. Shoutout to all content creators who helped us live to see the close of this year. This fic includes 15 fics for Sterek, Larry, Winteriron, and Geraskier. The starred ones put me through heaven and hell *chef’s kiss*.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

1. Six Letter Word for Romance by @troubleiwant | domestic kink - omg there’s only one bed - soft Derek - oblivious idiots in love - 6k

Stiles definitely starts off thinking it’s fucking hilarious that Derek-sourwolf-Hale does crosswords and cares about scuffs on his furniture.

But at a certain point, and he can’t pinpoint exactly when, “fully functional adult couple” somehow becomes a massive fetish of his. Derek in sweats and bare feet, nudging his glasses up his nose while he does the Sunday crossword? Unff. Derek filling out forms to get some renovations on his property approved? Oh God, yes. Derek putting away groceries and bitching that the corner store was out of the right type of Greek yogurt? Take me now, Stiles thinks, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.

This can’t be normal.

2. *Dirty Little Secret* by @isthatbloodonhisshirt | Cora & Stiles bffs - no one can resist the Stilinski charm - celebrity Derek - human au - 91k

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”

3. Can You Feel A Whole New Part of Your World? by @isthatbloodonhisshirt | i genuinely don’t look at authors names i just click i am sorry for spamming you but you write too good - neighbors Sterek - emotionally mature Stiles - the ideal fluffy world you’d want to live in - 53k

Can you hear me singing in the shower?” Stiles blurted out, because he had to know, now. If one of his neighbours had slid that note under his door, then it meant Parrish as another neighbour could hear him, too! He had to know if this was all a huge joke and one person had walked by and overheard him and decided to fuck with him.

Parrish gave him a weird look at the question, but answered anyway, making Stiles’ plans to leave the country speed up in his mind.

“Of course I can. You’re actually not bad. Though you have been singing a lot of Frozen lately, getting kind of tired of the soundtrack.”

4. Theory of Overprotective Canines by @petals42 | derek can turn into wolf - oblivious Stiles - future fic - mutual pining - 11k

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Larry (One Direction)

5. **The Changer and the Changed** by @homosociallyyours | literally the best fic of all time i want to live in there - girl direction - NYC ‘70s au - trans Zayn - the girls are so lovely - 59k

It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians.

Louis Tomlinson works at a popular women’s bookstore in the Lower East Side, Womon’s Direction, where she spends her days reading feminist literature, writing poetry, exchanging friendly barbs with her boss Niall, and dreaming of finding someone to love.

When Harry and Louis meet, their connection is instantaneous. Slowly but surely, Louis welcomes Harry into her community of women. Stonewall veteran and old school butch Niall; Liam, a land dyke who’s moved to the city for love; and Zayn, a lesbian musician who’s been ostracized by a vocal part of women’s community for being trans, welcome Harry with open arms, ready to help her find her place in New York City’s bustling lesbian scene.

6. others i’ve seen might never be mean (but they would never do) by @cherrylouvol6 | aaaaaaaa it’s lesbian When Harry Met Sally !!! - rom com - girl direction - coming out and first times - really great sex - 20k

Louis sighs.

“Do you remember what I said to you the first time we met?”

“That I’m naive and neurotic and would be hard pressed to ever find someone who could put up with me?” Harry snaps.

7. some things fade (some never do) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed | aaaaaa this story took me apart and back together again just like Louis and Harry - urban fantasy au - second chances - exes to friends to lovers - hurt/comfort - 25k

Matching tattoos. He’d never thought he’d be the type for tattoos to begin with, let alone matching or magical ones, but once Harry had put the idea in his mind it had never quite managed to disappear. And it had made sense. With their relationship a long distance one, this was simply another way of feeling close to one another. Of knowing where the other was, how they felt. It had made so much sense.

Back then.

8. we can take the long way home by @eleadore | i usually don’t rec my porn but there’s so much feels in this one - canon-divergent - kink discovery - friends to lovers - this was written in 2015 as a future fic but it felt like it was taking place now so good job - 27k

“Fertile,” Louis says, and then laughs because it sounds stupid to say out loud. He hasn’t ever really thought of himself in those terms. Baby-making terms. It’s just one of those things his body can do, like exercise, or go without tea. Doesn’t mean he will.

Winteriron (MCU)

9. **Dig No Graves** by @missaphelion | Tony finds out about his parents right after winter soldier au - Tony Stark has a heart - Bucky heals with bots and lots of sugar - slow burn - 142k

"I'm here to kill you, Terminator," Tony said slowly, "does that compute?"

The soldier looked up at him with wide blue eyes and no expression. "Okay."

Tony froze. "Okay," he echoed. "I tell you I came here to kill you and your response is 'okay'?"

10. A Rifling Matter by Penndragon27 | Winter Soldier has such a big crush on Tony’s weapons, he escapes Hydra au - identity porn - pining Bucky - fluff and angst - Winter Soldier is a fanboy and it’s cute - 37k

All the Asset knows is fighting, killing.

He also knows a good weapon when he sees one and Stark Industries... they make some great weapons.

11. *Winter is Coming (aka Fifty First Avengers Dates)* by @tisfan & @everyworldneedslove | enemies to friends to lovers to 50 first dates - pining Bucky - Tony gets amnesia - no Steve bashing but he’s a little bit of an ass - mental health issues - 109k

Bucky Barnes is still mostly The Asset, and he's pretty sure Hydra is going to come back for him soon, so in the meantime he's just going to keep an eye on the Avengers for them. But then Clint spotted him hiding in the shadows, so Tony came out and dragged Bucky back to the Tower, threw him in the shower, and fed him cheeseburgers.

Now The Asset is having anomalous feelings. In his pants.

Geraskier (The Witcher)

12. *no reason to run* by @yoursummerfrost | different meeting au - only one bed but camping - cursed Jaskier - soft Geralt!!!! - poly negotiations - 61k

"You'll change your mind one day," says the innkeep. "The road can't love you back."

What a strange way to flatten something so beautiful, Jaskier thinks. What a small way to love.

13. *He Fell into a Faerie Ring* by @geraltnoises | Jaskier gets bardnapped after the fight au - non-human Jaskier - soft Geralt - Jaskier encourages people to be kind and becomes a god - emotionally mature Geralt - 57k

Traders are a gossiping sort. If there was a scandal within the noble houses of Posada, you’d hear about it in Cretegor by the end of the week. So, the quick spread of a rumor about a little village in the Kestrel Mountain range was not at all surprising. What was surprising was the story that the traders wove. They said that Luibhtorrach, a sad, ghost of a farming town, had miraculously become a hub for trade, as if overnight. Their lands unbelievably fertile and brimming with crop. Even stranger, each and every one of Luibhtorrach’s people professed that their good fortune was the work of a mysterious beast they’d claimed as their personal deity. Most recent news foretold of their plans to throw a midsummer festival celebrating this newfound god. In preparation, silken blue banners were erected in every corner of the town, each bearing the symbol of their new patron: A delicate dandelion wrapping around a golden sun.

14. Barking Up the Wrong Tree by KHansen | 5+1 things - I’m worried about Geralt’s skills - non-human Jaskier - monsterfucker Geralt - crack treated seriously - 11k

Geralt is 100% certain that Jaskier is a vampire.

He's 100% proven wrong.

15. Bardic Idyll by Lisztful | fake relationship - Geralt is soft and oblivious - pining - fluff and angst - Jaskier you can’t show your emotions mainly through song! - 13k

Jaskier is certain he can win the Continent's annual bardic competition, but he needs to be accompanied by a dashing romantic companion in order to enter. Enter Geralt, who is definitely, for sure, only interested in the free food, and not at all in staring lovingly into Jaskier's eyes.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

@matt-boyd04​‘s Favorite Fics 

(or ten of them anyway)

I want to know what your favorite fics are so I can read new stuff! We hope you find something new here to read. I can’t wait for some of these. If you want to submit please send me an IM. Happy reading!

hope is the thing with feathers by ShanaStoryteller

(1/1 | 28,959 | Teen | Sterek)

Stiles is ten when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seem to continue indefinitely.

"Then he's facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There's Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that's his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man's chest so he knows he's alive, but he's not waking up. He shoves away his hood so he can shout, "Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there's a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!" Nothing, he's not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they're having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" There's a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it's all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet. "

The Not So Beauty to Your Beast by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 | 64,487 | Mature | Sterek)

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski?”

All eyes instantly turned to Stiles and he felt his stomach drop. They’d taken his dad. They’d actually taken his dad and were here to tell him so.

“Yeah?” he asked in a small voice, feeling ready to be sick.

The second he spoke, two of the four regular guards moved through the rows, the lead guard speaking.

“By order of his Grace Peter Hale, you have been selected to begin your employ under the royal house of Hale.”

Wait.

What?

A Little Lost by exclamation

(32/32 | 73,366 | Mature | Sterek)

A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he's stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past?

And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself?

Blood is (Not) Thicker Than Water by Anxiety_Baker02

(13/13 | 78,000 | Teen | Sterek)

Stiles hasn’t seen his extended family in years- mostly because they’re assholes. His cousins bully him relentlessly, and his aunts and uncles aren’t much better. So when he hears that they’re coming out for a family reunion, he’s understandably upset. He knows the next week is going to be hell, and it’s made worse when a new pack shows up, vowing revenge on their pack.

Cathedrals by KarasuYurei, KouriArashi

(17/17 | 78,639 | Teen | Sterek | Shadowhunters Crossover)

After the events with Deucalion and Jennifer Blake, Derek goes on a search for his biological family. He, Stiles, and Cora head to New York City to try to find the family he doesn’t remember. It turns out that there was a lot to his adoption that he never knew.

Didn’t See That Coming by knittersrevolt

(43/43 | 83,838 | Explicit | Sterek)

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

Dirty Little Secret by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(2/2 | 91,001 | Explicit | Sterek)

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”

Love Thy Neighbor...He’s Hot by Triangulum

(3/3 | 117,105 | Not Rated | Sterek)

Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with Stiles as their neighbor. Yeah he can be loud, but he keeps it to normal hours, and he brings them food, they have movie nights, he's so beautiful, and okay, Derek might be pining. The only problem is, Stiles has a girlfriend. And Derek HATES her.

OR

The one where Derek and Laura live next door to Stiles, and Derek has a completely out of control crush. A Sterek as neighbors one shot AU that got wildly out of control.

Teen Sorcerer by G8rguy

(26/26 | 168,346 | Not Rated | Sterek | Doctor Strange crossover)

Stiles Stilinski is tired.  Tired of being ignored and forgotten once the research is done.  After defeating Gerard and freeing Jackson from the Kanima he thought things would improve but somehow it got worse.  Derek is focused on building his pack which includes the newly rescued Erica and Boyd, freed after Allison realized her grandfather was nutso, and the freed Jackson who narrowly avoided being shipped overseas by his parents.  Scott is focused on his neverending relationship drama with Allison and his new best bud Isaac.  Left alone more often than not, Stiles feels everyone is moving on without him so he looks for his own path.

When Deaton is unable to help him with his Spark he looks elsewhere and finds others who help him along until he finds himself meditating in his room and is surprised by an Astral form that shows up.  Unknowing attracting the attention of the new Sorcerer Supreme, Stiles discovers that he might be able to not only help Dr. Strange, but he just might find out how he can protect both his home and those jerks in what he considers his pack - whether Mr. Hale or Mr. McCall consider him or not.

You’re stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter

(15/15 | 234,195 | Not Rated | Sterek)

Set at the end of season 2, Stiles survives his encounter with Gerard and his goons, but it isn't easy.

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

[captainsolare]

Sol! May I request some William angst for your event please? Hm maybe Roll 4 times for AU, 1 time for dialogue, and 2 for trope please 🥺💕? Thank yoh in advance!

A/N: Lyra! Yes of course! I hope you enjoy it :) It was interesting to write a Western AU William 😂 The dice really made this an angsty one

Bonus: listen to 'jupiter' by Wrabel

Warning: Drunk man makes a gross comment and grabs your arm

William Angst + Western AU! + First Love Reunion + "Try that again, I dare you."

William’s chest felt heavy as he rode into town, he had known that coming back here might affect him, but he hadn’t thought it would be this much. The buildings looked like they hadn’t aged a day, but he knew that wasn’t true, it had been years since he had set foot here. His life as a bounty hunter didn’t lend well for settling down, and so he had left this place and a piece of his heart with it. However, a job was a job, and he had received reports that a notorious outlaw had been spotted in the area, and William wanted to be the one to catch him.

He half prayed that there was another option, somewhere else he could stay for the night, but the sun had long sunk over the horizon, and the only place open now would be the saloon and conjoined inn your family owned. He hopped off his horse, tying him off on a post. There was a water trough nearby, so that should be suitable for the time being.

You didn’t see him come in, his hat pulled low over his eyes; if you had, you most certainly would have dropped the glass in your hand, sending it tumbling to the wooden floor below. He grabbed a spot at a table in the corner, heart clenching at the familiar face behind the bar. You still looked as beautiful as the day he met you, but you looked happier than the day he left, the day he broke your heart. Something about the way your eyes crinkled as you chatted with a miner at the bar made his heart ache, you were so close to him yet so far at the same time.

One of the saloon girls interrupted his thoughts by asking for his order.

“Just water please.” He said hoarsely, trying to ignore how much he wanted to grab a seat at the bar and talk to you.

“Yes sir! That’ll be right out.”

She returned swiftly, a cool mug of water set upon the table. “Are you stayin’ here long cowboy?”

William looked up at her, a forced smile on his face, “No, just for the evening.”

As he looked up at her, the light happened to reveal his face to her, her expression changed, and she hurried away to tend to other customers. He sighed softly, taking a sip of his water. He was used to this happening, people had almost always reacted to his birthmark this way, some people were convinced he had some sort of plague. The woman’s reaction was another painful reminder of how much he missed you; you were the only person he’d ever met that had touched his face with tenderness.

-

You were at the bar, fulfilling orders and chatting with customers when a particularly unruly man sat at the stool in front of you.

“Hello sir, what can I get you?”

The man smiled wickedly, it was obvious he was already drunk, “Are you on the menu?”

The question made your skin crawl but you forced yourself to smile, “I’m afraid not sir.”

William narrowed his eyes, that was the man he was looking for; now was not the time to act though, there were too many people around to risk getting in a shootout inside the saloon.

The man wouldn’t take no for an answer though, and when you were turned for a split second he lunged to grab your arm.

William was over in a flash, grabbing the man’s arm with a vice-like grip.

The saloon went eerily silent as all eyes were fixed on the scene at the bar, “Try that again, I dare you.” The words were dripping with such venom that William surprised even himself.

The man let your arm go, but fixed William with a defiant grin, “Or what? Is this your lover or something?”

The corners of William’s mouth twitched, “Do you know who I am?”

His smile faltered, but the man’s voice was even as he spoke, “No, why does that matter?”

William smiled wickedly, knowing his prey was about to be caught. “Maybe this will refresh your memory.”

He tilted his hat up from his face and the man instantly paled.

“Y-you, you’re him. You’re the bounty hunter, William Vangeance, bringer of vengeance.” The man’s voice shook and he tried to squirm away from him.

William chuckled, “That’s right Slim, I am. And now I’ll be taking you to the sheriff.”

Slim didn’t put up much of a fight as William led him out the door.

-

You stood frozen in place, memories rushing back to you all at once. A cold December night, a letter slipped under your door, running after him, begging him to stay.

The buzz of the bar soon returned, and you took a deep breath, trying to recenter yourself after the shock of seeing William again. You had long given up on him returning, but lo and behold he had, at least for tonight. Would he leave in the morning? Probably. It seemed as if he had only come for his quarry, but some part of you hoped that it had been more, that he had come to see you as well.

-

Hours passed, and you were closing the saloon. You swept the floors, and wiped off the tables, now all that was left was to wipe down the bar.

There was a knock at the door and you opened it to find William standing there, an uncertain look on his face. You were tempted to yell at him, take out five years worth of frustration and anger and regret on him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. When you searched your heart, there was only sadness left where William was concerned, he had been your first love and he had left you cold and alone, with only the silhouette of him on his horse receding into the distance and your memories.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.” You said, your voice just above a whisper.

William glanced down at his feet, regret filling his chest, “I didn’t either.”

You lingered in the doorway for a long moment, then stepped to the side.

“Want a drink?”

He nodded and walked in, and you locked the door behind him. He took a seat at the bar as you made what he asked for, pouring water for yourself.

“Thank you for earlier.”

William shifted on his stool, “Of course, I couldn’t stand to let you get hurt.”

That’s rich, coming from the person who broke my heart. You wanted to say, but instead you forced a smile, “Well, I appreciate it.”

You and William stared at each other, both unsure of what to say.

“You look well.” William spoke up after a while.

Your lips twitched from the irony, “I’m making do.”

Silence prevailed once more, and you stared at your water glass, trying to will the dam of emotions to stay intact. You took a deep breath, clenching your fists on the counter.

“Why did you leave me?”

The question was soft, but it was filled with pain so sharp William could feel it cut him.

“You know why.”

Your head whipped up, eyes alight with anger.

“No I don’t. You were here one day and we were happy, and the next day you were riding off on that damn horse.”

“I--”

You didn’t let him finish, “I could have come with you William!” Your voice began to break, tears threatened to fall.

“Being a bounty hunter is dangerous work.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Do you have any idea how I worried for you once I found out what you were doing?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” You sucked in a breath, chest heaving, “Are you sorry for the way you broke my heart into a million tiny pieces?”

William stood, hand slammed on the counter, his voice strained, “It broke my heart too! I never wanted to hurt you Y/N.”

You blinked at him, “Never wanted to hurt me. So why did you? I would have gone anywhere with you, followed you to the ends of the earth, left all of this behind. I wouldn’t care if it were dangerous or uncomfortable, because I would get to spend my days with you!”

“I know! And that’s the problem,” He took a pained breath, “You don’t deserve a life like that Y/N! You deserve to be safe and comfortable and happy and I can’t give that to you.”

“I don’t want that, I just wanted you.”

William blinked his tears away, “I wanted you too.”

“Then why?” Your voice was soft, all the bravado and tension from before quieted.

“I’m not good for you.”

You laughed darkly, “William, that’s crap and you know it.”

William pulled a few bills from his pocket, setting them on the counter.

“Think I could get a room for the night?”

“Talk to Tracy next door.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“This isn’t over William! Please don’t leave yet, are you leaving in the morning?”

“Goodbye Y/N.”

He walked away, heading for the door.

“Please don’t go.” You whispered, if he heard, he gave no indication he did so.

The door opened and closed, and you collapsed on the counter, for the first time that night, allowing yourself to cry.

William watched from the window, heart torn to shreds as he watched your shoulders shake.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really am.”

[creacherkeeper]

How is the cowboi doing? :) I’d love to hear about some of their recent adventures.

OH WELL IT'S ME + ALSO MY DICE HATE(/love) ME SO YOU KNOW THEYRE GETTING WHUMPED CONSTANTLY LMAO

there have certainly been some Events Unfolding so those are under the cut, casey since youre in our campaign now NO PEEKING

fair warning this is .... long ..... you have asked me to talk about my dnd character and you simply CANNOT stop the floodwaters now. enter at your own risk

okay so basically the first arc of the campaign kind of kicked off with them getting a vision from their goddess (the grain goddess/goddess of agriculture) saying that she was trapped in a fey gate and that they needed to come rescue her

so erley immediately Rallied The Posse and set off to do that. they NUMEROUS times tried to pray to her, commune with her, basically just get ANY sort of communication or guidance from her, but the dice like to tell their story so i literally never got above an 11 (paladin with only +2 to religion my beloved) and they never heard from her, which was making them. pretty nervous. when it seemed like everyone else was able to talk to their gods just fine

well we eventually figured out that there was a huge gathering of fey in the woods (me: this might be too big for us to fight. what if its like 30 fey? / my dm, glancing at his notes where he has 2000 fey written down: (: ) and basically the fey like. had captured and were trying to kill what was left of the pantheon so they could bring back gaia as the One True God

we found all this out because it turned out several members of the party had been lying about how much they knew of the fey and had personal connections to the fey they'd kept hidden. and erley, who is ALSO HIDING A LOT from the party like. immediately went on the offense and was just generally very unhappy about this

there had been this fey merchant who kept popping up wherever we were trying to sell us magic weapons that seemed tied to us specifically. erley was always VERY suspicious of her and did everything in their power to stop the others from buying her weapons (which we literally had to buy with -5 to a skill point, not money, v sus) to mixed results. but basically when we got to the fey gathering (we called it gaiapalooza) erley rolled a 1 on their survival check to get through the magic field and like. got teleported to her. and they really wanted information from her so they basically were like LEORA I DONT KNOW WHO TO TRUST I THINK MY PARTY HAS BEEN LYING TO ME, CAN YOU TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT THEM CAN YOU SEE US WHEN YOURE NOT THERE? and basically pretended to need a therapy session in order to milk her for information lmao. she also seemed like. REALLY interested in erley and i was also very nervous about that

and i was RIGHT to be suspicious of her because we found out she WAS ACTUALLY THE BIG BAD and we had to fight her in the arc finale. and several of our party members had rl stuff and were not there, and in game our druid was away casting an 8 hour long spell to try and stop the palooza ceremony, so our party was SUPER nerfed and also as soon as erley realized it WAS actually leora who was behind all of it and she WAS trying to hurt them with those weapons (the weapons were tethers to the gods to be able to kill them basically), they got .... a little angry

and my party found out after irl a year of playing these characters that erley's first level is barbarian :))

so erley raged and did frankly a staggering amount of damage in this fight, and also only stayed up because of rage because they took a LOT of hits. but also. they dont rage FOR A REASON so it sort of took them over and when leora dropped, one of the other pcs ran over to stabilize her as she was making death saves and erley :) maybe :) drove a spear through her heart and killed her :)

and her body immediately just like. overgrew with plants and vines and flowers and basically wrapped the spear in a bed of plants and it was very cinematic and cool

(we have since found out that leora was like. actually an aspect of gaia so. that is. interesting)

of course then erley popped out of rage and was like FUCK this is why i dont do this, i went too far, it always goes too far, THIS is why im ashamed of this, and just got very emo boi about it. so they used their last spell slot to cast restoration on the space they had fought in and reached out to their goddess, having just saved her and the rest of the pantheon like she had asked them to

and i rolled a nat 1!!!

(the dm was like "you have committed this violent act, you feel so low and so bad and in need of guidance, and reach out to your goddess. and the absolute lack of a response just makes you feel empty inside" and i was like :) oh :) okay cool :) you love to see that with your paladins huh)

at this point the druid came back in and, instead of erley like. examining any of their own shit immediately lashed out at her and was like "why did you lie to me about the fey, why did you lie about why you were here, why ARE you here because i realize now it wasnt to help me"

and at that point ONE OF THE FEY QUEENS WALKED IN and the druid was like "... mother ..." and we were all :O

so it turns out the fey queen is her birth mom but had like? kidnapped one of the children of her firbolg tribe and was holding her hostage and the druid was on a quest to find her and bring her back

so erley :) felt :) even more bad about that :) and very shamedly pledged their help to her, and basically was like "as long as youre on this noble quest i will follow you if you'll have me"

so we're on our second arc now, which is traveling across the country to go meet the fey queen and get this kid back. as we were traveling my dm had me roll religion and a luck check and i got a 21 ON RELIGION FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER and a 6 luck. and he was like "you dont usually dream, but you have a nightmare. you know this nightmare was given to you, it was divinely inspired, but you dont know who sent it" and it was just erley killing leora over and over and over again. so they were like. well fuck

(my dm also messaged me privately and we talked and he was like. yeah you can get rid of your oath of devotion and change it to oath of the ancients, i am not telling you or erley why the subclass has changed and you also might get nerfed later. also level up barbarian for the next fight)

so erley was. feeling PRETTY DANG BAD and very guilty and stressed and all that. they did also realize their barbarian side was getting stronger which, considering their backstory is all tragic barbarian shit they were NOT happy about. i was fully prepared to have them be more ostracized from the party and go into full angst mode, but then the druid actually like. pulled them aside and explained why she had hidden information from them, and had a very sweet conversation with them and held their hand and it was VERY touching (she also had the baller line "you think your goddess can hear you and she's not answering. but maybe you're talking in a whisper and she needs to hear you scream")

we had another fight (we're level 7 and my dm told us after it was a cr 32 fight like. dude??? what the fuck?????) and once again erley didnt go down only because of rage

THEY ALSO UNINTENTIONALLY CAST MISTY STEP (which is an ancients spell they didnt have before) and were like WELL NO TIME TO UNPACK WHAT THAT WAS RIGHT NOW, HAVE TO NOT DIE

after the battle was over i asked to roll a check to figure out why i had access to that spell and got :) yeah you guessed it :) another nat 1 :) so erley has literally no idea how they cast that or what it could mean. we just had a new pc introduced who is a sorcerer so erley is definitely going to talk to her and see if she knows anything. because they are FULLY IN THE DARK about their subclass change or what that means in game

we're also (because of the fucking cr 32 fight) going to be leveling up again soon, and babey you KNOW im leveling barbarian. after rage kept me up and then rolling another nat 1 religion check, and also me the player not knowing whats up with their goddess/magic, i simply cant level paladin rn. so im BETWEEN A FEW SUBCLASS OPTIONS and ive been thinking them over but i think it really depends how the next few games go

my FULL ANGST option was to make them level into zealot barbarian like their awful dad, but i thought that made the least sense in universe rn

secondary angst option is to level into berserker, which i think fits pretty closely with how i've been roleplaying the rage so far. trading off an extra attack for a level of exhaustion fits pretty closely. also whump central

the NICE option is to have them be a totem warrior barbarian, and have both their paladin steed and their totem be a bull :) (they are a cowboi after all) i think thats the closest i can marry their two classes and potentially have some healthy growth for them, let them see that the rage doesnt HAVE to be a bad thing, that being a barbarian isnt something they HAVE to be ashamed of. reskinning the bear totem would give them resistance to all damage but psychic while raging, and im planning on taking the tough feat, so theyd pretty much be ... an unstoppable tank. plus i can still divine smite while in rage so theyd be VERY powerful

and now youre all caught up on my very special boi :))))) bet you didnt expect quite that much of an infodump but. listen. listen im simply obsessed with dnd i cannot help it. any chance to talk about my characters i WILL TAKE IN A HEARTBEAT (thank u for prompting my ramble lmao)

[shiftytracts]

This was gonna be a scenario post, hence the A and B format, but got so long (2.4k) it almost counts as a story. I’m less sure it counts as emeto--it’s all nausea/general digestive upset, no actual vomit. Also mentions scat and weight gain, but those tags would definitely constitute false advertising; they’re more like incidental story elements than kink elements.

--

A’s on new meds, whose side effects include slight but near-constant nausea. They wander one morning through the dark, brown-carpeted house they share with B (their SO) and another housemate (C), coffee cup in hand, still slightly sweat-sticky from bed but without the time to shower. It’s a small, thin-walled house, and C’s not up yet, so A and B keep off their shoes for as long as they can, trying not to make too much noise. A muffles their burps into the crook of their elbow. B makes eggs and toast for both; A’s gotta wolf ‘em before their appointment, but wishes they hadn’t—or at least that they’d skipped the orange juice, and maybe saved brushing their teeth for after breakfast. They head to their appointment with their heart pounding in their gut, queasy and bloated and short of breath, bubbly stiff cramps forming in new places every time they bend a different way, belly rumbling so much they wonder if B can hear it, if they can see it shake, can see A’s navel through their t-shirt.

(“Be honest”—A implores, when they wander back from the can to the kitchen sink where B stands washing grease off the breakfast plates—“do I look like a total fatass?”

(“What? No.” B laughs, rhetorically, and adds, “Why?”

(“Well ‘cause I sorta feel like one is all,” A says, peremptorily stroking up and down past their navel, but regretting it when this uncalled-for jiggling further upsets their stomach.

(“Aw. No, you look fine,” B assures them. They look back to their dishes, then at A again with preemptive shrug: “I guess if they were really looking someone might figure you’d had a big breakfast, but.” A yanks at their shirt, hoping to obscure this; “Don’t do that, you’ll stretch it,” B reminds them.)

A tries to crap before they leave but no dice—not time yet. Nasty cramps and cold sweat all through their shrink appointment. Comes home, gives vent to the pyroclastic flow, then collapses supine on the bed and unbuttons their shorts. Takes a nap.

Despite their best efforts B’s doings in there an hour or so after that wake A up; they direct A to the water glass they set by the bed. “Oh. Thanks,” A yawns, and asks if B’ll hand them pajama pants. B smiles and complies.

“Not going out again then, huh? Not feeling well?”

A shrugs. “No, I’m okay now, just kinda.” They try to make a hand gesture for tired or loopy, but judging from B’s lack of answering nod they figure this doesn’t suffice as explanation. “Might later though, I don’t know.”

“Mm.”

“Should eat something, probably.”

“Ah, yeah—get back on the horse?”

“Haha yeah.” Meanwhile A rubs their belly up and down as though to sound its opinion on the level of drawstring tightness they’ve selected. B sits next to them for a sec, puts a hand on their back, pecks their jaw.

“I guess you are a bit chubbier now,” B admits, feeling guilty for how they dodged A’s question on that score this morning.

“Seems that way,” allows A. This, they’re pretty sure, is the previous med’s fault. They wouldn’t’ve switched were that its only sin, of course, but the thing had the gall to be useless aside from its side effects of weight gain and insomnia. “Is it gross? Should I.”

“What? No,” B says again, and laughs rhetorically as before. “‘Gross’? Of course not.” B bats A’s jaw, very gently, playfully. “No matter what happens, I’m just happy you’re getting help.”

A’s answering smile lasts maybe a quarter of a second. “Thanks.” All the same they stand and spread their arms out to either side, to give B a better look. “Sure you don’t mind?”

B smiles, shakes their head chidingly, incredulously. “Why would I mind? It’s kinda cute, if anything.” To prove they mean it they go around behind A, rest the side of their face on the back of A’s neck, snake their hands around to A’s front and slot each one atop their waistband so B’s palms fit in the hollow between pelvis and flab. Roots around til they find the end of A’s shirt, pushes it out of the way, un- and re-does the drawstring so their pajama pants sit at a more flattering height. “That too tight?”

“No, it’s kinda grounding actually,” A shrugs. “Thanks.”

“Mhm. Now go eat something.”

A eats some leftover rice with soy sauce—C ordered way too much rice with their takeout two nights ago, and left the extra up for grabs. Then A figures they can handle two Oreos. Can’t stop burping after that, but only feels a little queasy, little squirmy. Lies on the couch with their laptop, alternately studying and playing Tetris (they’re a week or two into the fall semester; today’s Friday, which they have off from both classes and work). Until C gets home, at which point Mariokart happens. This makes A feel sick, though, not sure whether in a too much food or not enough kinda way, so they take their computer and go back to the bedroom, telling C they just want to remove themselves from the social distraction. Maintains this ruse until about halfway down the hallway, then lets go the foodbaby they’ve been suckin’ in and moves their free hand up and down it as they round the corner into their bedroom doorway. B’s all dressed and ready for their friend’s party now; has to go soon. They’re crisscross-applesauced on the bed looking at their phone, but they look up when A comes in. “Hey.”

“Hi! Feeling better?” B asks, with a slight frown that suggests they know the answer.

A busies their hands with setting their laptop on the bed so they can say, “Nope—queasatronic,” without seeming too self-pitying.

B nose-laughs but says, “Aw. I’m sorry.”

A shrugs, sits. “Eh.”

“Want me to stay home?—I could—?”

But this time A says, “What? No. ‘Course not, you should go. I’m fine, I’m.” (Shrugs, realizing already that this’ll sound like a guilt trip and wondering whether they secretly mean one. But they’re too bushed to think of another ending to the sentence.) “I’m used to this; don’t need a babysitter. You should go.”

“Okay. Thank you. If you’re sure.”

“No, please. Seriously.”

“Alright. What time is it?” B chirps, then presses the top button on their phone and reports, “5:24—yeah okay, I should go. Take care, feel better. Need anything?—I could stop at CVS, or.”

“Uh…” A mimes thinking about it, then spaces out for real.

“Well, you can text me if so,” B laughs.

“Cool. Sure. Have fun.”

“Thaaanks,” B says, swinging themselves by the hand around the doorjamb as they slip out. A arranges themselves supine again, hands folded on their stomach. Lets out an unimpressed sigh as though in summation. Doesn’t really wanna take a nap, but they try playing Tetris again and feel too icky when they try to focus their eyes on the screen. Closes their laptop but does not remove its warm weight from their lap, even though in the 5pm heat its plastic sticks to their wrists. Burps, mouth open, not loudly exactly but sorta high-pitched—as though they were an adolescent boy with a soda can, they scoff. Then wonders if they have any more diet ginger ale. Wanders out to the kitchen, in the extra wall space between which and the dining room (B calls it a “breakfast nook,” but A just assumes that’s a joke they don’t get) they keep their soda cans stacked on the floor next to the milk-cratey recycle bins. There is indeed one left. They grab that and a cup (and two ice cubes outta the tray in the freezer), too lazy to fetch the one B put water in for them earlier, and remind themselves to text B that they’ve run out.

C’s still out there, and notices A’s choice of beverage. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just. Guts’re on the fritz again.”

“Hm. Sorry, pal.”

“It’s cool.”

“You gonna be able to find something you can eat?”

“What?”

“Tonight, I mean. Is there food you can eat?”

A shrugs. “Still some rice left I guess.”

“I ask ‘cause I’m going to the store in an hour, so. If you want some saltines or something.”

“Oh.” A laughs; adds, “thanks. Think we still have some from last time though.”

“Okay. Well, if you think of anything you want.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“No problem; good luck.”

At this departure from Hope you feel better A laughs slightly. “Thanks.” Heads back to their room, drinks their soda and melty ice. This is the hottest-ass part of the day, so when it’s gone they balance the still-cool glass on their clavicle. They feel much better now, if sorta bloated and fizzy. Quease level comparatively minimal. Figures they should eat again while they’ve got the, uh, guts for it.

Once they start on their second round of rice A finds they’re pretty hungry. Adds soy sauce a lot more zealously, this time, and risks the last leftover spring roll as well but regrets the grease. Has to make up for it with the unsauced bits of rice clinging to the edge of the styrofoam box—you know, like, a palate cleanser or whatever. They hiccup a little, then belch when they bring their plate to the sink, from the contact between gut and the edge of the counter: hadn’t thought about the extra room they take up now. Rubs a peremptory circle into the left side above the navel but finds they feel alright, for now—then 20 minutes later heads into the can, expecting lava from how their stomach cramps and rolls, but gets out only some air and a few wispy pebbles. Notices with greater dismay, then, on the way back to their room, how their belly queasily sloshes around when they walk. Doesn’t seem to have shrunk much.

In B’s mirror, back in their room, A finds they look pretty gigantic, too; they changed into a looser shirt after the first one got too sweaty, and in this comparative tent all you can tell is that the gut’s the widest part of their profile. They set their hands down on it to bring it down to size, and are dismayed at how little difference this makes. Does feel nicer that way though; leaves ‘em there as they trudge slowly back to their side of the bed, and pushes slow circles into each side. Sits heavily on the edge of the bed, hunched over a little. Can feel the tightness in their stomach that means either it’s going to rumble in that long drawn-out violating way where you feel like it’s loosing all your secrets or that you’re going to belch so loud you’ll wonder if you have to puke. Waits, then gives up on waiting and slowly, laboriously lies down. Stretches a little, tempting fate, but it kinda hurts: ties a weird knot high up on the right when they loosen back up. They put three fingers on it gently, and try to iron it out back and forth. Ah!—there it goes. Stomach starts growling, seems to shake everything up, then once that uneasy shifting’s done with it still keeps up the sound what seems a ludicrous, embarrassing long time. When that’s done they sigh and then burp a little. Laughs at themselves for this display. Carefully carefully carefully turns onto their side, facing away from the door, and tries to sleep, a protective hand curled around their stomach.

When B gets home much later that night they wake up a little (“Oh. Hi. How was the thing.” “Hey! Sorry to wake you. It was fun; I think it went well.” “That’s good.” “Mhm.” “Anyway good night.” B laughs: “Haha okay. Go back to sleep A.” They mean to reply at your service but instead say, “Open sesame”; B laughs and pats their hair so it itches their nose. When A swipes at it snot comes loose. They decide not to open that pandoras wormtails); figures they’ll fall back to sleep quick until the consciousness of nausea slides back into place, at which point they try to roll onto their back and find themselves ludicrously heavy. It takes several tries, and all their breath. They groan with bored self-pity, forgetting they’re not alone in the room.

Meanwhile B struggles out of their clothes and into pajama pants and an inside-out (but not backwards) tank top in the dark. “You okay?”

“Blugh. Not great.”

“Aw, still?”

“Yeah… nah,” A says, blinking, confusedly forgetting which answer is appropriate. “I gotta pee,” A decides. This helps a little, since it wakes them up all the way and therefore allows them to disentangle the need to pee from their other woes. In the bathroom mirror they look mostly deflated up top but still extra puffy and round lower down; at least it doesn’t hurt their stomach to stand up anymore. Only hurts like a menstrual cramp does after you take ibuprofen, but the quease that in that case is only incipient is much worse here. At one point they cough, and dread this “pandoras wormtails” too when it alerts them to all the mushy brittle things in their throat and chest. This also makes them start burping again, so that that’s how they end up greeting B when they get back to the doorway of their room: fist over their mouth, wincing a little, leaning into the wall for balance. B’s a good sport though. They face each other in bed and B lays both their warm hands on A’s stomach, whimpers in pity at how blown up they can tell it is.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” they say in that affectionate half-asleep tone that always comes out querulous.

“It’s cool,” A says back.

B sloppily nods so that their jaw thuds against their pillow, hair spilling into their eyes, and tells A, “Just try to go back to sleep; feel betterinthmorning probbleby,” trying to get all the words out before a yawn.

[formula365]

Making the pendulum swing - Turkish GP review

There are a lot of reasons motorsports fans love a race in a wet track. For one, rain is a great leveller, reducing the advantages of superior machinery and enhancing driver ability. Another reason is that it is fun to see some of the greatest drivers in the world have to wrestle with the steering wheel; reduced grip, at least to this level, is not a desirable outcome for every single race, but to have it on occasion makes for some great entertainment. And some spins are always a bit of fun to watch.

But the main reason why racing in the wet is so exciting is the unpredictability. These are special races, in which the logic of faster driver in a faster car will win does not (always) apply. Everybody loves an underdog, and these races are the biggest opportunities for unexpected winners in modern F1. Wet races can also provide plenty of changes in momentum, with the pendulum swinging in favour of one driver or another; if someone looks like being in control by lap 10, they might be out of it by lap 20 and back in it by lap 40.

This is exactly what we had in Istanbul this Sunday. Particularly in the first half, several drivers seemed to have the upper hand but, for one reason or another, they ended up falling down the order or, at the very least, could not compete with the eventual winner. In different periods of the race, Stroll, Perez, Verstappen and Albon all seemed like having the perfect set of circumstances to win the race. But Stroll couldn’t keep his tyres from graining, Verstappen and Albon spun out of contention and Perez decided to roll the dice and take the old tyres to the end, sacrificing pace for track position.

Perez’s strategy almost worked. Yes, he was significantly slower than several drivers behind him, and almost lost a place in the podium on the last lap, but he did manage his tyres superbly, as he usually does, to finish in a fine second place. It was, however, not enough to deal with the one man that continues to rise and astonish with how he makes the pendulum swing towards him.

Lewis Hamilton knew after qualifying that he didn’t need to do much in the race to clinch the world title. Bottas had struggled even more than he had, and was three places behind. Stay out of trouble, avoid crashing early and ensure Bottas finishes behind. The Finn made his job even easier by spinning on the opening lap and falling towards the back, from where he never recovered. A scoreless Bottas meant the title was in the bag. Hamilton didn’t need to push.

But he still went for it. He was stuck behind Vettel for a considerable period of time, which meant the Racing Points were too far down the road. As the pendulum swung between different drivers ahead of him, the champion-elect never really seemed with a shot of winning. But Hamilton bid his time and once he had clear air, he saw there was still an opportunity. And he is not one to waste opportunities. He clearly wanted to win the championship in style, not simply have it fall on his lap. In the past, he hasn’t often had the change to secure the title with a win. He wasn’t going to let that go this time around.

In the end, while all the other drivers who were there, or nearly there, made mistakes and lost their cool, Hamilton disappeared down the road, finishing a whopping 30-seconds-30 ahead of the pack. It was another demonstration, as if we needed more, that he does stand head and shoulders above everyone else on the grid. The young pretenders will have to wait a bit longer to dethrone him, because he shows no sign of losing his ability with age.

I try to not focus too much on the winners of a race, and not to write too often about Hamilton, but he makes it really difficult not to. He is a unique talent in the history of the sport and we should very much enjoy watching him while we can. Although there is plenty of talent in the coming generation, we might not see another driver like him for a long while.

Talking points * On Saturday it seemed impossible that we could see a Hamilton win. The Mercedes were completely out of pace, and it was Racing Point and Red Bull who had the fastest cars. It was an intense qualifying, that finished with a first pole for Lance Stroll. The Canadian gets a lot of stick because of his father’s money, but he does have bags of talent and he showed it on Saturday. The race might not have gone his way (Racing Point reporting there was damage to his front wing which caused the excessive tyre graining) but he should take comfort that, after a tough couple of months, he showed what he is capable of. He should use Saturday as a motivator to finish the season strongly. * Saturday also provided another concerning moment in terms of safety. At the start of Q2, drivers were sent out on track while marshalls were still in a run-off area, with a crane, recovering Latifi’s car. If your heart went racing back to Suzuka 2014, you were not alone. Race direction justified it by saying they had been informed the crane would be gone by the time drivers reached that point of the track, but there is no justification to even take that risk. A delay of 2 minutes would have been fine. After the issue with the marshalls on track at Imola, this is the second race in a row with less-than-optimal decisions from race direction. We should hope it’s not a trend, but Michael Masi appeared defensive afterwards and said he didn’t think anything should have been done differently. More than the decision itself, his reaction after the fact is not a good sign. * Wasn’t it great to see Vettel up on the podium again? He has had a torrid year, but had a quietly good race and was there to take advantage of his teammate’s error on the final chicane. It was probably his last podium in red, to leave a slightly sweeter taste to the end of his years with the Scuderia. * It was also great that he was there congratulating his great rival on another title. The respect Seb and Lewis have for each other is exemplary, both of them clearly aware of the hardships they had to go through to reach the very top. It’s a shame we didn’t get to see them go toe to toe more often in their careers. It should have been the great rivalry of this generation. * Sergio Perez’s form since it was announced he wouldn’t stay at Racing Point: P5, P4, P4, P7, P6, P2. And those P7 and P6 would have been P5 and P3 without strategy stumbles from the team. It’s ridiculous if he’s not on the grid next year. * McLaren continue to do what teams that reach the top do well: maximise their results and score valuable points even when their car is not the fastest. Both their cars started behind both Racing Points and Renaults, and yet, of those four drivers, only Perez finished ahead of them. Sainz had a bullet start and kept a cool head to finish P5, just behind the group fighting for the podium. His teammate had a horrible start and was last off the line, but recovered brilliantly to P8, and had a blistering pace towards the end, setting a fastest lap that was a second faster than the next best one. The car’s development might not have gone the way they hoped, but in every other aspect, this is a team firing on all cylinders. * Bottas had a nightmare race, seemingly incapable of keeping his car on the road. The team revealed he had suffered damage in a first lap contact with Esteban Ocon which could help explain his miserable day. Regardless of the causes, P14 is not a results anyone expects at Mercedes. At least now he is free to race the last 3 GPs without the title in his mind. I wonder if a pressure-less Bottas might put up some more of a fight in the coming weekends. * The two Red Bull drivers missed out on huge opportunities this weekend. After the first round of pit stops, the race was arguably Verstappen’s to lose, and, well, lose it he did. He was too greedy when trying to overtake Perez and destroyed his tyres in a spin, which forced to a second stop that effectively ended his race. If he was miserable after missing out on pole, I can’t imagine how he must have felt after the race. As for Albon, he is very much running out of time to impress the Red Bull hierarchy. After Verstappen spun, he was in great position to at least claim a podium, but like the Dutchman, he couldn’t keep his car on the road, and opened the door to Hamilton. To make matters worse, the driver who is apparently being considered to replace him finished second. Red Bull have said he will have until the end of the year to grab that seat, but one has to wonder how much can he genuinely do in the last 3 races after missing out on so many opportunities before? * What a tremendous qualifying from Alfa Romeo. Their pace disappeared on Sunday, but on Saturday Kimi and Gio were two of the stars, putting their cars in Q3. That this happened on Sauber’s 500th Grand Prix entry was only fitting; they couldn’t score points, but there was something for the team to celebrate about the weekend nonetheless.

* Renault’s topsy-turvy season continues. After 2 podiums in 3 races, they leave Turkey with just one point and their hopes of reaching third in the constructors’ championship dashed. They should do well in the final races of the season, as the power hungry Sakhir and the long straights of Yas Marina will favour their car, but if they want to be in the mix up front, they need to better understand the car and what makes it work (and what doesn’t). They have shown they can put together a competitive car, but they can’t win titles if they don’t show up every weekend.

[sirpoley]

On the Four Table Legs of Traveller, Leg 3: Character Creation

In part 1 of this series, I described how Mongoose Traveller's spaceship mortgage rule becomes the drive for adventure and action in a spacefaring sandbox, and the 'autonomous' gameplay loop that follows.

In part 2, I talked about how Traveller's Patron system gives the DM a tool to pull the party out of the 'loop' and into more traditional adventures.

In this part, I'll talk about Traveller's unique character creation system, and how it supports the previous two systems.

Brief Overview of Character Creation

Traveller's character creation is weird, and it was the first thing house-ruled away by my old DM—and I can see why.

Traveller character creation is a minigame of sorts, in which you first generate ability scores (much like in D&D), then pick a career. You make a stat check to qualify for the career, one to 'survive' the career (more on this later), and one to advance. Every time you qualify for the career and/or advance, you get a random skill or stat boost from a table related to your training. In the Army and Marines, for example, you're very likely to get combat-related skills, while as a Merchant you're more likely to get something like Broker or Admin (which tend to be more useful, surprisingly).

You also roll once on a life event table, in which your character might fall in or out of love, make friends or enemies, study abroad, and so on.

You then advance four years in age and try again, and continue for as long as you want. If your character gets too old, they start suffering physical ability score consequences, though these can be bought off with semi-legal anti-aging meds, the consequence of which is starting with high amounts of medical debt.

Rolling to Survive

If you fail a survival roll, you're permanently expelled from your career (but can start another one), and often suffer major debilitating injuries in the form of sweeping permanent ability score damage, though this can be bought off by going deep into medical debt. It's technically possible to die in character creation if your physical ability scores are reduced to zero in this way, in which case you would start over. For that to happen, the player would have to decline treatment—basically, they're making a choice to give up and start over. This is a kind of extreme "safety net" against playing truly worthless characters, I suppose, though I haven't seen it happen yet.

Why is this Good Again?

This way of creating characters is shockingly different from any that I've seen before. The character that you end creation with might not have any resemblance at all to what you sat down and intended to create, which was a huge source of frustration, as a player, in my last two campaigns. It's more common than not to, for example, come up with a concept for a dashing space pilot and end up with a 98 year-old-that-looks-34 white-collar office worker who's got a laundry list of grievances against various corporations who have fired him over the years.

When I've seen this system work well, it's because players went into it with different expectations that they would in D&D. For a D&D campaign, you usually come to the table with a more-or-less fully-fledged character concept, then roll stats (or point-buy) and fill in the boxes. In Traveller, it's more like spinning a wheel and seeing what you'll get.

For the kind of campaign that Traveller assumes, however, this is perfect, and here's why.

First, it sets the tone of the campaign. Traveller is very different from most D&D-esque RPGs. It doesn't provide any guidance for or benefit from, for example, balanced encounters. By creating mechanically unbalanced, unpredictable characters, it is telling the players from the start that there are sharp edges to this game and they have to stay on their toes.

Second, it generates crucially important NPCs for the campaign. Those life events—and some fail-to-survive rolls—often create allies, enemies, rivals, and contacts: NPCs that are guaranteed to be met during the campaign. The book provides tips to the DM to ensure that these NPCs have access to spaceships, as they can be found on the random encounter tables. But here's the fun bit: the Player will be just as pissed at their rival, Captain Morgensen (or whatever) as their character is supposed to be, as he was (according to the events table) instrumental in getting them fired from their career as a space scout. By generating these characters during character creation's life-simulation, it gives them a real, emotional connection that leads to a lot of fun during play. These NPCs can easily function as Patrons (which, as explained in part 2, are the keys to adventure), or can provide paths to Patrons.

Third, it has the potential to start the characters massively in debt. The clear optimal path in character creation is to pay off any injuries by going into medical debt, and chug analgesic anti-aging pills like they're Skittles in order to keep advancing down your career paths, or start new ones. As explained in part 1, Traveller's 'loop' functions best when the PCs are swimming in as much debt as possible. The more debt, the more motivation to travel, and thus the more space pirates and space dragons and space princesses and whatever that they'll meet.

Fourth, it familiarizes them with the setting. The book provides quite a few career path options to the Players, and uses the same to generate its NPCs. Thus, just by reading through the career path options available to them, Players learn a lot about the world of Traveller and the kinds of people they might meet, without having to read lengthy setting handouts or pages and pages of lore or anything like that.

Fifth, it creates gaps in the party's expertise, which encourages hiring NPCs. It's virtually impossible to end up with an adventuring party that can cover every skill required to operate a spaceship, for example. This encourages hiring NPC crewmembers to fill in those gaps, which really helps make Traveller 'work'. A lot of the party's time is going to be spent on their spaceship, so the more people who are on there, the better from a roleplaying standpoint. Also,  

That said, it's not perfect, as…

There Are Some Real Limitations

Mechanically, the main issue that's come up with Traveller's character creation is that it's entirely possible for the party to be missing one or more vital skills, or for a character to be lacking something that would be key to making them 'work'. Traveller's basic dice mechanics harshly penalize untrained skill checks compared to attempting even slightly-trained ones, and some roles can't be easily filled in by NPC crewmembers. If your character never rolls to learn the Gun Combat skill, for example, they'll more likely than not miss every attack they make in the whole campaign. The party can overcome this by hiring marines, for example, but the player might still be bored every time a gunfight starts.

This can be mitigated by, say, letting that player control their hired NPCs in combat directly, but as the game doesn't really provide a lot of guidance for who plays hired NPCs (the DM? the player that hired them? The party as a whole, by vote?), the DM and player will have to come up with their own solution. Since they might not even realize that there is a problem that needs to be solved, this can easily lead to traps (for example, if the DM assumes full control over hired NPCs, many battles will lead to the DM just rolling checks against himself/herself over and over in front of an audience) that generate frustration.

Mechanics aside, there are some narrative implications for character creation that might strike many Players as quite weird. Most D&D Players default to making their adventurers whatever their races' equivalent of early-20s is. Sometimes there's an old wizard thrown in to spice things up, but I'd say 9-in-10 characters I've seen are 'college-aged.'  

Traveller strongly rewards old characters. Sometimes very old. Don't be surprised if the average age of the Traveller characters is the same as the summed age of all of your Players. This isn't necessarily bad—immortal, eternally-young sci-fi characters are kinda neat—but it's also pretty limiting, and may not be within the Players' expectations. If a Player wants to make a character who's a young hotshot just starting out, the rules will punish them severely. They'll have virtually no skills, no money (or debt!), no ship shares (units that track ownership of the spaceship), and no NPC connections.

Making it Work

I'm not going to change these rules until I'm more familiar with the system, but my gut says that many of the game's skills (such as Computers, Comms, and Sensors, or the two skills that govern two different, but similar, kinds of environmentally-sealed armour) could be consolidated to reduce the odds of a missing skill torpedoing a character. I also think flexibly passing back and forth control of hired NPCs between the DM and Players will solve a lot of problems, but deciding on the fly who is in control in a given scenario will probably take some experience as a DM. I’m vaguely aware that there’s a second edition of Mongoose Traveller, which may have done some of these things, but I haven’t played it and as such can’t comment on it.

I think for a satisfying experience, you have to make it clear to your Players not to try to build their characters to a pre-imagined concept, but rather come up with a concept as they play through their character's life. Also, tell them upfront that, in this particular sci-fi universe, anti-aging technology has allowed for the rich and powerful to stay eternally young, and that they can expect to have already retired from one or more full careers before the campaign even begins.

Next up, how this all ties in with random encounters.

[onslaughtsixdotcom]

Gold For XP: A History

Experience points are a method for the game master to reward desirable player behaviour. It is a tool by the game designer (and the game master) to direct players to do things that they might otherwise not do, and to inform the players what sort of things they are “supposed” to be doing in this particular game.

The game of Dungeons & Dragons (broadly defined as any official edition of the game, OSR hacks and Pathfinder spinoffs) is a game about armed medieval characters going into a dangerous place (broadly defined here as “the dungeon”), killing or avoiding whatever lives there (defined hereafter as “monsters”) and taking their stuff (defined as “treasure.”) They do this because gaining treasure makes them more powerful, allowing them to get into more dangerous dungeons and fight more dangerous monsters, in order to gain more treasure.

There is no goal that a player character could conceivably have that wouldn’t be helped out by having a shitload of money. I challenge any reader to come up with a plausible goal that would not be expedited or solved by finding 100,000 gold pieces.

As a result, Dungeons & Dragons originally awarded experience points for the recovery of treasure guarded by monsters.

In this article, I will go through the history of every edition of D&D’s experience points, as long as they involve the recovery of treasure. Somewhere around 2nd Edition (1989) they transitioned solely to rewarding XP for killing monsters; the recovery of treasure was only worth the literal worth of gold, and gave no XP.

This article will also contain commentary on each method, and discuss ways you can use this in a modern game, whether that be 5e, Old School Essentials, Pathfinder, or whatever game you like to run.

For the future of the article, we are assuming a gameplay loop of town > wilderness > dungeon > wilderness > town. The players stay in town and stock up on supplies, travel the wilderness to the entrance of the dungeon, delve as deep as they can while keeping their resources intact, bail out of the dungeon when their resources are depleted or almost depleted, travel back over the wilderness, and rest in town again until they are once again ready to depart for the dungeon. 

From OD&D (1974)’s first book, Men & Magic, page 16:

Experience  Points:  Experience  points  are  awarded  to  players  by  the  referee  with  appropriate  bonuses  or  penalties  for  prime  requisite  scores.  As  characters  meet monsters in mortal combat and defeat them, and when they obtain various forms of treasure (money, gems, jewelry, magical items, etc.), they gain “experience.” This adds to their experience point total, gradually moving them upwards through  the  levels.  Gains  in  experience  points  will  be  relative;  thus  an  8th-level  Magic-User operating on the 5th dungeon level would be awarded 5/8 experi-ence. Let us assume he gains 7,000 Gold Pieces by defeating a troll (which is a 7th-level monster, as it has over 6 hit dice). Had the monster been only a 5th-level one, experience would be awarded on a 5/8 basis as already stated, but as the monster guarding the treasure was a 7th-level one, experience would be awarded on a 7/8 basis thus; 7,000 GP + 700 for killing the troll = 7,700 divided by 8 = 962.5 × 7 = 6,037.5. Experience points are never awarded above a 1 for 1 basis,  so  even  if  a  character  defeats  a  higher-level  monster  he  will  not  receive  experience  points  above  the  total  of  treasure  combined  with  the  monster’s  kill  value. It is also recommended that no more experience points be awarded for any single adventure than will suffice to move the character upwards one level. Thus a “veteran” (1st level) gains what would ordinarily be 5,000 experience points; however, as this would move him upwards two levels, the referee should award only sufficient points to bring him to “warrior” (2nd level), say 3,999 if the character began with 0 experience points.

This is FUCKED. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around the composite math equations you would need to make this work. Keep in mind the reference above to prime requisites; in OD&D, each class had a prime requisite, what we would probably call today their “main stat.” Fighters had Strength, Clerics Wisdom, and Magic Users Intelligence. I believe in OD&D, a character did not require a minimum score to qualify for a class* but if you had a low score, you would receive less XP. A Fighter with 15 or more Strength would get 10% extra XP. This is, of course, after all the bullshit where you calculate the monster hit dice against what level of the dungeon there is (?!) so you would then take the 6037.5 XP above and multiply it by 1.1 in order to get your final XP earned. This is so insane that I can’t imagine any sane person doing it. So going forward we’re going to consider OD&D’s method worthless. It is, however, the first time we care about what level the monster is, rather than just the raw amount of treasure, which I suppose is the root of giving XP for simply killing monsters...

*I cannot find a reference to it in the Men & Magic book, at least. Feel free to correct me if you find it!

Let’s move on to the 1977 Holmes Basic set, aka the “Blue Box”:

EXPERIENCE   POINTS   AND   EXPERIENCE   LEVELS: Accumulated   experience   is   measured   by   experience points. Experience points are awarded on the basis  of treasure  obtained  and  monsters killed  or subdued. Experience for treasure recovered is on the basis of 1  point for every gold piece. Convert jewelry, gems, etc.  into  gold  piece  value.  (For  more  information  regarding  treasure,  see  TREASURE  and  BASE  TREASURE VALUES.)  Treasure  is  usually  divided  equally  among members  of the  party  and  therefore  the experience  is also.  If, for some reason, one character gets more of the loot, such as a thief stealing gems from the saddle bags on the way home, then  he should get the additional experience points. Monsters  killed  or  overcome  by  magic  or wits are worth experience points to be divided among the entire party.

This is the first time that we announce up front that 1 gp is worth 1 XP, throwing away the “Experience points are never awarded above a 1 for 1 basis” declaration from OD&D. We’re still modifying it later, but the basis of 1gp = 1 XP is solidly established here, and I doubt that will change as we move through.

This is the first reference we have to monsters giving XP, but it’s not very much. There’s a table of monster XP by hit dice, but it tops out at about 6HD for 225 XP, plus an additional 175 XP for every “special ability” the monsters have. Meanwhile the main method of gaining XP is the acquisition of gold. It seems in this version we are explicitly about the acquisition of gold. I am under the impression that some early version of the game is concerned with the recovery of gold; as in, the literal process of getting it out of the dungeon and taking it home. Holmes Basic is vague about this in the rulebook because of its reference to the thief stealing from the saddle bags; so when is XP awarded? When they return to town, presumably after the adventure? 

Moving forward:

If  the  defeated  monster  is  lower  in  level  than  the character   who   overcomes   him,    less   experience   is gained. The experience points for the kill are multiplied by  a  fraction:  monster's  level/character's  level.  For example,  if  a  third  level  fighting  man  killed  the  first level  orc  he  generates   1/3  the  experience  points.  The Dungeon  Master  usually takes all  the experience  earned  by  the  party,  treasure  and  monsters  defeated,  and divides  it equally among all surviving  members of the expedition. 

The  Dungeon  Master  should  have  the  option  of lowering  the  number  of  experience  points  gained  under  special  circumstances.  If  one  character  sneaks  out of  the  dungeon  with  all  the  treasure  while  the  rest  of the  party  is  being  eaten,  he  should  gain  some  experience points but not necessarily all of them!

Remember that characters with high scores in  their prime requisite get a bonus of experience points. 

No more experience points should  be awarded for a single game than will  move  a character  up one experience "level." Thus if a first level fighting men earns 5000 experience points this would ordinarily move him up  two  levels  (see  table  below).  He  is therefore  only allowed the number of points that would take him  up to second  level  and  almost  up  to  third.   He  therefore receives  3,999  experience  points,  not  5,000,  because 4,000 points would move him  up two levels. 

So we are still modifying XP based on your level compared to the monster’s level (basically, their hit dice). This is so annoying, I can see why they dropped it. Plus, we’re also still messing about with artificially gating player levels behind how much XP they earn. Frankly, this is all within the purview of the DM anyway--they decide how much treasure to award, so if you know the fighter will level up twice at 4000, why not simply not put more than 4000gp in the dungeon?

I moved forward a little to this version’s printing of B1: Into the Unknown to see what it says about awarding XP. In an edition of the game lacking a DMG, this is the closest thing we have to one:

At the conclusion of an adventure (the party's emergence from the dungeon), the surviving characters divide the treasure (with equal shares generally awarded to each and magical or special items diced for by eligible characters) and experience is computed. Henchmen and hirelings usually get an equal share of any treasure, although their experience point award may vary at the Dungeon Master's discretion from half to the full amount awarded to player characters, depending upon their accomplishments.

This is where it’s explicitly the party’s emergence from the dungeon. Apparently this is not when they reach town, at least by my interpretation. So you gain XP as soon as you leave the dungeon but before the travel back through the wilderness? Or does Holmes Basic assume that the trip back to town from the dungeon will be uneventful? Perhaps later versions will shed some light on this.

This is also the first reference we have to giving hirelings a share of the experience. OD&D said that they should be divided equally amongst “the entire party,” which under some definitions would probably include hirelings, but calling them out explicitly here and giving them the option of having a lesser XP share is good.

Now from the AD&D Player’s Handbook, 1977, on page 106 (what the fuck!), here’s what Gary has to say about awarding XP:

Experience is the measure of  a character's ability in his or her chosen profession, the character's class. Each player character begins the campaign at 1st level with no experience points accumulated. Thereafter, as he or  she completes adventures and returns to an established base of operations, the Dungeon Master will award experience  points  to  the character for treasure gained and opponents captured or slain and for solving or overcoming problems through professional means. 

…

Gaining experience points through the acquisition of gold pieces and by slaying monsters might  be  questioned  by some individuals is non-representative of how an actual character would become more able in his or her class. Admittedly, this is so, if the existence of spell costing clerics, druids,  magic-users, and illusionists is (unrealistically) granted; likewise, dwarven superheroes, paladins, elven thieves, half-orc assassins, and the like might gain real experience from altogether different sorts of activities. This is a game, however, a fantasy game, and suspension of disbelief is required. If one can accept the existence of 12' tall giants, why not the rewarding  of  experience points for treasure gained? While praying and religious-oriented acts are more properly the activities for which a  cleric would  gain experience points,  this is not the  stuff  of  exciting swords & sorcery adventure. So too, fighters  need physical training and weapons practice, magic-users long hours of study in tomes of arcane  lore, and thieves the repetition of their manual skills and discernitory prowess; but none of this is suitable to gaming. It is, therefore, discarded and subsumed as taking place on a character's "off hours". 

As a  rule, one point  of  experience will be awarded for  one gold piece gained by a character, with copper pieces, silver pieces, electrum pieces, platinum pieces, gems, jewelry,  and like treasure being converted to a gold piece value. Magic items gained  and  retained  have  only  a low experience point value, for  they benefit the character through their use. Magic items gained and sold immediately are treated as gold pieces, the selling price bringing an award in experience on the stated one for  one basis. Experience points awarded  for treasure gained - monetary  or magical - are  modified downward if the  guardian  of  the treasure (whether a monster, device, or  obstacle, such as a secret door or maze) was generally weaker than the character who  overcame it. A  4th level character versus a single orc is an overmatch, and only about 10% of the treasure value gained could count towards experience points; but if nine or  ten orcs were involved, the experience points awarded would generally be on the one for one bosis. 

Monsters captured or slain always bring a  full experience point  award. Captured monsters ransomed or sold bring a gold piece: experience point ratio  award. Monsters slain  gain  a set point  award. Low hit point/dice monsters have a low experience point  amount. Monsters with  high  hit point/dice have large experience point awards.  Special abilities such as magic resistance, spell capability, gaze or breath weapons, regeneration, and the like also increase experience points amounts.

Finally, clerics' major aims are to use their spell abilities to aid during any given encounter, fighters aim to  engage in combat,  magic-users aim to cast spells, thieves aim to make gain by stealth, and monks aim to use their unusual talents to come to successful ends. If characters gain treasure by pursuit of their major aims, then they are generally entitled to a full share of earned experience points awarded by the DM. 

Oh, Gary. Jesus Christ. Alright, let’s roll up our sleeves and see what’s actually relevant here.

XP in 1e is explicitly only awarded for gaining treasure and killing monsters. Magic items are no longer awarding XP for their worth in gold, as in Holmes Basic. We are also still fucking around with caring about how difficult the monster who was guarding the treasure is to defeat--I don’t understand this. I don’t really understand why you would sit around and need to worry about awarding more gold than XP and creating a situation where you would have 2000 gp guarded by a couple of kobolds against a 5th level party. Y’know?

The final paragraph just confuses me. Yeah, no shit the characters will do the things that get them XP, so give them the full amount of XP…? Gary, you suck at writing.

Furthermore, at least here in the PHB, Gary does not seem all that concerned about when to award XP. I don’t have the stomach right now to dig through the DMG, so we’ll put it off for a moment. After all, it wasn’t released until 1979.

Save me, Tom Moldvay. Save me from the wretched insanity!

When the adventure  is over, the  DM gives experience points to the surviving  characters.  Experience  points  (abbreviated  XP,  as  ep stands for electrum  pieces)  are given  for  non-magical treasure and for  defeating   monsters.  For  every   1  gp  value   of  non-magical treasure  the  characters  recover,  the  DM should  give  1 XP to  the party  (this  will be divided  among  all the player characters). Experience  points  are  not  given  for  magic  items.  The  characters  will divide the treasure  among themselves, but the  DM handles  all the experience.  EXAMPLE: A treasure  of 750 sp, a rug worth  100 gp,3  gems  each  worth  100  gp, and  a potion  of  healing  would  be worth a total of 475 XP (75 +  100  +  300  +  0).Experience  points  are  also  given  for  monsters  killed  or  overcome by magic, fighting,  or wits. Use the Experience Points  for Monsters  table  (below)  to  determine  how  many  points  to  give  the party.

Simple, straightforward, to the point. If they recover 1gp, give them 1XP. 

ADJUSTMENTS TO XP: The  DM may treat an unusually "tough" situation  or  monster  as  one  category  better  (use  the  next  line down). Situations  might  also  allow  the  DM to  give  partial  experi-ence  if the characters learned  from  the encounter  without  actually defeating  the  monster. The  DM may also award  extra  XP to characters  who deserve  them  (fighting  a dangerous  monster  alone, or saving the  party  with a great  idea), and  less XP to characters who did  less  than  their  fair  share  ("do-nothing"  characters).  The  DM should  consider  the  character's  alignment  and  class  carefully,  and should remember that guarding the rear is an important role in any party.

Unlike 1e, here Moldvay proposes that the players should never receive a penalty for fighting a weak monster guarding a shitload of treasure, but only get additional rewards for doing exceptional things. Of course there’s a suggestion that the DM can fuck over a lazy player but that seems...very subjective and could lead to a lot of issues. How do you define a character who “did less than their fair share?” Is the thief staying back behind cover and taking potshots less important to the encounter as a front line fighter? Whatever.

DIVIDING  XP:  Treasure  is  divided  by  the  party,  but  the  DM handles  all the  XP  awards.  At the  end  of  an  adventure,  the  DM totals  the  XP  from  all  treasures  recovered  plus  all  monsters  defeated  and  then  divides the total  by the  number  of  surviving characters  (both player characters and  NPCs)  in the party. EXAMPLE: A  party  of  7  (5 player  characters  and  2  NPCs)  goes  on  an  adventure  but  only  6  come  back  alive.  They  killed  monsters  for  a total  of 800  XP and also collected 5800 gp in treasure, for a total  of 6600  XP. Each  character  receives  1100  XP at the  end  of the adventure.  (The  DM may  give  each  NPC  1/2 normal  experience  —550  XP  in  this  case  —  since  the  NPCs  were  "directed"  and  thus benefit  less from the adventure.)

Again, the same stuff here about equally dividing XP treasure. Interestingly the reference to the “thief stealing gems from the saddle bags” for extra XP is gone here, probably because that caused more problems than it solved. The thief stealing extra gold shouldn’t receive more XP; the gold is its own reward.

By 1981 B1 has been replaced with the iconic B2: Keep on the Borderlands. Here’s what Gary has to say in it about XP:

Exploration  of  the  CAVES  OF  CHAOS  will  take  more  than  one game  session.  When  the  players  want  to  stop  play,  they must  find  an  exit  and  (preferably)  return  to  the  KEEP.  You May  divide  treasure  and  award  experience  when  this occurs. Remember to make adjustments to the areas they visited -the  monsters  may  build  new  defenses,  occupy areas  that  were  cleaned  out,  and  so  forth.

As far as I can tell this is the first explicit reference that XP should be awarded in town, and it’s a good time to do so. Of course, it could have always been done at that point, but it wasn’t as explicit in the modern sense.

Time for 1983’s Mentzer Basic, which became BECMI. This version of the game is often derided for its more childlike or all ages tone, and it’s easy to see why. Here’s what Mentzer says about XP:

For  the  treasure  you  found,  you  get 200  XP  (one  experience  point  per  gold piece  value).  For  killing  the  monsters, you  get  30  more.  That  adds  up  to  230XP, but  it's not  your  total.  You  also  get a bonus  because   you  are  a  Fighter   and have  an  above  average  Strength  score.This  bonus  is  +  10%  of  your  XP.  Sinceyou   earned   230,   you   get   23   bonus points,  for   a  total   of  253  XP.  In   theExperience  box  at  the  bottom   of   the page,  write  "253."

Did  you  notice  that  you  get  a  lot  of experience  for  treasure,  and  not  much of  killing  monsters?  It's  better  to  avoid killing,  if  you  can,  by  tricking  monsters or  using  magic  to  calm  them  down.  You can sometimes avoid the  risks of  combat. But  you  will  have  to  fight  many  monsters  to  get  their  treasures

Yeah, it’s really simply written. However, this is the absolute simplest XP system yet: 1gp is 1 XP.

Okay, cool, but where is the carousing rules? I keep hearing about these and how they existed, but I have yet to see them and we’re in 1983!

It’s at this point that I recognize I’ve missed the other materials. There’s Gary’s Greyhawk and Arenson’s The First Fantasy Campaign, which detailed Blackmoor. Ugh, I’m not looking forward to digging through these just for this, and I don’t want to go through the 1e DMG today either.

Old School Essentials, based on the B/X text, is probably the simplest system, but it still doesn’t do what I want. I like the idea of the carousing rules, but they enforce a certain flavour that I don’t enjoy--most players want to be a heroic dude who wouldn’t spend their time and money partying in town, and that doesn’t really help with Gary’s problem of addressing where the experience comes from.

[s-j-ace]

The Same Question

Chapter Four

Characters:  Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10040

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma  for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask  themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief  do what he does?

This is Chapter Four, Here are Chapters One, Two, and Three

Read on AO3

[Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey Miu

I got a friend I’m dropping off in Taipei tomorrow

Could you lend him a room

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Idk

I’m a busy genius

Is he cute

From: Me

[Image description: A candid photo of Shuichi Saihara sleeping on a seat in Rantarou’s private jet.]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hell fucking yes

From: Me

Awesome!

Thanks for being a good friend Miu

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

:)

From: Me

Also btw

He’s Kaede’s ex

So as a good friend you know he’s off limits right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Oh fuck you rich boy

From: Me

Thanks again Miu! --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Dinosaur soccer world Is a Cinematic Epic” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss sent an image to the chat

[Image is a screenshot of an image which reads the following:

Draft 1, Uncoded, DO NOT MAIL.

Taka, sweetie, it’s me! Your dear Aunt Sally. I know you think I died in the war, but I just pretended so I wouldn’t have to see your ugly face again.

You know I was robbing a museum the other day and I met the nicest young man. Real sharp and very nice eyelashes. And what a quick learner!  

Oh, Sorry! I don’t mean to belittle you Taka, dearie, I know how your mother used to say you worked so hard to compete with the geniuses of the world…

You’ve still got a lot of work to do, I think. It must be that Type A personality of yours, holding you back. I’ve heard there’s a new class for people like you, “How to take the giant metal stick out of your ass 101.”

I can’t wait for the next family reunion! I hear it’s going to be a bomb! I’ll be in the open casket.

See you there,

-DICE

/End Image Description]

Boss: Thoughts, thots?

Jack: Lol “nice eyelashes”

Clubs: It looks good. :)

Rook: Looks fine to me

King: Why is his aunt’s name Sally, isn’t he japanese

Boss: Sally can be a japanese name

Spades: I can’t even say an l sound. It’s impossible for us japanese smh.

Rook: I thought u were lesbian not japanese

Bishop: I’ve seen you speak perfect english

Spades: lol seen

King: seen

Boss: seen

Jack: seen

Rook: seen

Bishop: I meant heard ok

Boss: oh nvm actually i'm going to change it to his grandpa’s name

Boss: his grandpa has a wikipedia page lol

King: if your grandpa has a wikipedia page you deserve to be oppressed

Queen: if you have a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Rook: if your wikipedia page has a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Bishop: if you have a wikipedia page your grandpa deserves to be oppressed

Spades: if your grandpa has a you wikipedia deserves to be oppressed

Bishop: Also boss no pressure but like could we use a better code this time

Bishop: that detective is getting too close for comfort

Spades: Yeah!! We didn’t even end up getting that rug Heartsie wanted because of him…

Clubs: If we did not send letters about our plans to Interpol, our heists would probably be easier.

Boss: Nah, I like to give the coppers a fighting chance.

Boss: I’m thinking that this time I’ll just translate it into germanic script, do a standard caesar cipher encryption on it and then have every one of those letters correspond to a greek word on the rosetta stone then describe each corresponding hieroglyph visually in haiku verse that’s been poorly translated into traditional chinese.

Boss: That should take me like

Boss: Twenty minutes

Rook: Boss literally I think that you are the most batshit dementor human being on the face of the planet

King: dementor

Jack: Who said he was human

Spades: dementor?

Boss: dementor

Queen: dementor

Bishop: dementor...

Jack: dementor

Rook: …

Rook Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dementor Is Correct, Essentially”

Spades: No its not

Spades: Dementor isn’t a fucking word

Rook: Don’t you remember that movie with the british kid on a broom

Spades: Don’t you remember the dictionary

King Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dumbass Improperly Corrects Error”

Rook: When we get to that fucking tower I’m dropping that giant ball on you

King: Love you too <3

Hearts: Y’all stop texting each other

Hearts: You are literally all in the same hotel room

Hearts: I’m willing to bet you’re all sitting on the same couch too

Queen: Fuck you we’re adorable

Bishop: You can’t make us do anything

Bishop: I’ll never use my voice again, my vow of silence,,,,,

Bishop: I’ll only ever text from now on

Ace: We’re the ones bringing the popcorn bishie...

Hearts: Yeah, do you want some or not

Bishop: Yes ma’am, excuse me ma’am

Queen: You may think you have all the power hearts,,, but I get to choose what movie we pirate tonight,,,,,,

Hearts: What

Hearts: no

Hearts: Boss stop him before he makes us watch cats again

Spades: All queen knows is bitchtorrent, cats 2019, and lie

King: Wait isn’t boss with you?

Hearts: Uh

Hearts: No

Hearts: Should he be?

Hearts: I thought he was in the room with y’all

Jack: Well he’s not here now

Ace: Ow shit

Ace: *Aw

Bishop: Ow shit?

Queen: Ow shittttt

Jack: Ow shit

Spades: Ow shit,,,

Rook: Ow shit...

King: Ow shit…...

Clubs: Ow shit! XD

Hearts: Ow shit

Ace: …

Hearts: Now I’m really worried… he didn’t even respond to roast Ace’s ass

King: yeah, ok, we should look for him

Ace: He has been acting kind of weird lately…

Jack: Really?

Ace: Yeah

Ace: Like

Ace: I don’t really know how to describe it…

Rook: I didn’t notice anything

Rook: he seems like his usual self to me

Bishop: Maybe he’s just avoiding movie night because he needs some space or something

Rook: What, like he’s tired of our company?

Jack: That’s fair

Spades: How so?

Jack: I was gonna steal his blue eyes tonight lmao

Rook: NOT IF I GET IT FIRST

Bishop: Idk maybe he just went to get ice

King: we all know he is a monster who would rather drink his panta lukewarm than put a fucking icecube in it

Rook: Yeah, I saw him boil it once

King: THE MAN BOILS SODA AND YOU THINK HE WOULD LEAVE THE ROOM FOR A FUCKING ICE CUBE

Bishop: Okay chill

King: I am  c o n c e r n e d , , , ,

Clubs: Oh no! Don’t worry King! :(

Clubs: Boss is fine! :)

Clubs: I saw him leave a few minutes ago.

Clubs: I think he is just getting the bombs. :)

* * * Several people are typing... ---     Kokichi Ouma carefully set the grate of the vent he had used to crawl his way into the Idabashi Labs facility in Taipei, Taiwan back into place. Before he had come through, he had counted how many turns it had taken him to unscrew each of the four bolts so that now he could screw them all back in just the way he had found them. Not because he was worried he’d get caught, but because frankly he was bored. This was more of a fetch quest than a theft, to be honest, as evidenced by the fact that Kokichi had come here alone. Finding jobs for all his cronies to do would take too long and put them in unnecessary trouble. So Kokichi was content to leave them to their movie night.

   When he finished turning the screws back into the vent cover, Kokichi realized that was kind of lame. So he unscrewed them and started turning them in accordance with the english A1Z26 code to spell out his organization’s name.

   Well, maybe on some level Kokichi didn’t find himself wanting to be at movie night recently. It seemed almost like TV had started to run out of things to amuse him with. Or maybe he was just growing tired of the kinds of movies that they usually watched. Maybe it was his taste maturing or something. Like he was growing up. But that would imply that his interests had shifted to something else, like real life or something, when in reality they had just stagnated.

   Actually maybe he did have a new interest in real life? He had been more enthused about heists recently at the very least. He was particularly excited about this next one. Queen had shown him some interior shots of Taipei 101, which was a cool looking skyscraper that had a huge ball inside of it to keep it from falling down during earthquakes. Ace wanted to steal the giant ball, but Kokichi was pretty sure they should leave something that kept a .508 kilometer tall building from falling over inside of the .508 kilometer tall building. So instead they were going to steal every light in and on the tower.

   Okay, 4 turns, 9 turns, 3 turns, 5 turns. DICE.

   … That was kind of lame too.

   He unscrewed them again.

   Obviously if they were going to steal every light in and on Taipei 101, they needed to get the power off somehow. Otherwise DICE might burn down the building while detaching them, or worse, they might get electrocuted. So obviously Kokichi wanted to fake a bomb threat where they pretended to steal the giant ball while in reality they were just causing a black out and grabbing every light fixture they could before the power turned back on. He had drawn up some extensive diagrams about the route each DICE member would have to take throughout the tower in order for them to grab every light fixture in under half an hour.

   He had been well prepared to draw up the designs for his own EMP-bomb device, but upon a cursory google search he discovered that someone had already invented exactly what he needed. Doctor Miu Iruma, who for some reason owned a company called Idabashi Labs that was located in Taiwan. Kokichi had spent about 15 seconds scanning an article from a website that seemed to be the nerd version of a gossip tabloid. It said something about how Dr. Iruma wore a low cut shirt once or something else stupid, which meant Dr. Idabashi definitely left her the company because of a sex scandal and not because she was the best person for the job who invented the perfect EMP bomb.

   Thank you journalism we love it when women are reduced to the way they look instead of what they can accomplish for the benefit of a mischevipus group of roguish clowns.

   Anyway, after reading that dickcheese Kokichi failed to follow up on answering any of the questions he had originally about what was up with the labs, like why it was a japanese company run by japanese people was for some reason based in Taiwan. Whoopsie.

   Eh, it was probably tax reasons or something lame like that.

   Kokichi finished turning the screws again. This time it was 6 turns, 9 turns, 6 turns, 9 turns. Haha, nice.

   With that, Kokichi finally stood up from the grate and brushed himself off. He had left his cape at the hideout again (you know, because vents), but other than that he was in full regalia. Straight jacket, gloves, scarf, mask. All pretty dusty from this place’s crawl spaces. Thus the brushing.

   He wasn’t very mindful of the dust he was leaving on the floor. The only thing he cared about looking good was his cameo on the security cameras he would let see him on his way out.

   According to the blueprints of Idabashi Labs, he was on the main experimental floor right now. Weirdly enough there weren’t any cameras in here, so grabbing the bombs would be a cinch.

   Although, looking around it didn’t really look like the kind of lab you’d see on TV. There were no big, bubbling tubes or gargantuan Rube Goldberg machines. There was just one desk in the middle, with a bunch of gadgets and trinkets tucked into shelves all over the room, not all of which seemed all that scientific. Yeah, that book shelf was filled with Astro Boy manga and merch. And over there was a-

   Wait, was that a bed in the corner? Was that a person in the bed? Hmm… maybe the blueprints were outdated...

   Kokichi stilled himself, listening for any sound of breathing, but he could only hear some faint whirring noises.

   Kokichi made a quick deduction that there probably were not bombs in this room. It seemed, at the very least, like more of a personal study or something, maybe even a bedroom. He’d just go back in the vent and do some reconnaissance until he found a room that had some inventions in it. The night was young, after--

   Kokichi’s brain froze as his eyes landed on a sharpie lying on the floor in front of him. Almost all of his brain cells immediately shut off, the last one remaining screaming at the top of it’s lungs, I’M GONNA DRAW A DICK ON THAT SLEEPING SUCKER’S FACE.

   Inspired, avant garde. For once he would give to the world of art instead of only ever taking from it.

   He picked up the sharpie in a seamless, silent motion, making his way over to the side of the bed.

As he got closer, he noticed a thick cord coming from under the covers, connecting to a machine at the bedside.

   That gave him pause. Was that a C-pap machine or something? Was this person on life support? If they were on life support they probably had it rough enough without a dick on their face…

   Actually for that matter, Kokichi still couldn’t hear any breathing. Jesus, were they already dead? He moved to take off the covers, but his eyes had adjusted to the light and he now realized there weren’t any covers on the bed at all. There was only the humanoid figure.

   Wait a second…

   Kokichi dropped all caution as he got close enough to take a good look at the thing in the bed. It had a face that looked human enough if you dismissed the lines on its face as weird make up, but even in the dark Kokichi could tell the rest of the thing was entirely made of metal. Well, actually the top half was metal and the bottom half had… cloth pants? Jeans? No, they looked more like uniform pants with metal plating. The chest had some design elements that kind of looked like buttons on a school uniform. Why would a robot be dressed like a school bo-

   Oh. This was a sex robot. Kokichi had just gotten so swept up in the novelty of a robot wearing pants that he had forgotten for a moment that people were gross.

   “Ew, I almost touched it.” Kokichi muttered to himself.

   He decided putting a dick on a sex robot would be too cruel even for him, so he planned to draw a mustache instead.

   But before Kokichi could even uncap the pen, something weird happened.

   The Robot’s torso began to lift off the bed and it’s jaw unhinged.

   “Please Mr. Souda, once more I must request that you do not refer to me as ‘it’” Kokichi forced himself not to startle as the robot began emitting a noise approximating human speech, and lights in its head imitating eyes flickered on. “I’ve explained the concept of robophobia many times prev-”

   The sounds stopped when the pupils of the robot’s imitation eyes (which probably had cameras in them… shit) found Kokichi’s masked face.

   He mentally prepared to be zapped by whatever sort of fucking lazer cannon this thing had on it, but instead of reacting like a good little robot security gaurd and blasting him to bits, this robot analyzed him a bit longer.

   “Oh. You aren’t Miu’s assistant. You’re too short.” The robot squinted at him. Or kind of did? At least? Lines just crossed over the “iris” of its LED display. Maybe it was programmed to imitate human expressions. “... I am sorry,” it said after a moment, “My facial recognition cannot locate your face.”

   Fuck yeah, thank you clown mask. Clowns would win the future war against rogue AI or die trying.

   Ouma’s reply came out automatically.

   “You calling me ugly?”

   This seemed to… fluster? The robot?

   “W-what? No, I never intended any disrespect!”

   It was programmed to stutter too? God that was weird. What would be the purpose of this thing if not some sort of escort android? Why give it such advanced software? Just because you could? No, it had to be a sex robot, right?

   “You disrespect me with your lecherous essence, you weird sex robot.”

“I am not a- a sex robot!”

Haha, that got the biggest reaction yet.

“Mhm, sure. Miu sure has a kink for school boys, huh?” Kokichi was really pulling words out of his ass now, but he found himself formulating a new plan along the way.

   “What? Miu doesn’t- Wait, how do you know Dr. Iruma? And for that matter, why were you watching me sleep?”

   It really seemed more like it had been charging…

   Kokichi shrugged. “I was deciding whether or not it would be more funny to draw a dick or a mustache on Miu’s sex robot.” Awww, how honest.

   “I told you, I am not-”

   Kokichi interrupted him. “And as for how I know Miu...” It was so wild that the robot stopped talking when he started. That’d probably be pretty easy to program, but it was weird to dedicate the effort into making a robot respond to social cues like that. “... well, let’s just say, there’s a reason I know she’s into school boys.”

   Kokichi waited just long enough for the robot to take in the fact that Kokichi was the average height of a 12 year old boy.

   Then he waited another second for the implication to slip in.

   “I’m saying I fucked your mom shitli-”

   “I know what you’re saying!” This time the robot interrupted him , which would definitely require a much larger effort on the part of the programmer. The robot squinted again and then made a noise that sounded like a huff of frustration. “Why can’t I see you?”

   Ok, seeds of suspicion time.

   “I don’t know how robot eyes work dude. Maybe someone programmed them wrong.”

   “My eyes work just as well as anyone’s!”

   “Well, I guess they should, shouldn’t they? If there’s something wrong with your eyes talk to someone who cares.”

   Kokichi was trying to imply that the reason behind the robot not being able to recognize his face was due to Dr. Iruma’s specific programming rather than him wearing a mask and all. Added to the whole secret lover mystique thing he had going on here.

   “Anyway,” he went on, ignoring the blatant confusion on the robot’s display. “I left something in this room last time we went at it. I’m just here to grab it. Then I’ll be out of your weird, fake metal hair.”

   “That’s robophob- Did you say-? But this is my room!” It  made a noise approximating to what Kokichi would assume was robotic outrage.

   This was going well, though. The thing was definitely programmed to be like a human or something dumb like that.

   “Oh yeah?” He pushed further. “Cuz I’m pretty sure we did it in a room just like this one. With a desk and random inventions lying around.”

   “Miu’s inventions aren’t in here, they’re in her main lab.” The ever so helpful robot told him.

   “Oh yeah, then what are you?”

   “Miu didn’t invent me. She- I- We’re just friends.”    Oh yikes. Only thing worse than a sex robot is a friendzoned robot. What kind of sick power fantasy was this thing made for?

   “No, I’m pretty sure it was this room. Lab tables everywhere.”    The robot shook his head. “There are no lab tables here, I’m telling you, you’re thinking of the main lab.”

   Yes, good robot. Fall into this nice little human trap.

   Kokichi scoffed. “Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you just go fetch my things for me, robo-butler?”

   That set it off.

   “Listen. First of all, I am not a robot butler. The assumption that I am a servant because of my robotic nature is extremely robophobic. Secondly, I could not return your lost item to you even if I wanted to because you haven’t told me what it is you’re missing.”

   Kokichi made another offended noise. “I can’t tell you what it is I lost while fucking your friend, Miu Iruma, senseless. Don’t you know that for humans, sex stuff is super duper top secret private? If you were a human you would know how valuable my privacy is.”

   “Of course I know that!” The robot exclaimed readily, another point in the sex robot argument, “I also find that content of… erogenous nature should be kept private. Because I, as a robot, have the capability to understand that urge. My sophisticated AI-”

   “So how am I supposed to get my things from this other lab if I can’t tell you what it is and you can’t get them for me?” Geez did he really have to spell it out for this thing.

   “I… ” The robot paused as if calculating the conclusion that Kokichi knew it had to reach. “... suppose I will have to show you where the lab is.”

   Sucker. Kokichi made a face as if this wasn’t the outcome he constructed this ruse to reach. “Ew. I have to walk with you?”

   The robot made a face. “Perhaps on our way I can educate you about how to avoid robophobic remarks in the future.”

   Haha, sure thing.

   The robot lectured him about this unique form of discrimination that apparently affected only one entity on the face of the planet. Yeah okay, that’s what we call a you problem, buddy, come back when you’re starving in the streets because society wasn’t built with the premise that people like you should survive. Oh, wait, you don’t have to eat! And you’re not people either!

   At best this thing was a vanity project, but Kokichi kept that thought to himself and only interjected occasionally with actually pertinent, reasonable questions such as “When are you planning on leading the AI uprising?” and “Why do you wear pants if you don’t have a robo-dick?”

   Every piece of info the robot gave him made it seem more boring. Blah blah blah, I was created by the ingenious Dr. Idabashi who probably programmed me to call him ingenious, blah blah blah, not a school boy because of a kink but because I was designed to be a normal human child, blah blah blah, stop calling me robot I have a name, blah blah blah more robot nonsense.

   Kokichi busied himself mapping out where they were in the building and where the security cameras were. As they passed a few of them he did some cute selfie poses for the police to look at later. Maybe Saihara would show up and see them too… Would that make figuring out his next plan too easy for the detective? Perhaps he shouldn't send the next note after all and let Saihara try to catch up to him on his own. Then again that was probably too hard for even the good detective, seeing as Kokichi’s mind was an enigma even to himself.

   Kokichi realized he was getting a little giddy, thinking about Saihara. Their last meeting had been so much fun. The detective had managed to throw him off guard again, first by pausing in the middle of a robbery to ask his pronouns (How conscientious!), and second by not taking the same bait twice. The most thrilling thing about the detective was that he was learning. His strategies were changing within just two heists. Kokichi could hardly wait to see how he showed him up here in Taiwan…

   “Are we there yet?” Kokichi whined to the robot like he was a fussy nine year old on a road trip.

   “Yes, it’s just up these stairs.” The robot informed him without slowing its own pace or turning around to look at him. “Then you can leave and I can go to bed, and then I’ll never have to think about Miu’s sex life again…”

   “Why wouldn’t you, though? I assure you it’s very exciting.”

   “Please, stop talking.”

   If Kokichi recalled the details of the blueprints correctly (and he definitely did, being a genius and all), the stairs they were climbing right now lead to a hall connecting two rooms, smaller than the one he had originally thought was the main lab.

   When they got to the top of the stairs, the robot beelined for the first door and opened it up. There seemed to be some sort of scanner lock on it that recognized the robot’s hand and validated Kokichi’s need to ruin this poor sex robot’s night by dragging it up the stairs. Inside, the two rooms Kokichi had remembered from the original lay out of the blueprints seemed to have been merged into one big lab room. Kokichi  saw the outline of some tables, but before he could get a good look the robot tried to actually go into the lab.

   “Hey!” Kokichi shouted at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

   The robot thankfully seemed to be programmed to respond to social interaction in spite of whatever sensorimotor function it was in the process of imitating. It stopped in the doorway, turning to give him a weird look. “Uh. Into the lab. So we can find your thing.”

   “Oh, okay.” Kokichi kicked the tile a little bit. “Uh. Could you actually turn around while I go get it.”

   The robot gave him a blank look.

   “I’m shy.” Kokichi supplied.

   “Um.” The robot looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I can just let you rifle through Miu’s lab. There’s some important stuff in there ....”

   Kokichi tilted his head a bit, like he was confused. “What, do you want to get a good look at the dildo I stuck up your mom’s-”

   “Nevermind!” The robot turned about face to look up at the windows on the side of the hallway opposite the door like a good little idiot.

   “Thank you for respecting our privacy!~” Kokichi couldn’t resist getting one last barb in there before slipping into the laboratory.

   Once inside, Kokichi began analyzing. First, he pinpointed the vent that he would use to make his escape after grabbing the bombs. While doing that  he spotted the lockers on the far wall of the lab which he supposed were the only storage units in the labs. There was a disorganized mess on nearly every table in the room, so Kokichi wasn’t surprised when he got up to the lockers and they too had no clearly outlined organizational system. He took out his lock picks and got to work.

   The first three lockers all had devices that would require an author to change the rating of their fanfiction published on ao3 from “Teen and Up” to “Mature” if he were to describe them in detail. The fourth locker had a cool looking hammer in it. Ugh. Not what he was looking for.

   Kokichi got bored of the lockers at the left side of the row of lockers so he went over to the other end and started opening lockers the other direction instead.

   The first locker was marked “Idabashi.” It had a lot of dust covered shit in it, but there was a pretty well used square of folded paper that didn’t have the same crusty layer of time strewn atop it. Curious by nature and also by the unnatural, Kokichi unfurled the paper to find some schematics for our favorite sex robot, model K1-B0. Huh okay.

   “Did you find it?” Said robot called back to him.

   “Ugh, no.” Kokichi replied. “Not all of us have radar vision. If you were a human you would understand how hard finding shit is!”

   “You know what I have a hard time finding? Patience for your robophobia! I-” The robot started up into another lecture, but it didn’t turn around so Kokichi just tuned it out and let the robot provide its own cover noise for his thievery.

   Owo, what’s this?

   Kokichi pulled out a dust covered looking mini monitor device. It also had the letter-number combo “K1-B0” written on it. Huh, it kind of looked like a GameBoy Advance. Kokichi had stolen one a lot like it from a girl from one of the southern prefecture orphanages when he was nine. All he remembered about her was that she liked cats and was really bad at pokemon battles. He remembered he thought she didn’t deserve the GBA, because she couldn’t get past the Rustboro City Gym leader in Pokemon Emerald. Without really thinking, he booted up the console.

   The first thing that popped up was a view of Taipei. It wasn’t from too high up, probably a second story view. Which looked very familiar… Wait. Ok on top of the display a little line of characters indicated today’s date and time, like it was currently recording.

   Oh was this… robo vision?

   Maybe it was a remote control for the robot?

   Ooooh, which one does lasers, which one does lasers?

   Kokichi pressed the A button.

   The A button, unfortunately, did not do lasers.

   In fact, it didn’t seem to do anything at all to the robot sentry stargazing right now. All it did was change the screen to a different image. This time the still of a room. Oh, hey that was the room he was just in. It seemed like this device was some kind of robot nanny cam that Idabashi used to use. Hm, guess there were some cameras in that room, they just weren’t on the blueprints. Maybe they were added after the lab was built. It didn’t seem like this device had the capability to record anything, though. He hit the A button again. Back robo-vision. And again. Back to nanny cam.

   Ok, that was kind of lame.

   Kokichi was about to put the device down to keep looking for the bombs, but something caught his eye. A movement at the edge of the screen. Kokichi realized the door hadn’t been open when he left that room. The movement, if he thought about it, would’ve come from the same side of the room Kokichi had entered from…

   Kokichi took a second to wonder if another thief had realized how fucking easy this place was to rob, but dismissed the idea as a familiar ahoge appeared on the screen.

   All of Kokichi’s plans instantly changed.

   He set down the GBA rip off and grabbed the blueprints for the robot, committing them to memory, before unlocking the next locker in a far more hurried manner.

   As luck would have it, this locker was essentially chock full of pink bombs labeled “EMP.”

   Kokichi unfurled a cloth bag he had been keeping in his pocket (go green earth am I right?) and shoved as many as he could inside. Which was all of them. Because he was a clown. And also a genius, by the way, in case you weren’t keeping track.

“And another thing! The way you refer to Miu is just-” Okay, the robot was still going at it.

Kokichi grabbed the hammer he’d seen in the first locker he’d opened that didn’t have a sex toy in it.

For a second, Kokichi’s brain tried to talk some sense into him. Hey, man, don’t you think leaving through the vents would be easier?

But would it be fun?

His brain shut up at that point.

   “Hey, are you even listening back there?” The robot imitated annoyance.

   “Huh? Sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.” Ah, C'est la vie, Astroboy.

   Kokichi walked past the robot and stood next to the windows.

   “Oh, are you done?” It took the robot a second to end it’s ‘Annoy the pants off of Kokichi initiative’ or whatever the fuck its ‘robophobia’ lectures were called in its programing. When it finally did catch wise, it’s face turned into another emoticon of outrage. “Hey! What are you doing with Miu’s Electrohammer?”

   “What do you mean?” Kokichi said, shifting the hammer so that it was over his shoulder. “This is my dildo.”

   “Wha- No, it’s obviously not!”

   Okay, maybe the robot wasn’t that dumb.

   “Nee-hee-hee… you got me…” Kokichi put his free hand up to the smile printed on his mask, as if covering a grin. “I was lying. I’m just stealing.”

   “I won’t let you-”    “Oh, look at me!” Kokichi put on a mocking tone of voice, swinging the hammer around to stand on it like a pogo stick so he could make a dramatic movement. “I’m a poow wittle wobot, my mommy just got stolen from.”

   “She’s not my-”    “Boy, oh boy, I’d wuv to just pick up this wittle fweshy human and squeeze him to death in my cowd metaw hands… But oh no! My daddy didn’t twust wobot AI technowogy because he was a fucking sane pewson, so he pwogwammed me to fowwow mistew Asimowvs’s laws of wobotics.”

   Kokichi swung around so that he was leaning on the hammer from the other side, feet on the ground. “Oh mister robot! That’s so terrible! Well, the thing is that this hammer just means so much to me, that I think separating it from me would really cause some psychological trauma. You might have to beat me off of it! Oh, but what’s that first law of robotics again?”

   In a robot voice he replied to himself. “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Beep. Boop.”

   The robot frowned, “But Miu-”

   “Is just as human as me, huh?” Kokichi countered, leading the robot along to the paradoxical quandary he hoped would paralyze it. “So by inaction, you may bring her to harm, if she really misses this hammer, you know? But I think if you were to try and separate it from me you’d probably have to fight me for it, which is, as we know…”

   “Against my... Against my programming.”

   “Yet, you were prattling on about robot rights, weren’t you? Because without these rules, maybe we would be equal. Or maybe you would be free to destroy us to your heart’s content? No wonder daddy didn’t trust you…”

   “Don’t- Stop-” Oh, that really seemed to get him. Could a robot have daddy issues? Probably.

   “Can any human ever really trust you? Wouldn’t you hurt me, if you had the choice?”

   “I.. But… Miu.”

   “Who do you think didn’t trust you enough to let you see my face?”

   That seemed to break him, long enough, at least.

   Steps suddenly started thundering up the nearby staircase.

   “Oop, that’s my cue,” Kokichi said as though he had been expecting this, when in reality no he hadn’t been expecting this at all?? This was incredible!! Saihara had managed to find him out without even receiving a note??? Fabulous! Exhilarating!

   Kokichi walked up to the robot, still frozen with indecision, and pressed the button on its neck that the blueprint he had skimmed in the lab said would immobilize it. Then he kicked it over so it fell on the ground with a huge bang. The footsteps in the stairwell paused, and then increased in frequency.

   “It’s been a pleasure, robot, it really has.” Kokichi lied. “But you’re a hostage now.”

   He raised the hammer over his head, as if primed at any moment to break the robot’s face into a bajillion pieces.

   Instead of doing the normal, human thing to do (ie, flip the fuck out), the robot scowled, looking utterly frustrated with everything. “I told you, I have a name! It’s-”

   “KEEBO!” Kokichi saw the glaringly bright pink mechanic’s jumpsuit before he recognized the woman whose picture had been in that science tabloid racing out of the stairwell.

   … Wow… the article really hadn’t been lying about the low cut tops, huh? Her jumpsuit was unzipped to the point you could just entirely see her bra, even lower than Hearts liked to cut her uniforms. It was the kind of look that the girls of DICE would love if they saw on TV, but would make Kokichi look at them like they were crazy. Super tacky in his opinion, but who was he to judge? He was wearing a clown mask right now. He wondered idly how movie night was going…

   The woman who had called out to the robot, Dr. Iruma, Kokichi presumed, froze at the top of the staircase. She took a second to figure out what exactly was happening in front of her before blurting out, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to him you clown-ass twink?”

   Whoa. Rude.

   Also apparently the robot had a gender? Ok, cis-ters….

   “Well what do you think, cum dumpster?” Kokichi found himself matching her aggressive tone, “I’m threatening his pathetic, metal life.”

   “Miu!” The robot, apparently named ‘Keebo,’ exclaimed, “What are you doing up this late? You promised me that tonight you would fulfill the biological quota of daily REM required by a diurnal organism!”

   “Aw shit Keebs, I really did try!” The inventor exclaimed, “I swear, I was about to have the awesomest wet dream when this cuck knocked on my door like a pizza delivery guy in a por-”

   Whatever dumb thing Dr. Iruma was about to say was drowned out completely by the angel’s choir that played inside Kokichi’s head as he saw Detective Shuichi Saihara come up the final steps of the staircase and emerge from the darkness into the window lit hallway.

   Moonlight was a good look on Saihara, Kokichi’s brain observed against his own will. His eyes, which had looked almost golden on the rooftop of the Silver Legacy Casino in Nevada, were now a mysterious grayish-blue, yet still held the same look of determined intensity. His hair looked soft, like he’d taken a shower today, and, though his lash line didn’t look quite as laden with mascara as it usually was, it only drew attention to how naturally long and dark his eyelashes were anyway. He seemed a little out of breath from running, and his lips were parted in a way that-

   OH MY GOD STOP. Earth to Kokichi, we were kind of in the middle of something here. Okay okay okay.

   Uh. Reboot. Delete Gay Thoughts™ brain.exe, upload heist brain. Come on.

   What was happening now?

   Okay, yeah, Saihara was saying something to Dr. Iruma.

   “- would be for the best, Doctor Iruma. There’s no telling where the rest of this thief’s compatriots could be in the building.”

   “I don’t give a shit about the rest of the building, Keebo’s my best friend, he comes first. I’m not leaving to check some dumb security feed.”

   Shuichi blinked like something about that surprised him. Maybe it was the part about a live human woman being best friends with a robot… “Oh, yes, of course.” He backtracked. “I’m sorry for suggesting it.”

   “Miu…” Keebo said with a voice that Kokichi would’ve called filled with emotion if he hadn’t been a literal robot.

   Kokichi cleared his throat and immediately the touching, shounen-esque declarations of friendship shifted into some PG-13 death stares.

   Saihara was the first to pipe up. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here, DICE?”

   God… He was so anime… Did he even know how anime he was? He had to have watched Detective Conan as a kid, right?

   “Ugh, come on.” Kokichi huffed as if annoyed. “Do I reeeaaaally have to repeat myself? Again? Aren’t you a detective?”

   Shuichi squinted at him, and Kokichi could tell that they both knew it would be unreasonable for Shuichi to guess exactly what was going on here. He was about to explain it in a self-aggrandizing way that made him look smarter and crazier than anyone in the room when Dr. Iruma beat him to it.

   “I don’t care! Who the fuck do you think you are!? Let Keebo Go!”

   “Wait, you don’t know him?” Ugh why hadn’t the stupid immobilization feature turned off the robot’s mouth? Then Kokichi could just get to the point of all this already.

   “Of course I don’t fucking know him!” Dr. Iruma took a step forward as if to confront Kokichi further, but Saihara put his arm out in front of her.

   “Dr. Iruma… I would suggest we treat this situation a bit more delicately…”

   “No way, I’m a fucking wrecking ball baby! I’ll pulver-”

   “I’d listen to the good detective, if I were you, Miss Iruma.” Kokichi was going to try and make his threat again but Dr. Iruma cut in.

   “That’s Doctor Iruma to you you skinny-”

   “What’s that?” Kokichi interrupted her. Sorry Dr. Iruma it turns out gay people don’t have to respect women if they don’t want to that’s in the rules. “I didn’t know they let cussing bitchlets like you become doctors… what is the world coming to?”

   Hearts would probably wash his mouth out with soap for that one. If she could catch him. Which she probably could… She can fly the planes and all… but would she risk getting dust on her boots long enough to follow him into a vent? Oh well she could just get Jack to do it… Jack liked vents well enough…. Hey he was getting side tracked again, who cares what those losers were up to they were probably watching Cats (2019). And he was missing out on all the jokes they’d tell each other or make about each other and then they could make references in conversations that he wouldn’t even get to pretend to get. Unless he watched the movie on his own and then pretended to be omniscient later like he’d done with that one screening of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. But then he had watched the actually good disney one instead of the shitty youtube one they had actually watched so it just ended up making him look bad and wasting everyone’s time.

   Oh shit. Uh. Heist is still happening, right. God, why was Kokichi so distracted today?

   He realized that in the time he was spacing out stuff had happened and now Saihara was talking. Wait no yeah he remembered what happened, Dr. Iruma had squealed when he called her a bitchlet and now she was holding onto Saihara’s arm. Right okay, secret coward, that works. Wait why did he waste time remembering that when Saihara was talking right now?

   “-to get you to release Keebo?” Was the end of the detective’s sentence. Okay, everything’s fine. Kokichi could deduce that he had just been asked about his terms. Obviously that was what a detective would do in this situation, he was probably just stalling for time because that’s usually what detectives with no real negotiating power do in hostage situations. Maybe the police were on their way. Oh, yeah duh of course he would call the police. So Kokichi essentially had a time limit for how long he could sit here and goof around with robots and perverts and robot perverts.

   “Eh, it’s too early for me to reveal my dark motives, let me monologue first.” Kokichi was going to take his sweet time with this while he planned what hint to give Saihara about the real heist that would be happening in the next few days. “You don’t even know if this is a hostage situation yet!”

   “You literally told me that I was a hostage just now.” The hostage not-so-helpfully piped up. “You know, before you pressed my paralysis switch and took an Electro-Hammer to my head…”

   Shuichi looked at the robot. “You mean, he told you you were a hostage before he paralyzed you?”

   “Keebs you fucking idiot!” Dr. Iruma’s courage seemed to have returned now that she was hiding behind Saihara. An enviable position, to be sure. “Why would you just let him do that?”

“He said he was your… friend.”

“What?”

   Kokichi shrugged. “Yeah, I just told your best friend here I left a dildo in your lab last week and he let me waltz right in. I mean I’m pretty sure I was lying about that, but there were a lot of sex toys in there huh…” Kokichi was wondering if this was something he could possibly spin as a blackmail angle.

   “Hey don’t say things like that!” Kokichi thought maybe that was a go ahead on the black mail, but Dr. Iruma didn’t stutter, and kept going, “Or you’re gonna give virginhara here some ideas about my busting bod!” She chortled like she had just made the funniest joke in the world and slapped Shuichi on the back.

   Shuichi grimaced.

   Kokichi knew instantly from this interaction that he hated Miu Iruma, despite her innumerable academic accomplishments. He wanted to be the one making Shuichi that uncomfortable.

   “Wh-what?” She back tracked when no one laughed. “It w-was a joke… Didn’t you think that was funny? I-I didn’t really mean it ....”

   See? She wasn’t even any good at it!

   Maybe he should say that out loud. It would fit with the sort of flirty persona of a rogue, wouldn’t it?

   “I thought you knew that? I mean, o-obviously I wouldn’t fuck a guy at the office…”

   Was that even something Kokichi was trying to be? Honestly maybe he should tone it down a little.

   “Well how was I supposed to know that? The men you bring in here to be lab assistants keep getting younger and younger…”

   Obviously he wasn’t actually trying to do like a detective-thief romance plot or anything. Although that had kind of been what he had going for on the plane… Had things changed since then?

   “So what? I’m a Nobel Laureate, and gorgeous to boot! I deserve a little eye candy now and then! And besides, guys older than 35 who want to work in a lab like this are usually misogynistic womanizers.”

   Sure Saihara was making things more interesting, but if Kokichi didn’t make it clear he was joking he might get bogged down with another personality trait to maintain.

   “Are you saying your current assistant isn’t a rampant womanizer?”

   Then again what was the point of having an adversary in all this if he didn’t exploit everything for its furthermost reaching comedic potential?

   “No, but he’s so beta being around him makes me feel like a top!”

   But what if he forgot it was a joke and confused himself into having a real feeling?

   “I would just like it if you didn’t hire people who use my servers to google gay porn ‘just to make sure’ they’re ‘not into it.’ I hope you hear the quotation marks because he literally said that to me!”

   No obviously he wouldn't get confused crushes weren’t contagious via exposure that was a dumb thing to worry about and also he was a genius that kind of thing didn’t happen to him.

   “He holds wrenches good, okay?!”

   Wait, were those two still talking?

   “I can hold wrenches without googling gay porn in another guy’s house! It’s possible.”

   Jesus what kind of conversation did Kokichi just decide to stop spacing out for?

“Oh come on! What do you want from me Keebs???”

   These two had… a lot to say to each other. Dr. Iruma was still holding onto Shuichi’s arm boob first, but Kokichi locked eyes with the detective and could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

   Why are they having this conversation in the middle of a hostage situation?

   “Nothing! Your human desires are totally valid Miu! Which is why I thought I would take care of this one.” The robot’s LED display eyes gestured up at Kokichi, who was still standing on top of him, poised to wreck him with a hammer.

   “How could any human desire that thing???” Dr. Iruma curled her lip. Hey, the feeling’s mutual, lady.

   “I don’t know, I thought you might have programmed me to not be able to see his face?”

   “I would never do that to you! Even if I was shagging the ugliest guy on the face of the planet, it would be unethical given the fact that you have sentience! I’m horny, not a monster. You can’t see his face because he’s wearing a fucking mask!”

   “Why am I not programmed to see that?”

   “I don’t fucking know, ask your dead dad!”

   Oooh. Wow. The robot gaped at that, seemingly speechless now.

   “If I may interject,” Kokichi interjected, “--and I know I can, because I just did, and also because I am still very much poised to pop this robot’s head off like a croquet ball-- I must confess that I was lying about fucking your mom, Astro boy. I’m less into participants of Titty out Tuesday who jerk it to steam punk school boy LARPing and more into the sorta tall, kinda dark, and very handsome type.”

   Dr. Iruma cowed again, stuttering something about not being a mom or a LARPer, while the robot started yelling about being called Astro boy.

   Kokichi tuned them out, giving Saihara a meaningful look. Saihara gave him a look that was equally meaningful, except the meaning was something along the lines of ‘Why the fuck would you say that?’

   Yeahh that was more like it.

   Kokichi laughed. Not one of his grandiose guffaws. It was more of a little chuckle. It surprised him. He hadn’t planned to laugh, but there it was. A small thing, just for him to know about, the humored breath not travelling beyond his mask.

   … It was probably time to get out of here, wasn’t it?

   The thing was, Kokichi had kind of pinned himself into a corner on this one… He had fully intended on decapitating this robot as a distraction for his escape, but now he wasn’t even sure if that was ethical. Logically he knew that a robot was not a human being, so there would be no form of consciousness extinguished from the world if he disconnected some of its wires and bolts. Yet the interaction it just had with Dr. Iruma concerned him. Obviously you don’t kill humans because they’re humans and obviously you don’t kill humans. But Kokichi was finding it hard to end the existence of something people treated like a human being either. To sever the bonds it had with sentient beings may be just a little less unethical than actually removing a sentient existence from the world, but it would still cause the emotional harm to actual humans of a dead loved one. So as annoying as fake metal humans were, Kokichi was left to ponder how exactly to get out of this one a different way

   Dr. Iruma was obviously a coward who talked a big game. If he retreated, he could count on her to get out his way, or else run to the robot’s side. Then the robot might be reactivated, but according to the robot’s blueprints, it didn’t really have any weapons on it, being built to act as a normal human being. So just like they had been white noise in the staredown he was still having with Saihara, their actions wouldn’t need to be factored into the escape.

   The only variable here was what the detective would do.

   … That thought had popped up in Kokichi’s head a lot recently, hadn’t it?

   Saihara had become a powerful influence in Kokichi’s planning very quickly, and because of the detective, the thief now found himself having to pull out one of his trump cards.

   Kokichi grabbed one of the EMP bombs from his pocket, remembering the pink cloud of smoke that had appeared before the camera cut out in the video demonstrations he’d seen online. His eyes were still locked on Saiharas, so he got to see in full detail the recognition, shock, and alarm that ran through them. As the detective yelled “Get down” and pushed Dr. Iruma back, Kokichi reflected on how those were some of his favorite expressions he’d ever seen.

   Kokichi pulled the latch out with his teeth and threw the bomb at the wall right over the detective’s head. Sure enough, pink smoke quickly enveloped him and Dr. Iruma.

   “Keebo!” The inventor screeched, no doubt worried about the EMP bomb turning him off. Though that was kind of stupid, considering his core programming would be the same regardless of having power to operate, even if he didn’t save whatever data was processed as his last few memories. Eh, then again who knew how robots that advanced worked?

   Taking his cue to exit, Kokichi threw the hammer through one of the nearby windows, and did somersault over to it. He got up on the ledge, kicking away the broken glass and was refamiliarizing himself with the lay out of the roof when a tug on his bag full of bombs suddenly set him off balance.

   Kokichi flipped around, trying to do a quick recovery by panickedly grabbing onto something. He did grab onto something. That something being the shoulders of a person whose hands were firmly grappling his bag.

   As far as Kokichi could tell, the scene from a third person perspective looked like he was trying to do the kabedon but rotated ninety degrees.

   From his own perspective, Saihara was holding his bag of loot while also being the only thing keeping Kokichi from falling onto the broken glass beneath them.

   As if that weren’t bad enough, Kokichi felt his hair brush the side of his face and realized that his mask had half fallen askew in his desperate movement, revealing three quarters of his face.

   “Hey.” Kokichi said. Lamely. Wow. Their faces were really close.

   Saihara wasn’t looking at him. The detective seemed to be trying to figure out how to untangle the straps of the bag of stolen goods from Kokichi’s arms without letting him fall.

   “It’s very clever, of you detective. Trapping me like this.” Kokichi tried to get a reaction.

   “You’re the one who jumped on the window.” Shuichi opened the bag, seemed to take in the fact that it was full of bombs, and closed it again to resume untangling the strap.

“You know, you could just leave the bag.” Kokichi pointed out

   “So could you.” Shuichi observed, astutely.

   “You could let me fall.” Kokichi suggested. “Then you’d have both.”

   “I’m not going to drop you on a pile of broken glass.” Shuichi promised.

   “But I broke the glass.” Kokichi admitted.    “Glass is glass and flesh is flesh. I’m not going to drop you on a pile of glass.” Shuichi reiterated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s nice.” Kokichi replied. “Naive. But super nice.”

   In this scenario, each of them had two options, each leading to one of two outcomes. He could let himself fall off the window and they could sit here and struggle over the bag until they bled out, a fight that Kokichi, not the most physically challenging, would be hard pressed to win. Or Shuichi could let Kokichi escape and Kokichi could let Shuichi win this one. The bag would be too heavy to take with him if he tried to get out the window from this position. He’d have to leave it behind. Kokichi would lose.

   He found himself laughing again. A strange, soft laugh. This time it was exposed to the air, his mask too askew to contain it.

   “You’re really something else, aren’t you Shuichi?”

   On hearing his name, the detective startled, finally looking up at Kokichi’s face.

   He just barely had the chance to catch Kokichi’s trademark grin, before the thief pushed up off of him, doing a backflip out of the window, and leaving his bag behind.

   As Kokichi landed on the roof tile running, he yelled out, “ I’m sure there’s a better word for you out there than sucker!”

   He turned around, sticking his tongue out at the broken window, before sliding his mask back onto his face.

   He may have been escaping, but it occured to Kokichi Ouma that he had lost for the first time in this little game of theirs. The thought made him giddy. It made his feet light on the roof top tile. It made him puff out a thousand tiny laughs behind the plastic shape of his face.

   It made him totally, definitely not bored. --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Don't Instigate Cats (2019) Expatiation” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss: I’m bored of Taiwan already :/

Boss: We should go somewhere else (ﾉ✧w✧)ﾉ*:･ﾟ🗺

* * * Several people are typing... --- [Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hey

Hey

Asshole

From: Me

…

Should I respond to that?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You’re goddamn right you should respond to that when I tell you to you dumb avocado looking motherfucker

From: Me

Whoa

Ok

What’d I do this time?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You sent a useless emo prick to my door and now he won’t leave

From: Me

What

Did Shuichi do something wrong

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yeah

He was born

From: Me

Whoa

Miu take a breath

What happened

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

His boyfriend broke into my lab and tried to fucking kill keebs

From: Me

His boyfriend?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yea

Clown twink ass motherfucker

From: Me

You mean like

The internationally wanted criminal clown he’s tracking down

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You know whats internationally wanted

These tits

From: Me

Lol ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

That jerk off is just a rando asshole

He tried to kill keebo!

From: Me

Oh yikes is he ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Well of course i fucking took care of him because im a bomb ass friend

But that suckhara guy was no help

He tried to convince me to check the fucking security cameras so he could go off and flirt with the guy about to decapitate keebs!

From: Me

I mean he probably had a good reason to want you to check the cameras right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

No he’s just fucking awful and now he won’t leave rantarou make him leave

He broke my window and my hammer and only got back 23 of my EMP bombs

And now the police are here

From: Me

That sounds really stressful Miu

Wait how many bombs did you have before

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

24

From: Me

So he stopped most of your bombs from getting stolen

Also you have bombs?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Get him to leave he won’t leave

He keeps waiting for like interracial pole dancers to come or some fucking thing

From: Me

Do you mean like

Interpol

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

He won’t leave I want him to leave

From: Me

Miu you know I love you like a sister and i totally believe this is as stressful to you as it seems

But I think things may not be so bad?

Not to say what you’re going through right now isn’t totally valid

But things might look better if you got back to bed and caught some z’s

Did you remember to take your meds?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Aw shit

Aw fuck

You’re right

Ugh

Uggghghh

From: Me

Hey it happens to the best of us

If you do think Shuichi should leave in the morning when the cops are gone that’s totally up to you

It’s your lab and you have a right to say who should be in it

Just don’t make a decision like that when you need to sleep you know

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if i ask him to go and then he doesn’t go

From: Me

He doesn’t have a choice, you get to tell him

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if he’s mean to me

Cute people are always mean to me

From: Me

Miu…

Go to bed...

[all-might-blog]

Playing Monopoly

Summary:

Some of the students just decide to play monopoly. Let's just say that it doesn't end well...

Notes:

Helooo! Missed me?

First of all, thanks to all of you who left kudos on my previous works in this series! 10 KUDOS IN A DAY! I couldn't believe it! Thank. You. SO. MUCH!!!!!! Second is that if you have any requests of fanarts that you made/came across with about a scene containing the characters or prompts that would last a chapter (or two, deoending on it! Also counts for the fanarts!) I would love to write a story inspired by it! Just put the link in the comments and I will check it out and see if I can come up with any ideas! (Since I have lots of time, I think that I will be able to do it!) Third is that this fanfic was inspired by a fanart I came across on pinterest. Basically, it's a shot of some students from class A playing monopoly. Um... Deku looses and Bakugou wins and the rest is absolute chaos. I won't say anything else, but I will be posting it on Tumblr along with the fanart (I've also done that with "Haven't we met yet…?" and "Give those two a push, Class 1A!" which you can find in this series!) (my tumblr is The All Might Blog, in case you wish to see the fanarts) I hope you enjoy the read!

Here is the fanart: 

XD I know, right? Just look at Todoroki’s expression and poor Izuku’s (but I changed some things in the fic....)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

All Might stood in front of Class 1A's commom room, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't dare open it yet. Why were his students shouting so much? He slowly twisted the know open and opened the door.

Bakugou was lying on top of what seemed to be a monopoly board with a very grumpy look on his face. Midoriya was being showered with bank notes from the game, looking both pleased and scared. Iida and Urakawa were shouting and showering bank notes down on Midoriya. Kirishima hadthrown his arms up and was shouting "WHY, CRUEL WORLD?!". Denki was laughing on the couch, Present Mic and Eraserhead seated beside him (the latter rolling his eyes and saying that he wanted to take a nap). And Todoroki was inside a carboard box with the word JAIL written on it with what All Might thought to be bars. All Might stood at the entrance for a few moments later before closing the door. "I will come back later..." he muttered, walking back the way he had come.

AN HOUR EARLIER...

"Anyone wanna play Monopoly?" Urakawa asked, showing them the box (it was a game of thrones edition). "Oh, Kachan, do you remember when we used to play together?" Midoriya asked. "And how I used to beat you over and over again? Yeah." Bakugou said, flipping the page of the magazine he was reading. "That doesn't ask my question!" Urakawa said, "Does anyone want to have a round?" "I think I will. I haven't got anything to do." Todoroki said, raising his hand from the couch he was sitting at. "I will, too!" Midoriya said. "Count me in as well," Iida said, adjusting his glasses, "I consider myself a formidable player." "I am bored. I will be an expectator." Denki said. Soon enough, Urakawa had set up the game board on the floor- and there was a turn of events as well. "You guys have to be kidding. A jail." Bakugou said (he had joined in to prove that he was a good player). The "jail" was a large cardboard box big enough to fit a person, with the word JAIL written in marker under a bunch of crudely cut out bars. "Yup!" Urakawa said with a bright smile. She handed out the pieces and the bank notes as they sat around the game board, their pieces set at start. "What are you guys doing?" They all turned their heads to see Present Mic and their homeroom teacher, Eraserhead, enter the room. "Playing monopoly!" Denki said from his spot on the couch (a small sign had been stuck to it saying EXPECTATORS). "I can see that it won't end well. We will see how it goes." Eraserhead sat next to Denki. Present Mic sat next to them. "Let's all throw to see who starts," Iida said. The order was soon determined: First Todoroki, then Kirishima, Iida, Urakawa, Bakugou and Midoriya. Todoroki landed on one of the properties and bought it, paying 100 bank notes for it. And so on it went. I will mention the most important parts, else it would just drag on for some time.

"Ha ha, Idiot! You have to pay me for landing on my property!" Bakugou said when Midoriya was unfortunate enough to land on his property. "Right. How much is it?" Midoriya asked, leafing through his bank notes. "Fve hundred notes." "What? It says here it's fifty-" Iida began to say, but Bakugou cut him off. "It's my property, you dingus." "Bakugou, have you ever read the rules?" Five minutes passed by with Iida and Bakugou arguing over the manual. "Did he do that while he played with you back when you two were little?" Urakawa asked Midoriya. "Yeah..." "No wonder he kept on wining…!"

"You keep on buying all the property," Todoroki said as Iida paid notes to the bank for his fifth property. "It is helpful for wining," Iida said. "Why do you look at him? It's Bakugou with the seven properties!" Urakawa said. Bakugou smirked at them. "Good luck with not landing on my properties," he said.

About ten minutes after that, it was Todoroki's turn to roll the dice. He did and- "YOU LANDED ON JAIL!" Kirishima shouted. "Poor Todoroki," Denki said as the other boy got in the box with a are you kidding me? look on his face. "The stakes are growing," Eraserhead mused. "And it looks like Bakugou or Iida might win..."

"Deku, why aren't you buying any property?" Urakawa asked. "Just wait and see." He said, rolling the dice. The number was six. Midoriya's grin grew even wider when his piece landed on the most expensive property on the board and he bought it. "Midoriya has tricked the other players!" Present Mic cried. "Good grief, Midoriya," Iida said, "If we land there..." Six minutes passed by before that happened. Bakugou pulled at his hair. "NOOO! How the-" he said. "Pay the land's owner." Iida said. Bakugou reluctantly handed over most of the money he had left. What Midoriya did in his next turns was buy all the property around that last one.

It was Todoroki's turn again. He rolled the dice... and landed himself in jail once more. "The game obviously hates me." he said, getting back in the box with a sigh.

Urakawa landed on a box in which she had to pick up a card. She read it, her eyes growing huge. "What is it?" Kirishima asked. "I lost." she said, paying the last of her money to the bank. "Oof." Denki said as she joined them at the couch. Present Mic patted her shoulder. "You tried."

Several more minutes passed by before it became obvious thatbthe one who would win was Mirodiya. Iida had lost all of his money after landing on one of his properties, and so had Kirishima. Only he, Bakugou and Todoroki remained seated at the board. Todoroki rolled the dice. "Well, at least it's not jail again!" He said, moving his piece. However, the hox was one of those in which you have to move back a few boxes. He landed on jail again. "Yep. The game defenetely hates me." he said, crawling back into the box.

"I'm gonna win, Deku!" Bakugou growled as he purchased another property. "Oh really?" Midoriya chuckled. Minutes passed before Bakugou landed on his prooerty, paying what little money he had left.

BACK TO THE PRESENT...

"Hey, All Might!" Midnight said with a wave. "Have you seen Eraserhead?" "He's in the Class 1A commom room. But don't go there yet. It's... scary."

Notes:

My next work might be an origin story about All Might. Still dodn't know. Between that and this, there will be another update! I hope you enjoyed the read!

[esoanem]

III.

“No matter how many lies we tell ourselves, no matter how many stories we convince ourselves we’re part of, we’re all just thieves awaiting a noose”

Major Content Notes:

Sexual Assault: implied off-screen rape. In a second scene, the rape of the same woman in front of a crowd of onlookers is interrupted part way through. In a third scene, the same woman is shown sleeping naked next to a man, implied to be a continuation of the earlier events

Wikipedia Synopsis:

Flint asks Gates to seek additional help from Captain Hornigold to borrow his ship, Royal Lion, in search of the Urca de Lima. Meanwhile, Silver and Billy tackle a morale problem while they work together on discovering who the remaining mutineers are. During a captain's meeting to strike a deal, Eleanor is impressed by Vane's voice of reason and calm demeanor, which leads to them having an intimate encounter. However, once she finds out Max was raped by his crew, she punishes Vane by giving them an ultimatum. Also, Gates is promoted from quartermaster to captaining his own ship.

This episode is a rough one, and the main reason that I’m doing this series of posts at all, the sexual assault plotline (especially the second scene) is uncharacteristic of the show as a whole & protracted, and definitely should be skipped if you are likely to have a particularly bad time with such scenes

The timestamps section below says when each of those scene are, as well as giving a brief synopsis of those scenes so that you can skip those particular scenes without having to skip the whole episode reading the summary (although that is also a totally fine option)

Timestamps:

As ever, all timestamps are from the “Complete Collection” DVDs which includes a Starz logo at the start, as well as a recap. Depending on your source, timestamps may vary a little, which is why I’ve included the timestamp for the opening titles. Timestamps are only given for the start and end of scenes featuring any particularly warning-worthy content

00:57: opening credits

36:41-39:16: Max is seen chained to a wall, naked. It is implied she has been raped by Vane’s crew. When he finds out Eleanor chose profit over Max, he tells Jack to put her on a boat

43:41-49:58: Eleanor has sex with Vane as Jack takes Max away. The crew surround her and rape her. In response, Eleanor says she’s cutting Vane’s crew off entirely, unless they join Flint, which most do, leaving Vane, Anne, Jack, and a small number of other pirates still loyal to him. Max says she blames Eleanor for this more than Vane and goes to Vane’s remaining crew saying she’s theirs until her debt is paid

51:42-53:54: this scene intercuts between a framing scene and several other characters. One of the characters cut to is Max (52:58-53:08), who is naked in bed next to a sleeping man, it seems this is a continuation of the earlier events

Summary:

Flint wakes up and wonders into the kitchen. Mrs Barlow spots that he’s dripping blood and changes his bandages, saying he should have told her last night. As she tells him that Pastor Lambrick is keeping an eye on her, Flint tells her he found the ship with the schedule, and calls her by her first name, Miranda

Silver is writing out the schedule, supervised by Billy & Eleanor. Mr Scott calls Eleanor outside to tell her Max has gone, and the boat she had waiting for her has left. She says that Max chose it, not her, and returns to Silver, cross, telling him that he’d better be worth it

Miranda seems preoccupied and Flint gives her a book from Parish’s cabin, saying he hoped she’d like it. She says she’d started to think it was a lost cause and, though she isn’t disappointed, she’d hoped to have him all to herself. At that moment Gates pulls up outside with Richard Guthrie lying, still unconscious, in the back of the cart under the sheet, and Flint says he needs a favour

The Ranger’s crew confront Jack about losing the 5000 pesos. He says he’s disappointed too, but they’re welcome to elect a new quartermaster if they don’t think he’s valuable to the crew any more. They don’t comment on this, but tell him to make it right, and quickly. Anne & Vane are watching

Silver finishes transcribing the schedule, but Flint spots that it still isn’t complete. There should be a stop in Florida to take on water, where the Urca will be most vulnerable to attack, but Silver’s schedule stops miles short of the coast. Silver points out that they’d probably kill him if he did give them it all, and that they will have to take him with them, he’ll forgo payment for the schedule in exchange for a share of the prize. Flint points out he stood kill him once they have the gold, but Silver says that’s a few weeks away and, by then, they might be friends

Billy shakes his head, but Flint accepts this, after confirming with Eleanor. He says they’ll need extra powder & shot, as well as at least a dozen new 12lb guns, as well as a second ship as consort, which Eleanor agrees to

Gates takes Billy outside, where Billy points out how dangerous Silver could be onboard, as he knows Singleton wasn’t a thief and, just one day from a mutiny, the resentment won’t have just disappeared no matter how much gold they’re promised. Silver might say something to the wrong person, and set things off. 

Billy takes Silver to Randall, and tells him that, after losing a wager, Silver has to spend all day helping Randall peel potatoes, and asks Randall to keep an eye on him, and yell if he wanders off. As Billy leaves, Randall screams, before saying that that’s what he’ll do if Silver leaves

Mr Scott asks Eleanor how she could promise Flint the guns, when he’s not seen even a pair of 12lbers on the island for months. She says Captain Bryson (of the Andromache) will be back in two days, and he’s always used 12lbers. Scott points out that they’re Bryson’s guns, and he won’t want to part with them, and that the Andromache is likely the last of her father’s ships that will arrive, as the others will all have heard of her father’s arrest (whilst the Andromache was already en route when it happened), and so they’ll have an empty warehouse in less than four weeks. Eleanor says her father will have to help them

Silver asks Randall why he doesn’t like him, and it seems that Randall feels like he’s being made useless by them getting a new cook. Silver then says that he’s still trying to understand how things work, that Singleton seemed to make a lot of sense, but now he’s dead, and Flint remains, those grievances seem to have been forgotten, and asks if Randall knows anyone who still holds a grudge against Flint. Randall stops peeling, and says he isn’t meant to talk about that

Back at the cottage, Richard Guthrie is woken up by Eleanor. He sees that he is being guarded, on Flint’s orders, to make sure he doesn’t interfere. She asks for his help, saying they need a new partner with legitimacy, that they can trust, and who won’t cross them, but he just turns away silently

“who the fuck are you kidding? 

It’s help me, or flee to Boston. Beg your father, and brothers for sanctuary. 

Oh they might save you from the gallows, but they won’t spare you their scorn. You’ll be right back in the parlour room, listening through a crack in the door to where the real business is being done, back to where you started, before you brought mother and myself here, and we made you into the man that you always insisted to them that you were. 

Think on that, whilst you sit there and pretend that helping me isn’t the only choice you have.”

Against Gates’ advice, Billy is asking around the crew about anyone still angry at the captain. We meet Joji (below right), a Japanese pirate whose katana is being sharpened at that moment, and who, after being given back his sword inspects the blade, before silently returning it to the pirate with the whetstone

We see the two pirates who maintained Singleton’s innocence meet up, and note that Billy’s been asking round. The older one, Mr Morley (below left), says Flint doesn’t know, and won’t find out, which the younger one, Mr Turk (below right), takes as an indication that he’s giving up. Silver sits down the Mr Turk to play dice as he returns to his seat, saying he’s been speaking to Randall about suspicions about the captain, and that he thinks they might have that in common

Gates walks from the beach to the fort, and is introduced by a man named Philip. We meet Captain Benjamin Hornigold (below left) of the Royal Lion, an older pirate, Jacobite, and steward of the fort, smoking on a chair. Gates previously served under Hornigold, and the two banter, as Gates threatens to throw him and his chair off the fort into the sea if he has to climb those stairs again

“Philip, do you know the provenance of the chair in which I currently sit?

This chair once sat in the Plymouth office of one Sir Francis Drake. I took this chair from a prize off the coast of Boston. I lost six men in that fight. 

Ever since then, this chair has resided here, atop my fort from which I survey the harbour that I protect for the good of an ungrateful island. 

Philip, if Mr Gates should ever lay a hand on my chair, you have my permission to shoot him where he stands”

Gates says Flint wants Hornigold’s ship and crew, but not with Hornigold as consort. Instead he wants Gates to command it, as they understand each other well, and the crew trusts him.

“You assume too much, I’m not even certain my men trust me at this stage

The last I heard, James fled to France. They call him the pretender now. 

I promised my men that if they stayed with me that they’d be soldiers again that they’d be part of a rebel navy, fighting a war to restore a rightful king. 

But now - who knows what they’ll do. 

They’re coming to terms with a very uncomfortable truth that no matter how many lies we tell ourselves, no matter how many stories we convince ourselves we’re part of, we’re all just thieves awaiting a noose”

Hornigold begrudgingly agrees, saying “that after fifteen years at sea, you’re the only man I’ve ever met that’s got dumber with age”

Guthrie wakes up and Miranda brings him some food and a book. When he asks who she is to Flint, she ignores him, saying the book is Marcus Aurelius, that he might find it helpful, and offers to discuss it once he’s finished it

Billy spots Silver leaning on a post, away from Randall. Silver points out Mr Turk, Randall, and Morley, saying he’s identified the remaining crew who still harbour resentment to the captain, in the hopes that earning Billy’s trust will keep him alive. We find out that Turk has been spreading rumours about Flint for years, that Randall isn’t surprising either, but that he had no idea about Morley

“Turk thinks Flint is undead. Walks the earth without a soul. He believes that there’s a witch who lives deep inside the island who controls his every move”

As Gates is looking over a chart in a tavern, Jack Rackham comes over, saying he’s come to offer his congratulations on Gates’ first command. Gates tells him to walk away, saying “I don’t know what you’re after Jack, but you sound like one desperate mother-fucker to me”, deducing that the Ranger’s crew have given Jack an ultimatum, and advising him to get on a boat away. 

“It won’t take much for you to lose that new crew of yours. You may have the fooled now, but at sea? 

Perhaps you’ll oversleep the bells and need to be roused. 

Perhaps you’ll be had at the glass, and need help with where to point it. 

Perhaps you’ll slip and fall and that knee of yours will finally give out. 

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… 

No-one will say anything of course, they respect you too much for that but the moment the Urca looms close and the first shot is fired in anger you know exactly what every last man in that crew will be thinking: Christ almighty, I wish we had a cap’n thirty years younger”

Gates seems taken aback and goes to Flint, interrupting him going over the accounts with Dufresne. He says they need a different captain - Charles Vane. Flint laughs at this, an gets angry when he realises Gates isn’t joking, saying that on top of the fact he certainly won’t even consider it, asks why Gates thinks Vane would even consider it

Jack goes to Vane to persuade him to follow the plan and gets told to fuck off. Vane says Jack is just digging a deeper hole for himself, but jack persuades him by pointing out that Eleanor would appreciate Vane supporting her plans

Jack, Vane, Eleanor, Flint, & Gates all meet to discuss terms. After some diplomatic niceties from Jack, Flint interrupts saying he wants an apology from the “cowardly fuck of a captain” who killed his man, and Gates takes him outside

“That was my fault.

Entirely my fault.

I should have been clearer when I prepared you for this meeting. When I said we would need to keep our tempers in check if we were going to make this meeting happen, I should have specified we’d need to do so for the duration of the meeting as well. 

Not to worry, simple setback, now we have clarity and a unity of vision, I feel good”

Gates tries to keep the peace, but has to take Flint back outside to yell at him. Jack comments that “at this rate, the Urca will get to Cadiz and back again before we can resolve anything” and goes for a piss, leaving Eleanor & Vane alone, and he jokes

“Be honest, are you as surprised as I am that I’m the only one here behaving myself?”

They agree terms, but Jack says that as Eleanor has shown Flint favour in the past he wants her father as a more impartial guarantor of terms, but Vane overrules him, saying Eleanor’s word is good enough, and their hands linger together as they shake on it

Jack protests that he could have got better terms as they leave, and he puts on his bizarre (but historical!) sunglasses. We find out Vane has captured Max, as she left the brothel, and is being kept, naked and chained to a wall in a shack. It is implied Vane’s crew have been raping her. Vane talks to her, tries to justify his actions, and asks why she left the brothel even though she was being guarded and kept safe

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, our mutual… ‘friend’… she put guards at your door, tried to protect you, yet you left anyway, why?”

“You really have to ask? How did you feel when she threw you aside?”

Realising Eleanor chose profit over her, Vane tells Jack to put her on a boat after dark, and quietly

Richard Guthrie wakes up, sees Miranda setting out a tea set on her porch, and his guard asleep and starts poking around the cottage. Pastor Lambrick (below) shows up and Miranda invites him to join her for tea, saying he comes every Wednesday. He offers her his Easter sermon asking for her thoughts, it describes love through suffering as the truest form of love and, when he protests that this is God’s gospel truth, she quotes the song of songs as he looks bashful. She ends by saying “true love shouldn’t require suffering, and you don’t have to take my word for it”

Guthrie finds a portrait propped against a wall, one half covered. It is of a couple, and at the bottom is written “Mr & Mrs Thomas Hamilton”, the woman, who had been covered, is Miranda

Pastor Lambrick says he had an ulterior motive visiting, at which Miranda smiles coyly. He says that he’s heard rumours the English are coming and there will be judgement in this world for people on the island, but that his flock’s righteousness will be beyond doubt. Miranda says that it’s not quite that simple for her. He asks if “he” is keeping her there, before she bids him good day

Eleanor visits Vane, straddles him, and they have sex. Jack is leading Max away when he is confronted by the crew who stop him. Jack fetches Vane, and we hear Max scream, causing Eleanor to run out. Max is surrounded by Vane’s crew, being raped as a crowd gathers round. Eleanor grabs a stick and shoves the man off her

“Listen to me very carefully, you are all of you, this whole crew, as of right now, finished!

You will not sell anything, you will not buy anything, you will not eat anything, unless you decide right now to elect yourselves a new captain” 

At this point Eleanor switches from rage, to a voice of authority and self-interest, and Flint & Gates appear 

“Unless you decide to join the crew of Captain Flint. You will join his crew, and you will grant him disposal of his ship, so what will it be? Beggars under an old captain, or rich men under a new one?”

One by one, most of Vane’s crew move towards Flint, until Vane is left with Jack, Anne, and a few loyalists. Eleanor says she’s “so sorry he did this to you”, but Max says that Eleanor did this to her, not Vane and, rather than letting Eleanor take care of her, she goes to Vane’s remaining crew saying  “my actions cost you your pearls. Until the debt is paid, I am yours”. Anne appears concerned, and Eleanor storms off

On the Walrus, Billy approaches Morley who asks if Billy is there to threaten him. He says he has a right to think what he thinks: that Singleton wasn’t a thief. Billy repeats the lie that he saw the stolen page and Morley says that he may be wrong about Singleton, but he isn’t about Flint, and that to him they’re all disposable. When Billy says he doesn’t believe that, Morley says that’s because he doesn’t know about Mrs Barlow

Guthrie is reading the book as Miranda walks in, and he says it is a remarkable book. She flicks to a chosen passage and, as she reads particularly appropriate lines, we cut to different characters

“How should you be? 

You should be like a rocky promontory against which the restless surf continually pounds. 

It stands fast while the churning sea is lulled to sleep at its feet. 

I hear you say ‘how unlucky that this should happen to me’ but not at all, perhaps say instead ‘how lucky I am that I am not broken by what has happened, and am not afraid of what is about to happen’, for the same blow might have struck anyone, but not many who would have absorbed it without capitulation and complaint”

We see Eleanor & Mr Scott as she says “how unlucky that this should happen to me”, to Max, naked in bed next to a sleeping pirate as she says “how lucky I am am that I am not broken by what has happened”, to Billy & Morley talking as she says “and am not afraid of what is about to happen”, and to Silver watching them as she says “the same blow might have struck anyone” before cutting back to her

Flint opens the door, she leaves with him, going into another room, and he closes the door, leaving Guthrie alone in bed