#this is my second round of revisions on this route

[inkykeiji]

looking at this genuinely makes me want to cry lmao it is such a tangled mess and branching dialogue is so much harder than i ever thought it would be BUT i’m really excited to have u guys test it out and get ur feedback and make adjustments and keep learning!!!

this is also technically only one route (with two variations on the ending; the way you behave with him will determine which ending you ultimately get) but the full chat will have at least two routes c: so you can replay it several times and see all of the things he has to say depending on ur own behaviour + responses (*/ω＼*)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How lock-in hurts design

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

If you've ever read about design, you've probably encountered the idea of "paving the desire path." A "desire path" is an erosion path created by people departing from the official walkway and taking their own route. The story goes that smart campus planners don't fight the desire paths laid down by students; they pave them, formalizing the route that their constituents have voted for with their feet.

Desire paths aren't always great (Wikipedia notes that "desire paths sometimes cut through sensitive habitats and exclusion zones, threatening wildlife and park security"), but in the context of design, a desire path is a way that users communicate with designers, creating a feedback loop between those two groups. The designers make a product, the users use it in ways that surprise the designer, and the designer integrates all that into a new revision of the product.

This method is widely heralded as a means of "co-innovating" between users and companies. Designers who practice the method are lauded for their humility, their willingness to learn from their users. Tech history is strewn with examples of successful paved desire-paths.

Take John Deere. While today the company is notorious for its war on its customers (via its opposition to right to repair), Deere was once a leader in co-innovation, dispatching roving field engineers to visit farms and learn how farmers had modified their tractors. The best of these modifications would then be worked into the next round of tractor designs, in a virtuous cycle:

https://securityledger.com/2019/03/opinion-my-grandfathers-john-deere-would-support-our-right-to-repair/

But this pattern is even more pronounced in the digital world, because it's much easier to update a digital service than it is to update all the tractors in the field, especially if that service is cloud-based, meaning you can modify the back-end everyone is instantly updated. The most celebrated example of this co-creation is Twitter, whose users created a host of its core features.

Retweets, for example, were a user creation. Users who saw something they liked on the service would type "RT" and paste the text and the link into a new tweet composition window. Same for quote-tweets: users copied the URL for a tweet and pasted it in below their own commentary. Twitter designers observed this user innovation and formalized it, turning it into part of Twitter's core feature-set.

Companies are obsessed with discovering digital desire paths. They pay fortunes for analytics software to produce maps of how their users interact with their services, run focus groups, even embed sneaky screen-recording software into their web-pages:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-dark-side-of-replay-sessions-that-record-your-every-move-online/

This relentless surveillance of users is pursued in the name of making things better for them: let us spy on you and we'll figure out where your pain-points and friction are coming from, and remove those. We all win!

But this impulse is a world apart from the humility and respect implied by co-innovation. The constant, nonconsensual observation of users has more to do with controlling users than learning from them.

That is, after all, the ethos of modern technology: the more control a company can exert over its users ,the more value it can transfer from those users to its shareholders. That's the key to enshittification, the ubiquitous platform decay that has degraded virtually all the technology we use, making it worse every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

When you are seeking to control users, the desire paths they create are all too frequently a means to wrestling control back from you. Take advertising: every time a service makes its ads more obnoxious and invasive, it creates an incentive for its users to search for "how do I install an ad-blocker":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

More than half of all web-users have installed ad-blockers. It's the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But zero app users have installed ad-blockers, because reverse-engineering an app requires that you bypass its encryption, triggering liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. This law provides for a $500,000 fine and a 5-year prison sentence for "circumvention" of access controls:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Beyond that, modifying an app creates liability under copyright, trademark, patent, trade secrets, noncompete, nondisclosure and so on. It's what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

This is why services are so horny to drive you to install their app rather using their websites: they are trying to get you to do something that, given your druthers, you would prefer not to do. They want to force you to exit through the gift shop, you want to carve a desire path straight to the parking lot. Apps let them mobilize the law to literally criminalize those desire paths.

An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to block ads in it (or do anything else that wrestles value back from a company). Apps are web-pages where everything not forbidden is mandatory.

Seen in this light, an app is a way to wage war on desire paths, to abandon the cooperative model for co-innovation in favor of the adversarial model of user control and extraction.

Corporate apologists like to claim that the proliferation of apps proves that users like them. Neoliberal economists love the idea that business as usual represents a "revealed preference." This is an intellectually unserious tautology: "you do this, so you must like it":

https://boingboing.net/2024/01/22/hp-ceo-says-customers-are-a-bad-investment-unless-they-can-be-made-to-buy-companys-drm-ink-cartridges.html

Calling an action where no alternatives are permissible a "preference" or a "choice" is a cheap trick – especially when considered against the "preferences" that reveal themselves when a real choice is possible. Take commercial surveillance: when Apple gave Ios users a choice about being spied on – a one-click opt of of app-based surveillance – 96% of users choice no spying:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/05/96-of-us-users-opt-out-of-app-tracking-in-ios-14-5-analytics-find/

But then Apple started spying on those very same users that had opted out of spying by Facebook and other Apple competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Neoclassical economists aren't just obsessed with revealed preferences – they also love to bandy about the idea of "moral hazard": economic arrangements that tempt people to be dishonest. This is typically applied to the public ("consumers" in the contemptuous parlance of econospeak). But apps are pure moral hazard – for corporations. The ability to prohibit desire paths – and literally imprison rivals who help your users thwart those prohibitions – is too tempting for companies to resist.

The fact that the majority of web users block ads reveals a strong preference for not being spied on ("users just want relevant ads" is such an obvious lie that doesn't merit any serious discussion):

https://www.iccl.ie/news/82-of-the-irish-public-wants-big-techs-toxic-algorithms-switched-off/

Giant companies attained their scale by learning from their users, not by thwarting them. The person using technology always knows something about what they need to do and how they want to do it that the designers can never anticipate. This is especially true of people who are unlike those designers – people who live on the other side of the world, or the other side of the economic divide, or whose bodies don't work the way that the designers' bodies do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Apps – and other technologies that are locked down so their users can be locked in – are the height of technological arrogance. They embody a belief that users are to be told, not heard. If a user wants to do something that the designer didn't anticipate, that's the user's fault:

https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/

Corporate enthusiasm for prohibiting you from reconfiguring the tools you use to suit your needs is a declaration of the end of history. "Sure," John Deere execs say, "we once learned from farmers by observing how they modified their tractors. But today's farmers are so much stupider and we are so much smarter that we have nothing to learn from them anymore."

Spying on your users to control them is a poor substitute asking your users their permission to learn from them. Without technological self-determination, preferences can't be revealed. Without the right to seize the means of computation, the desire paths never emerge, leaving designers in the dark about what users really want.

Our policymakers swear loyalty to "innovation" but when corporations ask for the right to decide who can innovate and how, they fall all over themselves to create laws that let companies punish users for the crime of contempt of business-model.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

Image: Belem (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Desire_path_%2819811581366%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[ikeromantic]

Hello. I really enjoyed your fanfic with the ikeprinces adopting kids and your cheva route rewrites. You write the characters so well I feel like I was reading actual cybird-released stories. Thanks for sharing your amazing work. I saw that your asks is open so I thought I’d give it a try. :) We know from previous stories that Clavis sends assassins after Chev and on Chev’s birthday, Clavis himself visits. I don’t know if you’ve read Clavis’s romantic route yet but I’ve been wondering since then… what if Clavis actually succeeds? How would Clavis feel about that? What would be a world without Chevalier be like? Thanks in advance and keep up the great work!

This was a little melancholy to write. Approx. 1300 words of a world without Chev.

Clavis sat in the faction office, staring at the stacks of folders on the desk. Reports from the border, intelligence from spies, letters from merchants, and contracts made up the bulk, along with petitions and revisions to law. Sariel would no doubt bring another round by this afternoon.

The work of a prince was never-ending. All the more so when - 

“There you are.” Nokto stepped into the room, his usual insouciant smile on his face though there was a wariness in his posture.

“Yes, here I am and there you are. The sky is blue and why are we stating the obvious today?” His smile was sharper, thinner than it had been. Everything about him felt that way, though he tried not to show it. 

Nokto scowled. “I was looking for you. One of my lovely ladies had some information on shipments into Obsidian.”

Clavis held onto his smile, though he felt like cursing. “Set it in the pile there. That one is for reports on Obsidian.” He would have to read it and try his best to correlate it with all the other odds and ends he had. Try to put together an idea of what their belligerent neighbor was up to now. 

“Sure.” Nokto’s gaze narrowed. “I also have a question.”

“And I have an answer. No.” Clavis did not need to be a mind reader to know what Nokto’s question was. Licht had disappeared in the unrest following . . . following the death of Chevalier. Privately, Clavis was certain he was dead. It was no secret how he threw himself into danger with no worry for his own life. 

Nokto’s frown deepened. “You didn’t even let me tell you what I want to know.”

“Alright. But if you ask and it’s the same thing you always ask, I am going to pick a random vial from my belt and throw it at you.”

His brother paled, but he nodded. “Fine. I wanted to know if you heard anything about . . . Emma.”

It was Clavis’ turn to blanch. “No,” he said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile back onto his lips. “Now if that was all?”

“Of course. I’ll let you get back to it.” Nokto left, his footsteps echoing. 

Emma. Another likely casualty. Clavis stood and left the room, his head pounding. He didn’t have Chev’s love of reading, nor his ability to remember everything he read. What had come easy to the second born prince came hard to his younger brother. 

Cyran fell into step behind him, a necessary shadow. Even the palace was not completely safe these days. 

Clavis wandered the palace with no real destination in mind. His feet lead him slowly toward the royal crypt. He didn’t want to go there, but it was like a tidal pull. Gentle but inexorable. 

There were flowers on Jin’s grave but the tomb beside his was barren. No wonder, as it belonged to the first prince’s murder, Luke. An unexpected betrayal, that. Though, perhaps . . . Clavis’ eyes wandered to the next tomb. Chevalier. He might have suspected their youngest brother. 

Clavis stared hard at the tomb, the letters of his brother’s name etched deeply into the marble. An angel sat atop the stone, weeping. Had anyone else cried for Chevalier? The Brutal Beast . . . but who was more brutal, truly?

“I didn’t think I would find you here.” Leon raised an eyebrow. 

“I was just taking a break. A walk.” Clavis could not help the slight bitterness in his voice. 

Leon nodded in understanding. He held a fresh bouquet of white roses. He set them on Chev’s tomb. “I miss him, you know? Even though we didn’t always agree on things. He was my brother.”

“Mine too.” Guilt squeezed at his heart. Clavis ignored it. 

“I was thinking we might organize another search. For Licht. And Emma.” He phrased it less as a question than a statement.

Clavis shrugged. “We could, if there is new information on where to look. The rebels might have either or both of them. Or Obsidian.”

“We would have heard something from Gilbert if that was the case.”

“Likely.” He sighed. His rebel informants were dead or on the run. If the prince or Belle were captives in Rhodolite, he had no way to know. It was funny how an appetite for change became a hunger for violence when the opportunity arose, only to turn to cowardice at the first taste of consequence. 

Leon studied him as if trying to parse the bland smile Clavis wore. He took a long, slow breath, exhaling before he said, “It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

Clavis wanted to laugh. For the hundredth time he considered confessing. 

“You couldn’t have known the assassins would strike when they did. Or that Chevalier would fall to them.” Leon gave him a sad half-smile. “None of us did. I know I thought Chev would always be here. I couldn’t imagine -”

“Fun as this conversation is, I have to get back to work. Toodaloo.” Clavis turned on his heel and waved. He felt as if his chest was being squeezed in a tight fist. The pressure was so great that he could not breathe. Had Leon stopped him right then, he would have blabbed the whole thing.

The assassins were his. Oh, not directly of course. But he’d ensured the funding and encouraged the discontent. Made certain of the opportunity. And why not? The Beast sacrificed lives to see his goals through. His life could be ended for the same. Yet when it happened . . . nothing came together as planned.

The discontent nobles attacked the palace, but the commoners attacked the nobles. Angry at low wages and bad treatment, they looted and stole what they could. Luke took advantage of the chaos to get revenge on Jin. And then welcomed his Obsidian friends across the border.

It was only luck that the nobles besieging the palace were more frightened of becoming Obsidianite slaves than they were angry at the royal family. Leon managed to quell their protest and lead them into battle at the border. Victory came at a steep price though. 

Decimated and weary, the nobles and the princes fell into an uneasy peace. The commoners were not so easily subdued. They continued to raid and burn, arriving out of nowhere and fading once the violence was done. Licht went to fight them, telling no one of his plans. One day he was in the palace, and the next, gone. Not a whisper from him since.

Emma . . . Emma tried to broker peace with rebels. They burned her bookstore to the ground in response. No body was found but Clavis was sure he’d gotten her killed too. He didn’t need Leon to tell him it was all ok. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t be. But he could continue on anyway, because that was his punishment now.

To live in a world he had created. Clavis still felt a burning hatred for Chevalier. A heavy dissatisfaction that even in death, the Brutal Beast outsmarted him once again. And beneath that, in a part of himself that he would never admit to, he missed him. The challenge in his icy gaze, the razor-sharp mind, the expressions he reserved only for those he allowed close. 

Somehow, Clavis’ wandering steps took him to the library instead of the office. He stopped in the doorway. “I don’t want to be here,” he said, so softly that he thought Cyran hadn’t heard.

“Let’s go, then. Don’t you have a meeting with Prince Silvio this afternoon? We can prep for that.”

“Yes. Of course. I must be ready to surprise the jangler, ‘eh?” Clavis laughed, a sound as false as his smile. Rhodolite was a darker place to live, these days. Like Clavis himself, it wore a smile on the outside. Garlanded in roses and festivals, but beneath that face, there was a hollowness. Would it heal in time? Would he? 

Clavis swallowed it all down, his smile growing wider. “I have some ideas for Silvio. Let’s drop by my room.”

[dandelion-wings]

Revisions on the Brightcrown Canyon fic are going well! I split draft 2 into two parts, because there's ongoing conversations across both the Jean-and-Kaeya scenes and the Diluc-and-Barbara scenes, about Barbara for the first and Jean for the second, and I wanted to make sure those conversations flowed scene-to-scene without the other scenes in the way. And then my first round of revisions was largely about logistics, internal consistency, and applying research that I only convinced myself to do near the very end of the first draft. XD;; I am going to go back after a few days, highlight the conversations specifically, and go over them a second time before I fold everything back together for draft 3 and work on overall pacing and flow, because I split them out in the first place because I was really convinced they needed to be torn up and rearranged more, and maybe I was wrong! maybe I was in the post-first-draft doldrums, where the whole story feels awful, and the break gave me perspective! But I want to be sure.

The other thing that I think did help in the break, though, was going back and re-reading a lot of my own fic. Because I write most of my fic because I want to read it, and even though I could see a lot of flaws as I re-read, I still enjoyed them. So it's okay if this one doesn't come out perfect! I don't have to chase perfection, I just have to chase enjoyment. And revision, of course, requires re-reading, and even in its current not-quite-done-yet state I did enjoy re-reading it already. So I am going to polish it up more, because I do want to, but I once again am reminded that I don't have to produce the most Perfect Possible Version of a story, just a version that I care about. :>

Anyway, as compensation for all that literary navel-gazing, a couple of lines I had to cut as I rearranged a few things in the first scene, but did rather like:

"But if they are coming from beneath Old Mondstadt," Kaeya says, "all we have to do is find their route up onto the cliffs and get our Spark Knight to block that off." "I'm not sure I want to start encouraging Klee to blow up the landscape," Jean tells him. "Why not? She does it anyway, and it would be a good example of when it's useful and in line with her duties as a knight. As opposed to all the times it's not."

[f1]

F1 needs to adapt rules before 2026 to close gap between teams Hamilton | 2023 Miami Grand Prix

Lewis Hamilton says he understands why some fans are disappointed by the state of competition in Formula 1 this year and said the series may have to rethink its rules earlier than planned. F1 is in its second season since revised technical regulations were introduced with the goal of improving the quality of racing and bringing the field closer together. However Red Bull are routing the competition at the moment, winning every race so far this year and 14 of the last 15 grands prix. Asked whether he was concerned Red Bull’s dominance would prove a turn-off for the American market Formula 1 is eager to court with its first of three US rounds this weekend, Hamilton said: “It’s not my job to convince people to watch a sport. “I mean, I’m not watching it. It’s not boring for me. I’m challenged every single day trying to get back to the front. So it’s definitely not boring from my perspective. “But, as a racing fan watching, I can understand because it’s not as much competition as they’re perhaps used to with the NFL and the NBA at the moment. That’s not my doing.” F1 “needs to do better, I think, as a sport” said Hamilton. “They have already tried to bring the teams closer but it never seems to work. So all I can say is that we’re working as hard as we can to close up and get back to give them some more excitement.” Hamilton believes F1 did the right thing by overhauling its car design last year, but believes further changes are needed before its next planned overhaul of the rule book in 2026. “I think it’s good that we’re trying new things. I think it’s important that we continue to move forward and evolve. The technology has evolved. “It is just unfortunate we still see the same sort of gaps between teams. I don’t know what the solution is for the future, but I think we’re going to have to continue to adapt these regulations moving forwards otherwise it could be the same as it is now for years, until 2026. If we don’t do a better job, which we’re working on doing.” However Hamilton said he is enjoying the current generation of cars now that Mercedes has addressed the ‘porpoising’ problem they suffered with throughout last season. “I like the cars without the bouncing. They’re a little bit heavy, I wouldn’t say making the cars heavy is a good idea. That’s about it.” Bringing the F1 news from the source RaceFans strives to bring its readers news directly from the key players in Formula 1. We are able to do this thanks in part to the generous backing of our RaceFans Supporters. By contributing £1 per month or £12 per year (or the equivalent in other currencies) you can help cover the costs involved in producing original journalism: Travelling, writing, creating, hosting, contacting and developing. We have been proudly supported by our readers for over 10 years. If you enjoy our independent coverage, please consider becoming a RaceFans Supporter today. As a bonus, all our Supporters can also browse the site ad-free. Sign up or find out more via the links below: Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2023 Miami Grand Prix Browse all 2023 Miami Grand Prix articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Interview with MN Bennet, indie author with the upcoming YA paranormal novel, Crescentville Haunting!

Tell us about your book. What's it about, and what kind of stories do you like to write?

Crescentville Haunting follows sixteen-year-old Logan who’s trying to survive high school, focus on his future, and avoid all distractions, including his flirty vampire ex-boyfriend. Thanks to a wicked Crone with an insatiable appetite, Logan’s plans go up in literal flames when she strikes. The bizarre attack leads to Logan being taken to a research facility that’ll help him reclaim his life and future, so long as he rejects all things paranormal and embraces human ideology. Logan will have to navigate his lingering feelings for Henry while unraveling what happened to him by the Crone.

Generally, I write paranormal and fantasy stories. A running trend (I only recently came to realize) in most of my books is a message of self-discovery and independence. I have this tendency of creating main characters who need to break away from their families and find out who they are and what makes them happy, which is a big message in Crescentville Haunting. This particular story is a YA. I love writing young adult and hope to work on some more YA fantasy in the future, but lately my tastes have shifted to adult. I have two other books planned for 2023 that are both adult fantasies with strong romantic plots. So if you’re interested in second-chance romances or enemies to lovers pairings in magical worlds, these might appeal to you.

How did you decide to go with indie publishing?

With lots of doubts. *insert awkward laughter* I spent years looking into self-publication as a backup plan (always reading up on the basics). It wasn’t until I stopped looking at it as a backup plan and as an actual plan that I decided it was time to invest real effort researching. I’ve always enjoyed researching things about the industry from traditional publication, indie and small presses, all the way to self-pubbing. Self-publication is A LOT of work like any other pathway. It involves most of the heavy lifting from the author, whether that’s formatting the book, finding ways to market, creating a budget (which various writer to writer), all the way to believing whole heartedly in your book. I realized going this indie route was the best decision for me.

What do you think are the advantages of becoming an indie author?

Creative freedom and flexibility are great advantages. They can also be challenges. Flexibility in when and how much you produce is wonderful, but it’s really important to make schedules. As an indie author, you have to prepare for all the steps. Drafting, revising, getting your book to an editor, edits, finding a cover artist, formatting, setting up your book for release, marketing, and other things.

I believe most stories out there are marketable. Some genres more so than others. It’s all about finding your audience, which can take time. Creative freedom allows you to write and market what you want, but it’s still important to research and understand what works in your genre for your audience. You also have to be your biggest hype person (something I’m still working on). For me, the greatest advantage has been finding a love for writing again. I do my best to avoid burnout from stretching my bandwidth too much, but since I decided to follow this path I’ve found so much joy which I hope resonates with readers.

What's it like working with an editor as an indie publisher? How do you go about finding a cover artist?

My editor is fantastic. I really love their approach and dedication. I was super nervous about getting my first round of edits, but it wasn’t nearly as daunting as I expected. I’m super fortunate to have found someone whose style meshes with mine. I think that’s the most important part for any writer: traditional or indie. You need an editor who can elevate your story, making it the best possible version, but also someone who you can connect with based on the way feedback is delivered.

Cover art is hard. I recommend reading the front matter of books that have covers you’ve loved and/or fit in your genre. Most of the time, they’ll list their artist or designer there. I definitely spent a lot of time looking for cover artists this way. Oddly enough, I found my artist through Twitter—yes, social media is another great tool for finding wonderful professionals. A thread on indie cover art was going around, asking for recommendations and pricing, and fellow writers were adding and sharing their experiences. I saw a cover I couldn’t look away from, went to the company, LOVED their portfolio, and was super grateful to have found Miblart. They’re a fantastic group with a wide range of cover design styles and pricing (two very important factors for anyone going into indie publishing).

Was there anything about the process that surprised you? What would you advise people going into becoming an indie author to expect?

Time consuming. I expected it to take a lot of time, research, dedication, and patience. But dang—there is always something new to learn or prepare for. My biggest recommendation for those going into indie is to allow yourself time to wrap your mind around all the different components. There will always be things you can’t fully grasp until you reach that particular milestone—or so I tell myself—but give yourself time to pivot when something doesn’t work or you’re thrown a new curveball.

I planned out a year in advance (some might think that’s too far out) but I still feel like I’m a little behind at times. That probably has more to do with my personality than the actual workload for indie publishing. I’m still working on compartmentalizing (something I think all writers whether traditional or indie have to learn). I’ve been getting the technical stuff ready for Crescentville Haunting’s release, but I need to keep attention on a secret WIP for something I’m hoping to release next year. There are always lots of moving parts in publishing work, so I think it helps to set a plan or schedule or checklist to keep track of what to work on.

Where can people follow your work and pick up your book?

My website has my recent and upcoming projects. You can also subscribe to my monthly newsletter where I offer updates. Author website: https://www.mnbennet.com/

Currently, my book will only be available on Amazon, which you can find in the link below. I hope to increase availability elsewhere in time, but for now this is where my bandwidth is and it’s the best place for most indie authors to find their readers.

Amazon Author Page

Goodreads Page

Linktree

Also, in my linktree is a Google Form where I’m gathering ARC readers. I’ll be distributing ARCs late January, so if YA Paranormal Fantasy is something you enjoy, please consider joining the team.

[theworldbrewery]

I saw your multiclass your Bloodhunter for the original flavor of it. I was wondering if youd ever do one again for the 2022 update Bloodhunter. The one where you can choose wisdom or intelligence as ur hemocraft stat. Im currently playing one in a campaign im in with wisdom as my stat and need some multiclass advice

Same person from the ask about doing Bloodhunter multiclass advice if it helps there lvl 7 ghostslayer but i can put 2 of those levels in another class and shes mainly a ranged fighter so far

I might end up doing a full Multiclass Your... for the updated blood hunter eventually -- I was planning on doing one for the first revision back in 2020 but then, you know, 2020 happened.

To answer for your specific situation:

If you're looking for a tank or damage-per-second multiclass, I'd stay away from barbarian or ranger. Ranger abilities at early levels have a high amount of overlap with your early-level abilities as a blood hunter (Hunter's Bane basically gives you Favored-Enemy-esque bonuses against certain creature types, for instance). Barbarian could be good for some blood hunters, but since you're mostly going at range, I'd advise against it -- rage is much easier to maintain up-close, even though halving certain types of damage can be a very sweet asset.

My favorite for you here is fighter. The second fighting style option is a cool idea, but you'd really want to be in this for the Second Wind, which can offset the damage you deal to yourself with blood maledicts. At second level you'd get an Action Surge, so you could conceivably have 4 attacks in some rounds -- which equals extra Crimson Rite damage all the time!

My other pick for your tank/dps multiclass is rogue. Your crimson rites make your weapon damage magical, which means you'd get a little extra bang for your sneak attack buck -- but this is more of an investment, since the real benefits come with the second level. A rogue's cunning action can seriously amp up your combat mobility and ramp up your self-defense maneuvers.

If you want to head the other route for some caster-level shenanigans, I would recommend a Light or Grave Domain cleric, both of which can tie in really well with the abilities and flavor of a Ghostslayer. The Grave cleric's Eyes of the Grave and Circle of Mortality are especially good for you, and the cleric's second-level Channel Divinity turn undead and both domains' unique channel divinities will also compound that anti-undead, radiant-light energy you're bringing to the table.

But if being the backup healer isn't for you, consider the humble bard. Depending on how frequently you use your blood curses, you might have room to spend your bonus actions on bardic inspiration. A couple spell slots to sling around (stay away from concentration spells, though!) will help out, too, and Jack of All Trades and Song of Rest are excellent features that can enhance your out of combat experience.

Hope this helps!

[steamberrystudio]

25/07/2022 Devlog

Hello everyone!

Just popping in with an update on Quill's route

Summary:

Finished the second big revision of Quill's route

Finished up proofreading/typo correction (round 1)

Scripted Quill's route into Renpy

Created the chapter title cards

Staged all the BG and major sprite changes

Set up preliminary scoring

The Ramble:

Okaaay.

So I've finished the second big revision of Quill's route, fixing some lingering issues and cleaning up the dialogue a little more.

I also finished running the script through editing software to catch as many typos and minor style/grammar issues as possible. Fortunately this only takes a couple of days because it's incredibly boring compared to other revisions.

But when that was done, the writing was ready to be scripted into Renpy. =O

By "scripting", I just mean I take the raw draft from scrivener, put it into Renpy, and turn it into functional code. This doesn't really take that long as I write in sort..."pseudo-code" anyway, so I mostly have to make indentation fixes and correct any small errors like forgetting a quotation mark, colon, or bracket.

I set up the preliminary scoring of the "romance points" - I don't really keep track of these while I write; I just make note of where the "stat checks" will appear. So after the route is all scripted, I go through and make a spreadsheet that tracks all the choices and what they're doing point-wise. Then tally up what is the total possible points a player can have at a given moment and I calculate whatever percentage I want to have the game check for. Again, doesn't take a terribly long time to get that done.

I created the chapter title cards for Quill's route and put them in the game.

And finally I have done the basic staging for major background and sprite changes. So this is basically me marking in the script where we change backgrounds (and what we change to and, if necessary, what transition is being used) as well as marking down any places a sprite newly appears on screen or gets hidden as well as the position that sprite needs to be in.

Even though none of the assets are ready yet, by noting the basic staging, once I have the assets ready, it'll make it much easier to code the backgrounds and sprites into the game.

So...in summary, I have moved into the next phase of getting Quill's route ready, which is where I'm no longer focused on writing but am starting to focus on the initial coding and asset preparation.

Sneak Peeks and Previews:

None yet unless you want a screen cap of the code. LoL

Upcoming Weeks:

So now that the bulk of the writing phase is over (there's still beta testing which involves a lot of typo and continuity fixing. Which is technically writing...but the script is complete. Just needs to continue to be polished - though that will come later), I am moving into the phase of "There are literally 300 things on this to-do list and I am not sure which ones I'll tackle this week."

I do know that my immediate focus will be on prepping all the backgrounds for Quill's route. Quill's route, like Lance's route, is relatively contained in terms of backgrounds, so it shouldn't take long.

And, unfortunately, as a lot of the BGs are indoors, I don't think there's a lot of space for BG animations like in some of the other routes.

Once I have those completed, I'll put them into the game and go back through to make sure all the BG changes are set up correctly.

After that, I'm not totally sure. I may shift to working on some sprite stuff. Some characters already have sprites in the game - Quill, Morgan, Rory, and any Endgame people who show up. However, Quill, Morgan, and Rory all need additional variations or edits to their sprites. 

I have two other character sprites (Locke and Vale) nearly completed. Neither is in the game and both need more variations.

There are three additional unique sprites needed (Neel, Aritz, and Vic), then an assortment of "Bobs"

So there's a fair amount of sprite related work to be done.

At some point in this mix I will also be putting in the music cues. I'm excited to be able to use some tracks that didn't appear in other routes. OWO

And that's kind of it for now I think. The writing is really the biggest hurdle in terms of route completion and it's now out of the way. So I'm excited to be able to move to the next phase of Quill's route.

There is still a lot of work to be done but it's always a relief to be done with the writing portion since it's such a huge chunk of the process.

Anyway, I will see you all next update! *wave*

[capt-spooki3]

By The Witch's Grace

Route Unlocked: Wilbur

Chapter Four: One on One

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

Click here for story description

Warnings: cursing, description of anxiety, light angst, injuries, blood, talk of scars

4.7k words

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Y/n stepped down the stairs on the porch, they decided on going to see what Wilbur was doing since he was sitting next to the house. As they walked down the last step, they had turned to say hello to him but Wilbur had already hopped up with the guitar in hand and a big smile on his face when he saw them.

“Hey! Uh Y/n, good morning, I was going to ask if you could help teach me guitar?” He held the instrument up in his hands, gently like he was afraid to break it. “You seem like you’d be a good teacher.”

They looked him over and couldn’t help a smile and giggle at his gentleness.

“Yeah, I would love to teach you, here let’s go to the basement. I have my music books down there and we can get started teaching you some scales.” They offered to him, walking over to guide him to the lower doors on the home, and his eyes lit up as he followed them with excitement.

“I have to warn you though, it’s been a year or two since I’ve played anything, so I might not be as great of a teacher as you think.” They said while keeping the door held open for him to walk inside after them.

“You know more than me at least. I think that will make you a fine enough teacher” He spoke with an obvious smile in his voice, closing the door so he could follow after them and stopping only when Poppy ran up to him with a loud meow so he took a couple of moments to pet her. “I gotta go, sorry sweetie.”

Y/n jogged down the stairs, glancing back to see if Wilbur was behind but heard the soft meow of Poppy and figured he was giving her attention. They walked over to the bookcase filled with music books, all of them being hand-me-downs from the old woman from town that was practically their family now. She didn’t have any children of her own so Y/n simply took up the role for her so they inherited all of the music-related things they had. She was too busy to ever use it and happily gave it away when Y/n showed interest, but not before teaching them how to play.

They hummed while looking over the books, trying to find the one they knew had beginner information in it when Wilbur hurriedly joined them downstairs. They gave him a quick glance, seeing Poppy trailing right behind and tail held up high.

“Aww… she really likes you, Wilbur.”

He glanced back at the cat and smiled. “Yeah, well I really like…” He trailed off and slowly closed his mouth, clearly regretting the words he wanted to say. “Uhm, anyway, how do you... start learning this stuff?”

Y/n grabbed a book off the shelf and turned to face him, taking slow steps toward him as they flipped through pages and glanced over them. “Well, I watched my teacher play a few songs and had her teach me how to play the songs she did. That probably isn’t the best way to learn, but I think it worked pretty well.” They shut the book with a loud thump and extended it to him.

“If you want to learn chords and stuff first though, we can do that. Just whatever you think would be easiest for you to understand.”

He quickly set down the guitar to lean against a chair then took the book from them and opened it up, looking at the pages and trying to see if anything looked familiar or if it made any sense. Of course, it didn’t. It just looked like bunches of weird words and symbols that didn’t mean anything to him.

“I think… I’d like to hear you play.” He glanced up to meet their eyes then back to the book with a laugh. “‘Cause uh, this just looks like a mess of words.”

“Fair enough,” They started as they walked over to grab the guitar from beside him. “Honestly it took me a while to understand all that musical lingo too so I don’t blame you for wanting to start here.” They plopped down in the chair that was beside his and took the small wooden pick from between the strings on the neck of the instrument and strummed a couple of times before needing to tune a few strings.

Wilbur sat down, watching them for a moment before he focused on the book and read through a few pages while Y/n got the guitar in tune. They gave it a couple more strums before nodding their head in contentment with remembering how to get it in tune and situated it on their lap so they could play.

“Okay, I think I’m all ready. So the song I’m going to play is the first one I was taught. I can’t-” They laughed out of a bit of embarrassment, putting their fingers on the right strings. “I can’t remember who wrote it, but it was called Rounds. Now let’s see here...”

-

(cue Rounds by The Oh Hellos)

-

They strummed the chords, seeming a bit unconfident as they were afraid of messing up after not playing for so long. A good few times of repeating the same lines of music, they swayed slowly from side to side as they finally got into it.

They were so busy making sure they wouldn’t mess up that they didn’t notice Wilbur, who had long abandoned the book and was sitting as close to the side of the chair nearest to them to watch. He was leaned forward but slouched a bit since he was resting on his elbows though his eyes watched their hands move to make each new bit of sound. He didn’t miss the chance to sneak glances at their face while they were completely concentrated and not worried about him.

Y/n started to hum a soft tune along with the music, to which they didn’t even notice Wilbur softly joining in with a smile. Even as they hummed louder, loudening the strums as well, he remained undetected as he harmonized with them.

They changed the chords, dying it down, and stopped humming which indicated a change to the course of the song. They let out a breath before taking in a deep one and with the final two strums, they started.

“Am I still speaking?” They straightened and flicked their attention to Wilbur who sung the words along with them, he had a soft smile and a look of pure contentment. They couldn’t help but smile a little back at him, more in surprise than anything. They had to glance back to make sure their fingering was right but looked back at him to make sure it was really him singing with them.

“Yeah, I’m long in the wind.” He dipped his head down a bit, then looked away but continued to sing. “I’ll go on and on and on again, if my chest don't cave in.”

They cut the strum short with their palm and he looked back at them, confused. “You know this song!? There’s no way.”

“Oh really? Well, what about if I…” He averted his gaze, thinking for a moment before looking back to sing again. “Be the sun as my witness! Better prophets could pen. A thousand words for every chord I could ever begin.”

“No way…”

He giggled a little at their astonishment. “That’s my favorite verse.”

"Well, now you've gotta tell me where you learned that." Y/n eyed him with a smile before turning back to the guitar as they played over some of the later parts in the song, but still casting little glances as they waited for him to speak.

"One of the maids back at the castle actually, she was like a second mother after Kristen passed, she sang that song a lot. I helped clean clothes when I wasn't on duty or training." He explained, sitting up and leaning back in the chair but still watching Y/n. "I didn’t know there was music to it though, your humming kinda shot the memory back into me."

“So you know the whole thing?”

“I believe so, why?”

They stopped playing random chords and turned their body to him so he could fully see the guitar this time. “Let’s start again. Watch my hands okay?” With a smile at him, they looked back at the strings and started the song over again but with more confidence. They tapped their foot to the beat this playthrough of the song to keep themself in time.

They played through the song flawlessly, but Wilbur was unsatisfied as he didn’t have the chords down. So they played through it again and again. By the fourth time they ended the song, Wilbur was sitting crisscrossed in the chair, hands in his hair with a confused and completely lost look on his face from not retaining any of what they played enough to try for himself. Y/n laughed to themself and stood up, stretching their body from sitting in the same position for so long.

“Okay, I have an idea if you’re comfortable with it.” They looked down to him as he messed up his hair, smoothing it all down, and watched them curiously. “I can sit on the ground with you, so it’d be easier to help, and direct your hands. We can take it chord by chord, but it’s pretty repetitive so I think you’ll do good with it.”

“Absolutely because I am so lost. Like how do you memorize this stuff? I could never.” He said while moving off the chair to sit on the rug just under the chairs.

“You’ll get it, don't worry. I swear it’s not as hard as you might think once you play enough.” They sat down right in front of him and handed him the guitar. He took it slowly and held it awkwardly, obviously very unsure of how he should be holding it. Holding back on giggling, they scooted closer and guided his hands and the instrument to its proper placements then let him get comfortable with holding it.

“Ready?”

He glanced up at them then back down to his hands and the guitar, nodding a little bit. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

With that, they directed him on where to put his fingers for each chord and when he needed it, moved his hands themself or held their hand over his so he could get a feel on how to hold it. They were incredibly patient with him even with his ever so often apology for not being the fastest learner, he was trying hard to understand and remember how to play each chord they taught him. It got easier when they got into the system to teach him one chord then play the chords he knows to revise them all in a way. And after a while, he had all the needed notes down for the entire song.

“Wait, that's it? I did it?” Wilbur sat up straight and when they nodded, he gasped and smiled before moving closer so their knees were touching. “Okay, okay teach me how it goes, I’m ready!”

“Okay! Okay,” They stopped to giggle and thought for a second to make sure they told him the right notes.

The song slowly came together, it was slower than it should be played and he messed up quite a bit but none of it discouraged him. Wilbur never once got frustrated and would just silently correct himself and look for affirmation that he did well. And once he got comfortable with the song and played through it completely, Y/n sang softly to put it all together. Needless to say, he got distracted by them and when he tried to recover, fumbled with the strings and grew flustered by his obvious nervousness. 

He let out a soft sigh, staring at the strings and very clearly thinking or seeming like he wanted to speak.

“Are you okay?” They leaned down to get into his view to which he looked at them and back at the guitar, smiling with a little laugh.

“Yeah, yeah I was just thinking… you know if you were a musical term, I think melody would fit you best.”

“You think?” He nodded confidently. “Well explain then, why would I be the melody?”

“Well truthfully, you just remind me of music. Like the parts of it that can be addicting but also more soothing than anything else, even the part of it that moves you to your core.” He met their eyes, holding the contact as he tipped his head to the side. “Yeah… just the embodiment of music. But if you were to fit somewhere specifically it would be the melody.”

They opened their mouth to ask him another question so he could talk about this more, but the sound of the front door opening and closing caught both of their attention with Phil’s voice following after.

“Y/n? Wilbur?”

“Down here!” Y/n called, leaning back to look over at the stairs. Phil made his way down the stairs and stalled as he looked over the scene of the two but just smiled.

“Hey, I’m going to start cooking. You two take a break and come help me, alright?” He told them before heading back up the stairs. Poppy, who had been fast asleep in one of the plush chairs, had perked up when hearing Phil and jumped off and ran past Y/n and Wilbur to follow him upstairs. They both put away the couple of things they got out before walking upstairs and to the kitchen.

“But seriously Wilbur, you’re doing really well. You kept going strong no matter how many times you messed up. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you Y/n, maybe I’ll get better than you.” He teased, shoving them lightly with his shoulder and earning a shove right back before they walked ahead of him to see Phil. He was already busy dicing an onion with some meat already cooking.

Phil looked back when the two approached him but quickly turned back to watch his hands. “What were you two up to? It looked like you were teaching Wilbur guitar.”

“They were and I have to say,” Wilbur leaned on the counter beside Phil. “I think I’m doing pretty well. In all honesty, I think I might be a melomaniac.” He looked over at Y/n and looked them up and down with a smile, but turned back to Phil and talked about whenever he found interesting from learning to play the guitar as if what he did never happened. 

-

“Come on, just look through it with me please!!” Wilbur begged Y/n, walking around in front of them to stop them from walking out the door as he held a thick book in hand.

The whole morning he had been trying to get Y/n to tell him what their favorite song was and as soon as he got the dreaded ‘I don’t know’ he raced to find the biggest music book he could so they could find one to show him. They were supposed to go practice magic with Phil as soon as they were done eating and didn’t want to leave him waiting any longer than they had to.

“I’m sorry, I can’t right now. Look I will once I’m done I promise!” They pushed his arm gently to get him to move, but all they got was a pout out of him. They rolled their eyes and sighed, taking a step back. “Okay um, I remember a song in one of those books. It was one of my favorites to play. Uh, one of the lines was… ‘days fade into a watercolor blur’ but I can't remember the name right now, can I go?”

“Yes! Absolutely, thank you my melody, I hope your magic lessons go well!” He patted their back before he raced off past them and assumably down to the basement, leaving them very caught off guard.

“Melody..?” They stood there thinking for a moment, but shook it off and headed out of the door to find Phil. He said he’d be sitting with the chickens that morning so obviously, that was their first place to look. Just as expected, he was sitting in the dirt with a rooster in his lap and a few of the rooster’s hens hanging around. Phil glanced up and when noticing Y/n he smiled and waved them over.

“Hey! Sorry, I meant to be here sooner but Wilbur was insistent that I show him my favorite song from my music books.” They explained, walking slower when they neared Phil as to not disturb the chickens and sat down in front of him.

He chuckled and watched the rooster as he pets him. “That’s quite alright mate. He’s really taken a  liking to you, I’m sure you’ve already been able to tell though.” He just smiled fondly, taking in a deep breath. “He never has been one for keeping his feelings hidden away, just like with Sally, the poor boy wears his heart on his sleeve. I bet he doesn’t even realize, he probably thinks he’s being so sly.”

Y/n laughed a little bit at his assessment. Phil was spot on, but after raising someone it wouldn’t be too hard to know all about them. They reached out when a hen came out to them and stroked the side of her face with their finger. “He’s sweet though, I didn’t expect him to be so eager to take up all my time.”

“Well…” They looked up at Phil when he trailed off then followed his eyes when he looked over to the house. They then noticed Technoblade sitting beside the house, obviously meditating. “In case you get tired of Will, you can always go give Techno some company. I think he’d like your presence.” Turning back to Phil, he watched them with a hopeful expression but dropped it when they just stared at him. He slowly got up, giving the rooster time to hop off his lap.

“You don’t have to for my sake, I just think it would do him good to have a partner- er uh-” He stopped, fumbling over words a little bit. “I mean- like a friend. A companion. But choose who you wish! I’m not picking sides here.” A blatant lie. They couldn’t help but laugh at him.

Y/n stood up, assuming Phil wanted to move somewhere else. “Of course, Of course. I think it would be hard to get tired of him though.” They watched the hen they were giving attention peck around on the ground near their feet. “He’s giving me a new found passion for music because of his excitement towards it, it’s refreshing.”

He chuckled softly, walking past them and patting their shoulder. They turned to follow him and stayed quiet while they walked slightly behind him but at his side. He stopped at the tree line and looked in, seeming a bit lost in thought, and turned to them after a moment.

“Y/n, would you mind telling me about the eye?”

They went quiet, not sure how to respond as the light heartedness of the situation was stripped from them at the mention. Instead, they looked down at the necklace which forever hung around their neck. At this point, it felt more like something chaining them down than a tool to help them be a better mage like they hoped it would be. “Where do I even start?” They tried to laugh off the lump rising in their throat but looking up and meeting Phil’s worried expression just made tears prick their eyes. He took a step closer to them, but they took a few back in response. “No, no I’m fine just… I’m okay.” They kept their eyes on the ground, sniffling as they felt a tear run down their cheek.

“Mate, we don’t have to talk about it if it’s hard to.” Phil said softly, keeping his distance from them.

“It just… made me realize how afraid it made me. It's…” They looked up suddenly, still having tears in their eyes. “Phil, it’s taken over me. It’s- it’s possessed me! I was so scared when it happened. I mean it has only happened twice but what happens when it does again!? I don’t- I-I don’t know…” Their breaths got caught in their throat and they took short shuddering gasps trying their hardest to contain it and not break down. Not here, not in front of someone they just started to know and trust. They felt their legs start to get weak and their vision was nothing but a blur from the tears.

Phil grabbed ahold of their arms and they met his eyes, now noticing how hard they were breathing. He pulled them in and hugged them tightly to which they held onto him, using him as a solid form to help them ground themself again. They mumbled small things about how scary it was to wake up halfway down their forest path to town and how they could feel the evilness of the eye right before it took over. He stayed quiet and listened to them, rubbing their back slowly once they had calmed down a little.

They took a deep breath and rested their forehead against his shoulder. Finally releasing a little bit of the pent-up fear and anxiety that was building up around the eye had lifted the static that festered in their chest. “Phil…” Y/n said quietly as they slowly pulled away from him though they kept their eyes averted away. “Is there anything I can do to get rid of this?”

“I…” He started but trailed off. It was clear he was clueless, still, he cleared his throat and reached over to rub their arm comfortingly. “I’ll figure something out. I promise.” They looked back at him and he smiled at them which finally earned a small smile in return. “Do you still want to learn some magic? I know some music-related spells.” When their eyes lit up a bit, he chuckled and took a seat on the ground, ushering them to join him.

Y/n spent most of the day outside with Phil. He taught them little spells and tricks to incorporate magic into their music, he sang a few songs as a way to show them and it turned out he had a rather nice voice. A few times when they got caught up in emotions, he offered fatherly advice and joked with them to lighten the mood. He was quickly growing to be like the father they never had… or at least remembered having. It was until he was in the middle of meditating with them that Tommy came up to them, he was dirty and holding onto his forearm with a bit of blood that was seeping through his fingers. Y/n saw him first as they opened an eye when hearing footsteps approaching them. He kept his eyes on the ground, clearly trying to make it seem like he didn’t have tears in his eyes.

They jumped up and ran over to him, startling Phil who finally noticed his son. “Oh, Tommy what happened!?” They reached over to look at his arm, he pulled away at first and they looked at him. He met their eyes and sniffled again, finally letting his arm go to show them a deep cut that was actively bleeding. “Oh my gosh, are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere else are you?” They asked him while taking off the cloth they were using as a belt and wrapped it around his arm to help maintain the bleeding and checked him over right after. Phil was beside them now, looking Tommy over while he stared at the ground.

“I didn’t think the sheep could actually be that scary, I-” He hiccuped a little, squeezing his eyes shut to stop himself from crying more but they fell anyway. It seemed that getting hurt overwhelmed him. Phil brushed some of his hair back and softly consoled him to calm him down. It took a moment, but he started talking again. “I was messing with them and tried getting on one’s back, it bucked me off and that upset a few of them and they ran at me. I was running away and tried jumping over the fence and that… obviously didn’t go well for me.”

“Aw… yeah it’s barbed wire. Let’s get you inside, I can help you clean this-”

“It’ll take too long, it’ll get infected if we let it be.” Phil butted in and moved Y/n’s hands off of Tommy’s arm. He undid the cloth that was thoroughly bloody now and gave it back to Y/n. He gently put his hand over the cut and kept it there as it glowed a soft white, within no time he took it away and the wound had closed up enough that it wasn’t open. “You’ll still need to clean it but-”

“Oooh! It’s been forever since you’ve done that, that was so cool!” Tommy said excitedly, his eyes and nose were still a little red from crying, but he was smiling and looking at Phil with bright eyes like he wasn’t upset just a second ago. “Can you do that again?”

“Wha- no! You’d have to get hurt again for me to do that- and do not go get trampled by the sheep or some shit.” He sighed, lightly laughing. “You little shit- are you alright though? You’re not hurt anywhere else right?”

Tommy shook his head and looked down at his arm, wiping away some of the half-dried blood that only smeared more from the blood on his hand. “I probably have some bruises, but now I just smell like shit.” Phil laughed and went around him, patting his back and pushing him forward to get him to start walking back to the house to which Y/n followed right beside.

Techno seemed to know something was up as he put down the wooden staff he was training with and hurried over to the three of them. “Did something happen?” He immediately noticed the blood on Tommy and grabbed his shoulder to stop him and looked him over.

“He’s fine, mate, don’t worry. I healed him up, he’s okay.” Phil said in a hurry to cure Techno’s worry. 

“Haha yeah bitch, now I’ll have a badass scar like you.” Tommy said with a smug look, but Techno just rolled his eyes and gave him a little shove.

“It’s only badass if you have a cool story behind it.” He corrected and held his head up to look down at his brother. “What’s your super cool story behind it?”

Tommy puffed his chest out and stood tall to try and seem as big as Technoblade. “Yeah, well I had to fight off all the sheep in the pastu-”

“Okay! Nope, inside with you!” Y/n grabbed his arm and pulled him away and toward the steps of the porch. “You two can continue your little… whatever this is inside, you need to get cleaned up.”

He groaned and made a face at them. “Yeah okay, MOM.” He snickered and rushed inside with Phil following after with a smile. They followed the two, watching Techno jog over to grab the staff he left before he started walking back to the house.

Y/n grabbed herbs and soap once they got into the house and helped Tommy clean himself up before they sent him off to bathe. They washed the blood off of their belt the best they could before they went back downstairs to put away their things by themself before hearing a knock on the wall. Turning around, there was Wilbur beside the stairs watching them.

“Hey there.” He started with a bit of a smile and walked over to them to watch where they were putting everything. “Um, once you’re done, want to come see what I’ve learned today?” He watched them expectantly and they couldn’t help a smile. They reached into a barrel and pulled out two apples, throwing one to him without warning though he still caught it.

“Yeah, let’s go. Bet you’re still not as good as me.” They walked past him and nudged him with their shoulder playfully. He chuckled and followed behind with a poke to their arm.

“Mmm yeah we’ll see about that, won’t we”

___________________________________________

taglist:

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[bleachbleachbleach]

I’ve had a decent amount of time to think about my fic this week, by virtue of having had to drive across the state four times, and I think the plot (such as it were) is beginning to take shape, particularly in the second half! There are definitely some big swings that need to happen revision-wise between the highway version and the actually-written version of this magical and alleged “second half,” because at this point, independent of each other, Hitsugaya and Rukia have managed to basically write themselves out of this story and I’m just like... you guys... no. Stop, that’s illegal, re-roll. You have to be here, because I said so. PULL IT BACK.

I think I know how to re-route Rukia, though it may require things of me that, as a writer, I am historically not great at. But I’ve also already made that bed for myself, choosing to write for an ensemble cast (ensembles, in Bleach? how unexpected!) with a shifting third limited POV, when I think I really only feel comfortable writing one Bleach character’s POV and that character is NOT IN THIS FIC, LOL. So, you know, why not just add a few more challenge modes. yeehawwwwwww~~~

As for Hitsugaya, idk. I’ll have to come back to him. But Renji’s storyline is developing and is better than it was before! He seems perfectly happy with it as-is, though I’m not sure if I am yet. And everyone else has like, their two things that they are About, but as the plot has developed I feel like they’re feeling a little thin again. I’d originally envisioned this fic as being equally about all of its players, but maybe it’s not and there are in fact core vs. supporting storylines. Or maybe I’m just being a baby and need to spend a second round of quality time with the others to figure out their deals, haha.

Things that I have learned so far that I wasn’t expecting: Matsumoto is capable of being genuinely upset with Hitsugaya, and Soujun is in this fic?! I mean, in a dead kind of way. But who knew!

[yourartisantisemitic]

Is it recommended to get rid of all inhuman traits from a benrey design I have? I’ve revised my benrey after doing thorough research (human skintone, straight teeth, smaller and more rounded nose), but I’ve failed to find the answer to if non-human traits are still antisemetic on their own. Thank you so much!

Honestly? Non-human traits are fine! You just have to be careful. If you're unsure if you can give benrey certain traits without being antisemetic, it's best to stay away from it alltogether. You don't have to go the caricature route! You could give him, like. Bug antennae. Love me a mothboy benrey. Or a second pair of arms! Or like, marbled rainbow skin or something! You can get creative. You don't have to default to making pointed blue skin sharp teeth claws.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 5 - It Was You

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Just when Hermione thought nothing worse could plague her than her constant nightmare, she has a very different kind of dream. How is she ever going to look Ronald in the face again? All she wanted was to do well in her classes, get S.P.E.W. off the ground, and finally get a good nights sleep.

Fred continues to find himself more than amazed at the infinite facets of Hermione Granger.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: A second update this week because I like you guys so much! :) 

I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 4

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Moments fall like crimson nights Some stick to my skin tonight Take a breath and shake them off Eyes ahead, don't you wait too long

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“If I have to write one more word about the goblin rebellions, I think I might off myself.” Ron threw down his quill, ink splotching across this parchment, and let his head fall into his hands.

“Be careful. If you do, I guarantee Professor Trelawney will say she predicted it all along because Venus was in retrograde and you’re a Pisces,” Harry responded flatly, resulting in a smile from Ron.

Hermione would never admit it, but she secretly agreed with Ron. While not quite as distressed as her ginger friend, she did find the weekly essays assigned by Professor Binns tedious and incredibly lacking in challenge. Perhaps she found the whole thing tiresome because she already knew everything there was to know about the goblin rebellions, but it also didn’t help that the ghostly professor was about as exciting as an old shoe.

“Hermione…” Ron drew out her name like he had just come to an idea. Hermione, very familiar with this tone, knew exactly what his idea was.

“No,” she responded sternly, scribbling away at her own parchment about the various defense tactics utilized by the goblins.

“Pleeeaaase?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?”

She sighed. “I will edit and revise Ronald Weasley, and nothing more.”

“You’re the best, honestly.” Ron grinned and picked up his quill again, dipping it in his ink and scribbling away with renewed energy. His stupid grin made Hermione smile and roll her eyes before returning to her own essay. While she wished that Ron and Harry could just do their own work themselves, she did realize that not everyone had the discipline that she had. However, that didn’t mean she had to stop trying to get them to work harder. She knew for a fact that their potential far exceeded their marks.

They worked in silence for a while, the scratching of quill on parchment and shuffle of students walking past filling Hermione’s ears as her brain turned over, pulling out fact after fact.

In a blazing sense of pride, she finished her last sentence, tying her conclusion together perfectly, and placed her quill down on the table. At the click, both Ron and Harry looked over to her with wide eyes of disbelief.

“You’re finished already?” gaped Harry.

“I’ve barely gotten three paragraphs written. How can you possibly be finished already?!” exclaimed Ron. Hermione shushed him, glancing over at Madame Pince’s disapproving glare.

“Some of us, Ronald, utilize our time efficiently,” Hermione responded coolly as she placed her things back into her bag. She didn’t bother mentioning that she spent her last three hours in the library as opposed to their meager thirty minutes, or that she took her break after morning Transfiguration to study as well. Her eyes itched from staring at off-white pages and black script and for once she finished all her work and read ahead in all her classes. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was attending five less classes than the previous year.

There was also the small fact that she no longer slept. Nearly a month into school and she still barely slept four hours a night. When panic inducing nightmares weren’t causing her to toss and turn, she was studying. And when she wasn’t studying, she was working on her new endeavor – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, otherwise known as S.P.E.W. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup and the horrid treatment of Winky, the house elf, she knew she had to do something. This became even more clear when she found out Hogwarts was run almost entirely on house elf labor. In all her years never did she imagine that her beloved school used essentially slavery to cook and clean. It was wrong. It was barbaric. One would assume that in a world filled with magic, where one was only limited to the bounds of one’s imagination, they would be a bit more progressive. Unfortunately, though, it seemed to be the opposite. In fact, Hermione had never met a group of people so routed in their ways as the wizarding world. Of course, it would be foolish to assume that an entire world would be impermeable to prejudices when the muggle world was not.

Therefore, where all of her time was normally spent in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron or watching the Gryffindor quidditch team practice on the pitch, she now spent it nose deep in a book or attempting to recruit new S.P.E.W. members. Her absence had not gone unnoticed – in fact, it became so blatantly clear that Harry confronted her outright between Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.  

“I don’t understand Hermione, is it something I’ve done?” Harry ran a hand through his unruly locks, distress obvious on his face.

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done Harry,” Hermione picked at her nails, feeling uncomfortable.

“Was it, Ron? I’m sure whatever he said, he didn’t mean it.” Hermione ignored the grating irritation at Harry’s blind defense of Ronald.

“No, it’s not Ron.”

“Then what? Come on Hermione, you know you can tell me anything.”

Hermione looked at her best friend and sighed. His kind eyes shone from behind his round spectacles with sincerity and concern.

“I’m not avoiding you or Ron. I’m just stressed about our O.W.L.s next year—" she paused “—You can never be too prepared, and I need to do well on them.”

Harry looked at her with a confused expression, “Hermione, they’re not for another year! Are you seriously stressing over something so far away?”  

“Yes? No? I guess…I guess I’m just used to studying all the time. You know, what with the time-turner last year and all. And then of course there’s S.P.E.W. No one seems to care at all that these poor elves are being worked day and night without any pay. I mean, it’s horrendous!” Hermione half-lied, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. She wanted to be honest with Harry, but she didn’t know how. The real reason felt stupid. What was she to say? Sorry I’ve thrust myself into my work more than ever Harry; I just can’t stop having nightmares about something that happened nearly two months ago and I’m trying to distract myself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, “I get it.”

“You do?” His remark caught her off guard as she wasn’t even sure if she understood it.

“You’re an absolute swot. Don’t get me wrong, we all love that about you, but you need to learn when to relax and have some fun,” Harry finished with a grin.

“You prat—” Hermione hit his arm with the back of her book “—Don’t call me a swot. But you’re right. I need balance.”  

“And I guess as appointed Secretary of S.P.E.W., I could do a bit more for the cause.”

Hermione lit up at the words. “Really? Oh Harry, thank you so much! I’m making more buttons tonight, maybe you could help me? Then tomorrow we can try and canvas some of the other houses for new members!”

“Well, if you’re so efficient, you should be able to help me finish mine!” argued Ron desperately, bringing Hermione back to the present.

“Ronald, I told you before. I’m not doing your assignment for you. You have to learn it on your own,” she whispered.

“When am I ever going to need to know about all the goblin leaders? Besides, you like doing this sort of stuff.”

“Ronald, I said n—”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

Merlin, Hermione thought at the sound of unified voices. Rolling her eyes, she turned to see Fred and George standing behind her.

“Hey Fred, hey George,” Harry greeted them cheerfully, placing his quill down – happy for an excuse to stop working.

“Hullo Harry,” they responded in unison.

“Any progress on entering our names for the tournament?” Ron asked expectantly. Much to Hermione’s disproval, Fred and George promised him a try at whatever they whipped up as soon as they knew it was successful, and Ron had not stopped talking about it.

“We’re nearly there,” George grinned.

“So, we’ll know in about two days whether it works or not,” said Fred, leaning against a bookshelf casually. Two days? Hermione thought with alarm. Was it really the 29th of October already? That meant the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, the other competing schools, were to arrive tomorrow evening! She needed to go back to her dormitory and rework her schedule. She had no room to pencil in excitement and new student arrival that week. She opened her planner to begin revising.

“How confident are you that it’ll work?” asked Ron, leaning forward in excitement.

“Extremely,” the twins answered.

Hermione let out an indecent snort and rolled her eyes again. Fools.

“Something you’d like to add Granger?” asked George, looking over at her.

“Yes, hullo to you also. So nice of you to acknowledge us in a friendly manner,” accused Fred sarcastically.

“I think some lessons are best learned through experience, rather than lecture,” said Hermione, carefully picking her words before tucking her planner into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But you love to lecture us, are you sure you aren’t raring to tell us how wrong we are?” asked Fred, fluttering his eyelashes sweetly.

Hermione gave a short laugh, “Please. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“A lost cause? You hear that Georgie? We’re a lost cause.”

“I don’t know…sounds to me like she’s just afraid of a challenge Freddie.”

“It’s not a challenge if all I’m doing is slowly melting my brain trying to reason with the pair of you,” scoffed Hermione.

“Oh, I can melt your brain just fine, if that’s what you’d like,” stated Fred, stepping forward cockily.

“Is your wit really so primitive that you have to resort to sexual innuendo all the time?” Hermione asked, her heart rate picking up in her chest as their conversation turned more heated.

“Sexual innuendo? I have no idea what you’re referring to Granger. I was merely saying I might be smarter than you think. Are you sure you aren’t projecting a bit there?”

“You’re a child,” Hermione bit back, feathers ruffled that Fred seemed to be over his initial shock response to her comebacks and instead was meeting her beat for beat. His eyes held a shine to them as he smiled down at her in excitement.

“Resorting to name-calling now? I thought higher of you,” sighed Fred, tapping the end of her nose condescendingly. Hermione batted his hand away, feeling her hair begin to crackle. She was getting too upset. She needed to calm down and show him that she was better than him.

Taking a small, calming breath, she straightened her posture before replying, “That doesn’t surprise me Frederick. I’m sure it’s easy to think highly of me when your potential is so low.”

Hermione took that moment to make her exit. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the library, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. A warm flush covered her face and bled down her neck as she scurried through the halls. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Despite his ample fight, she felt quite confident that she won the battle. His lack of biting response as she left, supported as much. Departing before he could speak might have been a cheap way to go about it, but she reasoned there was no clean way to fight when it came to the Weasley twins. A small giggle bubbled up in her chest as she replayed the conversation in her head. Invigorated by the whole event, she ran the rest of the way to the Gryffindor tower. Rounding corners and sprinting up staircases, exhaustion filled her small frame by the time she came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her lungs ached from the exercise and her shoulder and back ached from the heavy books weighing her bag down. She gasped the password through pants and entered as she tried to catch her breath. Fellow Gryffindors cast odd looks in her direction as she scurried up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but she didn’t care. Her room was empty and for that she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was a forced conversation with Lavender or Pavarti. Perhaps the physical exertion would act as a sleeping agent and she would finally fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. Best to ride the wave and go to bed while I’m still tired¸ she thought. Sluggishly, she changed out of her uniform and crawled into bed. Nagging thoughts tugged at the back of her mind, telling her to brush her teeth, but the exhaustion in her body told her to sleep. Ultimately her body won, and sleep took over.

Hermione’s mind swam the next day as she sat in double potions with the Slytherins. It was nearing the end of class and Professor Snape was taking the time to explain to them why their potions had been improperly brewed in one way or another. Hermione’s hadn’t of course, but that didn’t stop him from berating her for being an ‘insufferable little know-it-all’, and then accusing her of helping any student that didn’t manage to burn a hole in their cauldrons. She diligently took notes as Snape droned on and on, but her mind failed to connect to the words she was writing down on the parchment. All thoughts and worries were currently focused on an embarrassing personal crisis. The dream.

While Hermione thought nightmares were the worst thing, she could possibly endure in her sleeping state, she had to admit she had been wrong. No, apparently there was something much, much worse stewing in her brain waiting for vulnerable unconsciousness to leap out and take form.

She had been in the library, wandering through the sections of towering shelves when she appeared in a section, she was unfamiliar with. Turning a corner her eyes grew wide at the sight of two older students locked in an intimate embrace. Her heart started to race, and her breathing began to pick up as she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to leave but found herself unable to move – her feet glued to the floor. That’s when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a pair of lips kissing up her neck. Her hands went up, one grabbing at the fingers that dug roughly into her flesh and the other threading itself through long thick hair. She turned her head only to see that the hair between her fingers was a brilliant shade of ginger. The realization was so shocking to her that she awoke from her dream, sitting ramrod straight – heart pounding, sweat-slicked, and breathing heavily.

Her face blushed just thinking about it. Turning her head casually to the right, she spied one of her best friends. Ronald Weasley sat next to Harry, slumped forward in his seat, head resting in his hand. His long hair hung way past his eyes, concealing them completely. Hermione, knowing Ron, would bet on her life that they were closed, and he was verging on sleep. She knew he wasn’t fully asleep though, because if he were there would be loud snores coming from his direction. Him. He was the one her mind decided to fantasize about. Why? She studied him, her eyes tracing the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t bad looking; she always quite liked his hair and pale complexion. He had a kind heart and could be quite charming when he wanted to be, the problem was that rarely did he want to be. He could be quite cruel and insensitive without knowing it, and he didn’t care for much other than Quidditch. Is that really what she wanted in a partner? Hermione scoffed at her mental ramblings. Here she was, wondering if Ronald Weasley were her potential first love without considering that he would probably never be interested in her. After all, her hair was a bushy, frizzy mess, her teeth were far too big for her mouth, and her otherwise plain features left much to be desired. Not to mention her overall swotty personality. Still, hadn’t he told her that she was ‘the best’? And he certainly didn’t mind being her friend. What if he did like her?

“Miss Granger, is there something on Mr. Weasley’s face that’s so interesting that you cannot be bothered to pay attention?” The sound of Professor Snape’s voice brought Hermione out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find all eyes on her. The Slytherins snickered around her, and Ron and Harry looked at her in surprise. Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“No Professor, my apologies,” she mumbled, looking down at her notes.

“Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger’s lack of interest. Class dismissed,” snipped Professor Snape as he turned towards his office. Hermione packed her bag and exited the classroom as quickly as possible.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, him and Ron catching up to her with ease.

“Sorry guys, I got lost in thought and didn’t realize where I was looking. I guess I should have been paying attention,” Hermione stammered, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem Hermione. Snape’s a git and no one blames you. I was almost asleep near the end there too,” Ron piped in with a friendly smile. Hermione felt her stomach flip.

“Thanks Ronald.” She smiled back.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of love birds, boys,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he came up beside them. “When’s the wedding? I’m sure it’ll be just lovely, or at least as lovely as five knuts’ll get you.”

Hermione scowled at the silver-hair bully, with all his sharp pointed features and disgustingly greasy demeanor, as he laughed along with his goons. She rolled her eyes and grabbed both Harry and Ron by the arm, leading them on towards the front of the castle. Ridiculous. That’s what she was being. It was ridiculous to waste her time worrying about some absurd dream when that’s all it was – a dream. Besides, she didn’t know for certain it was Ron who she dreamed about. There were plenty of red heads in the world.

Outside the main entrance they found Ginny next to Neville in a crowd of students.

“Did we miss anything?” asked Ron, looking excitedly about.

“Nothing yet, you’ve made it just in time I think!” Ginny exclaimed in glee. The castle was in a fit of excitement. Even the Slytherins, who didn’t find much joy in anything school related, seemed to be chomping at the bit for their guests to arrive and the Triwizard Tournament to finally take off. Hermione, too, was excited but more at the thought of getting to meet students from other magical schools. She had taken the liberty of reading as much as she could on the histories of both Durmstrang and Beauxbaton and was informing Ginny on their key similarities and differences when several gasps and shouts erupted around them.

“Look!” Ginny yelled, pointing up at the sky above them. Hermione followed her finger upwards to see a large horse-drawn carriage flying through the clouds, pulled by a dozen flying horses the size of elephants. She watched as they soared through the air, their wings pumping up and down in synchronization. The size of the horses was comparable to what they were pulling, for as it got closer, Hermione estimated the carriage to be at least twice the size of her home back in Hampstead. The carriage floated prettily, a pale cream embellished with pastel blue designs and gold trim. Obviously of French provincial style, she concluded that this was clearly the Beauxbaton students. So enthralled by the ornate and bordering ostentatious carriage and the horses pulling it, Hermione failed to notice heads turning and mouths gaping at the Black Lake. In fact, her gaze only broke away from the magnificent beasts when Ron elbowed her from behind. She turned to scold him, but caught her tongue when she noticed a daunting, black ship floating on the lake. It rocked back and forth, sending large waves crashing away from it on the usually glass-smooth surface. Hermione thought it very much resembled what happened when you dropped a large rock into a pond and wondered how it got there. Someone was sure to tell her later – there were plenty of witnesses.

“Way to make an entrance!” exclaimed Ron, followed by loud whoops and cheers as he clapped.

“A bit flashy, if you ask me,” Pansy Parkinson sniffed from a nearby group of Slytherins.

“She’s one to talk,” Hermione mumbled under her breath.

“Hah!” a boisterous laugh sounded behind her. Hermione swiveled and caught a pair of hazel eyes looking at her.

Fred leaned towards her. “Nice one Granger,” he complimented over the babble of conversation around them. His warm breath fell on her neck, all too reminiscent of her dream. Her body jerked to attention, heat creeping up her face before she smiled politely and turned away from the older boy.

“They’re coming up to the entrance!” Seamus Finnigan announced. Hermione thanked Merlin for the distraction and looked down the path leading to the front of the castle. Sure enough, there was a large group of individuals walking towards them. As they neared, the Hogwarts students cheered and applauded them, trying to welcome the foreign students like Professor Dumbledore advised. Hermione clapped softly as the first students approached. A tall and unsettling man led the group. His dark hair, speckled with bits of silver, sat heavy on his head, slicked back from his angular face. The sharp features and the long, grey goatee gave him an ominous appearance fueled even further by the deep scowl set into his mouth and piercing black eyes. He wore midnight black robes paired with a brilliantly white fur pelt over his shoulders. Igor Karkaroff. Headmaster of Durmstrang. The students behind him wore robes of deep crimson, the color sharing an eerie resemblance to the color of blood. Like their headmaster, they too donned thick furs to fight the crisp cold, only theirs held a rich color of brown. They looked incredibly warm. Subconsciously, Hermione pulled her wool robes closer around her as a strong breeze blew around them.

“Bloody hell! It’s him!” Ron shouted, his voice taking on a hysterical tone.

“Who?” asked Harry.

“Victor Krum! It’s Victor Krum! Right there in the front!” Ron pushed himself forward and past Hermione to get a better look at the famous Quidditch player coming towards them. With Ron’s tall figure in front of her, she failed to confirm whether the Bulgarian seeker truly lead the group of Durmstrang students. Ron’s excitement only increased as the visiting students got closer and then passed them into the castle.

“Ronald! I can’t see!” Hermione pounded lightly on Ron’s back with her fists until he snapped out of his star struck trance. The ginger boy turned around, a sheepish grin across his face.

“Sorry about that Hermione. Here.” Awkwardly, Ron shifted over and led Hermione to the front by her waist. For the second time that afternoon a Weasley boy reminded her of her dream, Ron’s touch all too like the arms that held her sensually the night before. She took a small step forward, putting distance between herself and Ron’s grasp. The students from Beauxbaton were the next to make their way down the path. The crowd gawked at the elegant French students as they walked poised and beautiful down the cobblestone in their blue silk uniforms. Hermione, on the other hand couldn’t help but find them annoying. They shivered and chattered their teeth in such an exaggerated manner and looked up at the castle with such disgust and judgement that she immediately took a disliking to them.

“For Merlin’s sake! It’s not that cold,” Hermione groaned as the boys and girls huddled together for warmth. Hermione thought them incredibly rude and found it idiotic that they did not think to wear warmer robes. However, someone in their party evidently had sense, as their headmistress sauntered up the path in a heavy shawl, completely unbothered by the cold. Although, Hermione wasn’t sure anything could bother the woman as she stood twelve feet tall and sturdy. A neutral expression, bored some might even call it, covered her face and despite her size, she too glided gracefully across the ground. As they walked past, Hermione could hear little bits and pieces of snide remarks from the Beauxbaton students. Apparently, they thought Hogwarts would be much nicer than it was. Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She assumed that as guests, they would have much better manners.

“Honestly, can you believe that rubbish?” Hermione exclaimed, turning to Ron and Harry behind her. Instead of meeting commiserating sentiments like she expected, the pair continued to stare at the Beauxbaton students until they disappeared completely into the castle. Their mouths hung open widely, making them look quite dumb, and Hermione turned to Ginny with a questioning look. Ginny shrugged, also confused over her brother and Harry’s behavior.

Hermione waved her hand in front of the pairs’ faces.

“Hullo! Are you two listening to me?” she asked, frowning.

“Bloody hell, did you see her?” Ron asked, in more of a trance than when he saw Krum.

“Yeah…” Harry said dreamily.

“See who?” Hermione questioned. What was wrong with them? They hadn’t acted like this since…oh goodness. Not since the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Ahhhh it seems our poor baby brother has fallen victim,” George stated woefully, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She looked up at him and then back down at his hand.

“Why are you fine?” she asked, shrugging off his hand.

“Oh, Alicia and Angelina were sure to snap us out of it,” Fred stated, then placing his hand on her shoulder.

“And how exactly did they do that?” She raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his hand as well.

“Like this!” the twins shouted before reeling back and smacking both Harry and Ron in the back of the head. The two fourth year Gryffindors yelled out in pain, grasping at their heads before spinning around and glaring at Fred and George.

“What the hell was that for?!” Harry barked.

“You were drooling mates,” George smirked.

“And it’s time to go back in,” Fred pointed behind them at the entrance to the castle where most of the students were filing through already.

They followed the crowd back into the castle and through the corridor into the Great Hall. It seemed the Durmstrang students took a special liking to the Slytherins as almost all of them were seated at their table. The Beauxbaton students seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table, much to Ronald’s disdain. And it was Ronald’s unhappiness that also fueled Hermione’s sore mood as well. Silently she ate her dinner and watched as Ron fawned and drooled and ogled the girls from Beauxbaton for the entirety of the night. When a particularly pretty one approached their table asking him for the bouillabaisse, Ron was left speechless.

“Honestly, Ronald. She’s just a girl. You know, like every other girl in this school. Including myself,” Hermione tried to reason with him.

Eyes still trained on the French beauty, Ron responded with incredulity, “That’s ridiculous Hermione. She’s no girl. That right there is a woman. Leagues above any girl here at Hogwarts.”

A woman? What did that even mean? She was only a few years older than Hermione. She didn’t even look that much older. Hermione turned her attention back to the food on her plate and found that she had lost her appetite. So instead, she pulled a book from her bag and buried herself behind it, slowly sinking lower into her seat as the night went on. She missed the moment they revealed the cup that competitors were to put their name in, too engrossed in the words on the page, and when dinner was over, she was the first to leave the Great Hall. Only, she didn’t head straight for the common room like she usually did. Instead, her feet carried her through the castle until she found herself in the library once again. As she seated herself in her favorite corner, she was reminded of something Professor Trelawney had said her third year. ‘Oh you may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as an old maid’s, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.’

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“Another potion successfully made brother.” Fred grinned, stretching the muscles in his neck and back.

Fred and George Weasley currently sat in an abandoned classroom as they finished the answer to all their problems. Well past curfew, the pair had just filled two vials with the clear aging potion and capped them triumphantly.

“I’d say that one was particularly easy, wouldn’t you?” George replied, standing up.

“As easy as beating Percy in a game of wits.”

“Off to bed then?”

“Actually, I think I may pop down to the kitchen and grab myself a bite to eat. Clean up here?” Fred asked, motioning around the room. The classroom was their own personal haven; tucked away in an old corner of the castle that few ventured it was their go-to space for all their inventing and brewing needs. It was only thanks to their time with the Marauder’s Map that they knew about it.

“Yeah. See you in the morning Freddie.” George waved goodbye as Fred exited the classroom and headed down towards the kitchens. The low light of the hallway candles washed the castle in a soft glow that contrasted with the icy chill of nighttime. The castle was always cold at night. However, the frigid temperature didn’t bother Fred Weasley as much as usual that night. He was far too excited to be bothered by much of anything, really. Tomorrow was the big day. They were going to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire, and it was going to be glorious. Fred had no idea if one of them would even be picked to compete, but just the idea of winning the prize money was enough to keep a spring in his step and a surge of determination coursing through his veins.

He kept quiet as he tip-toed through the halls, just in case Filch was lurking around corners. Turning down the last corridor he was surprised to see, not the scraggly old Mr. Filch, but the familiar figure of a bushy-haired fourth year. Hermione Granger stood in front of a picture on the wall, the torches in front of her illuminating her and making her hair glow like an ethereal halo.

“Hermione?”

She spun around, glancing back and forth, looking like a frightened animal. Fred stepped closer, out of the shadows so she could see him more clearly. He watched her relax, her shoulders dropping from her ears and slumping forward. She laughed lightly.

“Merlin’s beard, Frederick! You scared me!” Hermione exclaimed with an edge of relief in her voice.

“Shhhh!” Fred hushed her, rushing forward, and covering her mouth with his hand. “Do you want to wake the whole castle with your yelling or just Filch in particular?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. She stiffened beneath him, the two of them silently listening for any signs of Filch or his wretched cat, Mrs. Norris. When Fred failed to hear anything, he let out a breath of relief and looked down at the little witch in his arms. Suddenly he was awash with the memory of the last time the two of them had been that close. The night in the forest when they were hiding for their lives. He removed his hand and stepped back.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. I was coming back from the library and decided to go for a bit of a walk,” whispered Hermione, looking up at him under the glowing light of the torches. “How are we going to get back to the tower without being seen?”  

“Simple. I know a shortcut. Come on.” Fred grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her along with him down the corridor. Her hand was small and cold but fit surprisingly well in his own. His stomach growled, and mournfully he thought of the late-night snack he originally set out to get. He continued down the halls at a quick pace until they reached the tapestry he had been looking for. Tapping his wand five times at its center, he pulled back the tapestry to reveal a hidden passageway. He let go of Hermione’s hand and the two slipped behind the tapestry, letting it fall back into place behind them.

“Lumos,” Fred spoke softly, lighting the dark space with the tip of his wand.

“Amazing, this must be one of the secret passageways on the Marauders’ Map,” marveled Hermione.

They made their way down the narrow passage, taking up a leisurely pace, not feeling the pressure of getting caught by Filch or his cat. The shuffling of their feet on the cold stone filled the silent space around them as they climbed up stairways and weaved around corners. As they walked, a nagging thought pricked at the back of Fred’s mind until he couldn’t help but voice it.

“So, walks about the castle past curfew. I didn’t take you for the type Granger,” Fred teased. Hermione let out a loud and vulgar scoff. Fred turned, looking down at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The young witch lifted her chin in indignation, “What sort of type did you take me for?”

Fred shrugged, “You know, the good girl type. Doesn’t get into trouble. Doesn’t break rules. Perfect Prefect material.”

“I’ll have you know I break plenty of rules.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s Harry or Ron’s idea,” pressed Fred, hoping to goad her into revealing something he didn’t already know.

“That’s not true!” She turned her head and glared at him.

“No, don’t believe it.” Fred shook his head.

“Well, believe it because it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah, tell me one rule that you’ve broken that wasn’t Harry or Ron’s idea.” He glanced at the younger witch out of the corner of his eye. Her brows were scrunched together, her pink lips pouting as she thought. Then her face opened in excitement, eyebrows lifting and mouth opening, revealing her large front teeth below her upper lip.

“In first year, it was my idea for Harry to sneak into the restricted section of the library over Christmas holiday,” she stated proudly.

“That doesn’t count! You only thought of the idea; you made Harry do all the dirty work,” countered Fred.

“Alright, in second year I brewed Polyjuice in the girl’s lavatory and nicked lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s office to do it,” said Hermione triumphantly as they reached the end of the passageway, coming out the other side right next to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione spun around, crossing her arms in front of her as she waited for his response.

“Who’d have thought that the Hermione Granger was such a delinquent,” praised Fred, grinning widely. He was truly impressed. He had no idea that the bright little witch had it in her to steal from a teacher.

Hermione sniffed haughtily. “That’ll teach you to underestimate me, Frederick Weasley,” she stated coolly, but her golden brown eyes shown with flee, like he had just given her the best compliment in the world. He then watched in awe as she turned around, mutter the password, and disappeared through the portrait into Gryffindor tower.

“It sure will Granger, it sure will.”

Chapter 6 >>

Taglist: 

@theworldisugly-22

[maillotrugbypascherfr]

Vlasov, Izagirre give Astana-Premier Tech double Paris-Nice podium

Welcome to our bicycle news page, where you can get the latest information about bicycles. Here, we also provide the latest maillot velo Astana.

After Primož Roglič (Jumbo-Visma) suffered two crashes on the final stage of the 2021 edition of Paris-Nice, Aleksandr Vlasov and Ion Izagirre (Astana-Premier Tech) claimed the two other podium spots behind race winner Max Schachmann (Bora-Hansgrohe) after a chaotic final stage.

It wasn't smooth sailing, however, and Vlasov had to fight back from a crash on the fast, technical revised final stage to Levens.

The stage was reduced to 92.7 kilometres after a late change because of COVID-19 restrictions in Nice and the pace was on from the gun. Vlasov crashed on the first lap along with teammate Alexey Lutsenko, who later abandoned the race. After Roglic crashed a second time and it became clear the race leader would not rejoin, Astana attacked to try to distance Schachmann but couldn't shake the German and came to the finish in the same group behind stage winner Magnus Cort (EF Education-Nippo).

Vlasov ended the race as the runner-up and best young rider at 19 seconds with Izagirre rounding out the podium in third at 23 seconds.

"I am really happy with my second place and the white jersey," Vlasov said.

"I am here at Paris-Nice for the first time and it is so nice to debut in this great race with a podium result. The last day was a nervous one, the pace was incredible while the parcours was a tricky one. At one moment, I crashed together with Alexey Lutsenko, but, fortunately I was able to get back on the bike quickly and to continue the race.

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"I am sorry for race leader Primož Roglič who crashed too, I hope he is okay," said Vlasov.

"The team did a fantastic job for me and Ion in the finale. We tried to attack, I think I did it three times, and also Ion tried several times. But the last ascent was not steep, but fast, so it was almost impossible to make the difference. However, we tried and I am happy that we didn't give up."

Roglic came close to catching the end of the peloton after his first crash but a second  spill and the pain of a dislocated shoulder meant he lost time, tumbling down the overall standings from the lead to 15th place.

There were several other riders who crashed: David Gaudu (Groupama-FDJ) and Sebastian Mora (Movistar) went down and Roglic, following Tim Declercq (Deceuninck-QuickStep) almost crashed again when Declercq misjudged a bend and went off-road.

Izagirre called the route 'dangerous'.

"The stage was really crazy with high speeds all day long, attacks and crashes on a dangerous route. We had a few crashes in our team and also Roglic crashed too," Izagirre said. "I am sorry for him to lose the race in this way, but that is a part of cycling. I hope he will recover soon.

"We tried to follow our strategy and our team did a great race. On the final climb we all were in front, working hard and trying to make a selection in the group and to try to isolate Schachmann. I attacked and also Aleksandr made some attacks but with that fast pace and on a profile like the one we had, it was impossible to distance him as he is really strong in this kind of finale."

The result is Izagirre's first WorldTour stage race podium finish since he won the Itzulia Basque Country tour in 2019. " I am quite happy with my podium place. I mean this is Paris-Nice and it is a great race and a podium here is a big achievement. I am on the right way towards my biggest goals, my shape is good but I still hope to improve some things to be strong in my next races. In this race we rode really well together as a team and it was great to win the team classification."

You are welcome to click on the link to view more products on our website, purchase address: https://www.magliaciclismoit.com/. Looking forward to your purchase.

[undiagnoseddrama]

8. Get a second opinion...

Nice little introduction on the 26th October 2018. Very shortly after the pain management clinic. I got another UTI. Had to go to urgent care out of hours situation this time to see a GP as my doctors was all full. Positive. Cefalexin 500mg for 3days. ✌🏼 It so bizarre that this becomes a normal routine for me and I brush it off with nonsense. Just makes me laugh when a girl mentions they got one over the weekend and felt like they were dying. I’m like girl I feel you! Try 15/16/17 UTIs later, I’ve lost count🤷🏻‍♀️

Whether the September/October infection had come back with a vengeance or this was a new one, my body just didn’t get a break so this bout of UTIs.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Still with no answers it was back to my GP, another infection after being discharged from urology just proved I was still not good! So he referred me to gynaecology at the women’s to investigate this route. He was baffled at my condition and wanted to help me, which I’m forever grateful for as most other doctors brushed this off with ‘standard UTIs.’

23.11.18- The first gynaecology appointment.

Women’s outpatients, new chapter, new hope? Well maybe not. I was met with quite an abrupt gynaecologist who personally, I felt like he just wanted to go home😒 First of all my medical records didn’t appear on the screen and after the typical spiel of my life, he said he thought my doctor and I quote was “cheeky” for referring me back to the hospital after urology had discharged me. He was basically laughing in my face.

I said well my doctor is concerned about what’s going on and felt like you could help me in some way rather than leaving me to get antibiotics after antibiotics. He said straight away that there was nothing he could do. Never even examined me my pelvis, back etc like the other doctors or asked me deeper questions about periods etc. He just wrote a letter to URO-GYNAECOLOGY explaining he wanted to transfer me over. This team are gynaecologists who specialise in how the urinary tracts and bladder interacts with the female organs too. Years ago many people thought they were separate but this whole line of medicine shows the cross link between the two systems.

I thought great. Just pass the parcel like I don’t matter. So again I had to wait for another appointment. I reflect on this and think what if I was discharged here again. Back to nothing. Definitely one doctors opinion is not valid in your health! Remember that!🙌🏼

20.12.18 - This day was a bit of a game changer!For the first time in all these appointments, I met a WOMAN gynaecologist. Not that I’m sexist in anyway but I felt like someone finally understood me and the difference was phenomenal.

The usual questions came, blah blah blah and then she began to ask me what tests I had done.

“A urinary flow?”

“Urine diary?”

“A smear?”

“An internal examination? You must of?”

“A cystoscopy?”

To all of these questions it was a no.

I hadn’t heard of half of them before? I was “too young” to have a smear and nope, no one had give me an external before?

She was in utter shock. She said after around 3/4 years of all of this happening she was surprised my GP hadn’t give me an internal examination before never mind one of the consultants at the hospitals.

She booked me in for the urinary flow tests and explained she wanted me to keep a urine diary at home, measuring how much wee I had by pissing into a measuring jug every time I peed😩 I had to bring this little diary with me to the next urinary flow appointment

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

INTERNAL EXAMINATION

After she booked all of this on the screen, she asked if she could do an internal examination now! She was so shocked that no one not even my GP had done it before or the fact, this could’ve been the cause of it all. She asked for consent and ushered a chaperone into the room as I was on my own.

I’ve got to the point where I would literally let them try anything, obviously I felt nervous but she explained everything she was going to do and over to the bed it was🥴

I took off my pants, laid down and first she cleaned all her instruments and lubed them all up😑 I took a deep breath and as she turned round from her table of utensils, the contraption appeared. I thought it was absolutely huge and never going to go anywhere near me🖐🏼

She used what’s known as a speculum, basically a plastic duck bill shaped instrument that goes in and widens the vagina, so they can examine it properly.

She told me to breath and relax during this. Well no way could I do that! It literally took my breath away, it was quite tight and uncomfortable but didn’t last well long. I’m actually not too sure if she took a smear swab or not? But generally this is the same procedure as a smear test. She took that out after a minute or so and said the manual exam was next🥴 She lubed her gloves and then used her fingers to examine inside. This wasn’t as uncomfortable but still a random woman feeling around should we say. She did this to check for any obvious masses or cysts, abnormalities in the vaginal wall or damage to my cervix.

Whilst she was still there, she decided to tell me, I was making it slightly difficult because I’ve got such good pelvic floor muscles. Suppose there is a bonus out of all this🤷🏻‍♀️

Once she was all done, (she never noticed anything malicious) she told me to clean myself up and come back to chat. I wanted to just lie there for a second, to just gather my thoughts after that event hahaha. They also gave me a pack of wipes/tissues to clean myself after the KY jelly used practically gets everything😷

She then began to discuss the other tests she wanted me to try. She was convinced - and this was the first time a doctor has mentioned it to ME, is that she thought I have Interstitial Cystitis (IC)/ Chronic Painful Bladder Syndrome.

She explained a cystoscopy (a small camera into the bladder via my urethra) was the only way to diagnose this and believed this was the best next step, even though it’s very unpleasant, it must be done.

When I’d brought up IC to other doctors/consultants, they would always try and avoid the situation, acting as if I act like a hypochondriac. I literally visit the doctor with a new theory every time to try and guide their investigations because before this point nothing got done🤦🏻‍♀️ I was fed up. I do research like hell, that’s what I do at uni, how I revise, if need to do the whole outside subject before understanding one concept so of course I’m going to do that with my body as well.

I signed a few consent forms, read all the information packages she had gave me and she actually wished me good luck before I left the room✨ There was some hope after this appointment. I hadn’t cried like the others, I walked out with a smile on my face, weird when you’ve just had a stranger and several instruments too close for comfort🙈🤣 ...and it was a step in the right direction.🙌🏼

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

URINARY FLOW

Around 2 weeks after the amazing appointment with the urogynaecologist, it was time for urinary flow or uroflowmetry I believe it’s called.

So this appointment was a funny one. I turned up to the department with no information at all🤦🏻‍♀️ but I brought my urine diary woooo! I always bring water as well because usually I have to do a fresh sample for the doctor or it involves an ultrasound etc. So I basically had to fill my bladder and sit on a ‘special’ toilet which recorded flow, amount, time all those sorts of things and then get a ultrasound after to see if my bladder emptied.

So I drank a bottle of water, went to the toilet and it was not enough for a good reading😫 the nurse told me to go back and drink another bottle before coming back. So the waiting room it was for almost 30/45 minutes.

In this time I met a lovely lady, who basically told me her life story😂 typical day out in Liverpool. She politely asked me what I was here for, mid conversation and of course makes the waiting room atmosphere a bit less boring. I explained everything and she explained hers, telling me she has had ‘the botox’ several times. So I immediately thought in her face where else?🤷🏻‍♀️

Well she meant in her bladder! With overactive bladders, if the typical ‘bladder training’ techniques don’t work, (basically trying to hold off going the toilet so it’s not every 20 minutes, reduce caffeinated drinks, try to reduce getting up in the night etc), Botox in the bladder is the next option!

It basically tightens up the bladder wall muscles to prevent incontinence and reduce the amount of times you have to go! Well I was baffled never heard that this existed!

After the delightful conversation, it was time to try again, back on the special toilet, beep beep beep, the reading on the paper flies out the back, the nurse removes my wee out the bucket - lovely job🤢 and I go straight into the ultrasound room to get checked.

All my results looked normal, only 30ml of wee left in the bladder, which I thought was weird, I expected it to empty out completely but apparently this is within normal levels.

They did this to check if wee was being left in the bladder or in a ‘kink’/dip in the urethra. This would then be a site for bacteria to grow here, causing the infections. However, this was not the case.

My flow and bladder were all good. So I waited for the next test and this was the cystoscopy. The moral of this story is that one doctor can make all of the difference. If I hadn’t of seen her, maybe my diagnosis would be further from what it is now who knows?...

[asclepyus]

So after actually completing the entire main story for Extella Link, here’s my revised thoughts on the storyline without spoiling too much (I meant to post this last night but I fell asleep whoops):

It took me about 14 hours to get through every single stage, and there’s 3 different routes, one of which doesn’t unlock until you finish the first 2. I didn’t really realize how much the story diverges and adds to the plot based on your choices and going back to missed stages, which is why I was so disappointed and unfulfilled after playing through my first route by itself

I feel a lot better about the story after actually completing all 3 routes and every single stage. It felt so much more well rounded than just playing through a single storyline. Spending the time backtracking to stages you missed is well worth the effort, and you get to spend time with different servants through the same battlefield.

Even after everything was said and done, I never really grew to sympathize or even especially like the main antagonist? I won’t spoil his identity for those who aren’t aware of it but his arc still fell pretty flat for me even in the 3rd route which was centered more around him.

The story is very, very centered around Charlemagne, which I appreciate considering he’s the new addition to the world in this game. He’s extremely likeable, and he definitely grows on you really fast. Nero and Tamamo are still constantly present through the game, but the attention is always on Charlemagne.

The Karna vs. Arjuna fight was really nicely executed, everyone knew it was coming and they managed to make it flow really well with the main story. It was every bit as intense as I was hoping too, which was great.

There was a good amount of Charlemagne and Astolfo interactions for those who were worried, and I loved every second of it. They’re dumb and I would die for both of them.

The further integration of Hakuno into the story and the battlefield added so, so much to the game and I’m so glad the developers went the direction they did. And then playing as Hakuno in the base camp area and being able to kinda interact with your servants is so nice.

My one complaint is that there wasn’t a ton of Altera screentime, even during the 3rd route which is supposed to focus more on her, because she’s the main thing everyone’s been looking forward to coming back to. She definitely has her place in the story, but we get to spend little to no time with her directly which was kind of upsetting.

[danvssomethingorother]

Mirrorverse!AU where Rusty and Brock became villains not long after college and never went the Protagonist route. (Because honestly the first Brock thought I had over that S7 finale was Mirror!Villain!Brock along with Rusty being the Supervillain that Killinger believes he should have been.)

I had to finally make myself tap off on this one. I was making it too long. I hope you enjoy!  

A03

—

“Are you coming with me?”

Rusty didn’t answer him,taking a few quick puffs from his bong before setting it aside, he didn’t lookat the large blonde man instead keeping his eyes on his text book. If he lefthis thesis meant nothing, if he stayed it meant everything. He opened thescience book his father himself had written and just stared at the man whocontrolled so much of his life smiling brightly back at him from theintroduction page.  

Large fingers coveredover that smile as Brock forced the book down forcing Rusty to look at him.

“Babe, I can’t do thiswithout you.”

Rusty stared him in theeyes and finally sighed shrugging.

“Is that a yes?”  

Rusty didn’t answer, hejust leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against Brock’s lips and thelarger man smirked pressing him against the mattress and deepening the kiss.

—

Rusty had been in many,many, many uncomfortable situations in his life, but there was just somethingthat struck a primal fear seeing someone he loved and trusted so much loomingover him like this. Pinning him gently but firmly against the mattress with histhighs pinned tight against his sides and a pair of plyers in his hands.  

“Just breathe Rust,”Brock sighed out just as nervous himself glancing at the plyers in his hand,“I’m just gonna yank it out and then we can leave.”

“This is easy for you tosay,” Rusty sneered back at him breathing picking up just staring at theplyers, “No one is using plyers to yank your damn teeth out!”

“One, just the one damntooth,” Brock sneered back correcting him.

“Do you know which one??”

“Second molar on the topof the right side of your mouth,” Brock grumbled back rolling his eyes notliking that Rusty wasn’t trusting him to yank his tooth out.

“Stop, time out,” Rustymoaned loudly shoving at his boyfriend, “Get the fuck off me.”

Brock growled at him butcomplied to his request allowing his boyfriend to get up from the bed and beginpacing in a circle around the bed, taking deep breaths and wringing his fingerstrying to calm his nerves.

“That’s half a bottle ofjack still in the fridge,” Brock said to him but Rusty was barely listeningcontinuing to pace, “You can drink some of that before I yank it out.”

“I don’t want thosethings in my mouth,” Rusty finally mumbled taking a quick glance at the plyersbefore looking away, “Just punch me really hard.”

“Babe, I’m not punchingyou in the face,” Brock snickered but sobered watching Rusty begin his paceonce more.  

“I don’t want thosethings in my mouth!” Rusty whined dangerously close to breaking down, theplyers were upsetting him, Brock could tell but he didn’t know what else hewanted him to do. They needed to yank the tracking device out, if they didn’t,well they would just be caught by Team Venture before they got out of thestate.  

“How do you suggest weget the tooth out then?”

“I suggested you punch mein the face, but you don’t seem to want to do that,” Rusty grumbled outstopping in his tracks and taking uneven breaths before opening the mini fridgeand taking the bottle of jack out, carefully swishing the content with a flickof his wrist measuring how much there was.

“And what? Lose more thenone tooth? Babe, come on, stop being a freaking cry baby and let me do this.”

“You need me, mister,”Rusty sneered his way, “Without me, you get nothing and will have to do whatyour mom wants you to do and join the OSI’s crusade. We do this shit my way oryou can just go get killed by a weirdo in a Snake costume.”

“Fine, I’ll go join OSIand you can just go back to your dad and be alone,” Brock sneered back andRusty just glared hard at him before turning towards the window. His heart ratewas already high, but it seemed to sky rocket at the idea of Brock leaving himand being gone forever.

“I’m gonna chug thisentire bottle,” Rusty finally began taking a deep breath staring down at thebottle in his shaking hands, “And you are going to grab me, pin me to the bedand just yank it out. Don’t give me time to relax, just do it.”

Brock shrugged at theidea, it wasn’t the worst thing ever and they were already behind schedule.Might as well just yank that band aid off.

Brock watched hisboyfriend tip the bottle against his lips and knew he didn’t have that muchtime before that bottle would be empty. He prepared himself quickly, taking theplyers in his hands and straightening himself up ready to pounce the man thesecond he finished.

Rusty stood there amoment, tense waiting to be yanked back and man handled but was given a momentto take a breath, dropping the bottle on the ground in a pile of laundry thatstill needed to be packed and put all his focus on a nest of baby birds thathad made a home on their window sill. He began to wonder what it was like tohave a family that loved and cherished you watching the mother bird nuzzle herhead against her newly hatched chick when he felt his boyfriend grab his waistand toss him onto the mattress.

He bounced against themattress, disoriented from the liquor but had no time to get himself togetheras his very large boyfriend forced his weight on him temporarily taking hisbreath and making him moan out his protests, changing his mind all at once asBrock’s large fingers pried his mouth open and the glint of metal caught hiseye.

He gurgled out protests,but Brock just forced his mouth open more, easily holding it open uncomfortablywide.  

His arms were pinnedagainst his side under his boyfriend’s weight and it was impossible to move, hecould do little more then let Brock do what he wanted.  

He didn’t even feel thetooth get yanked out, his panic overriding all his other emotions. He gentlyfelt his boyfriend pulling him up and resting him against his chest as hesobbed, wrapping his now freed arms around his chest. He heard Brock tellinghim something, but the words were fuzzy and he couldn’t really understand them.

He felt him kiss him onthe head a few times before laying him back down, gently pulling his mouth openagain, making his heart race increase again as he shoved something smooth andfuzzy where his tooth had been before gently kissing him on the forehead.

When he regainedconsciousness later, he was reclined in the passenger side of Brock’s car, thestrong smell of cigarettes making him nauseous.

He curled himself tightagainst the door, not ready to face his boyfriend after the childish way he hadreacted to something they had agreed needed to be done.

Brock didn’t say anythingto him, gently resting his hand on his head, messing with his messy ponytail aminute before putting his attention back on the road.

He pulled himself upenough to rest his head against the window and see they were leaving Coloradobehind them.

There was no turning backnow.

—

Rusty hadn’t realized howtruly sheltered he had always been until he was really out of the world hisfather had made.

They had been stayingwith Brock’s younger brother who had recently been trying to break into theunderground technology game, selling tech to wannabe heroes and arches alikebut well the problem was Brock’s brother Charlie was an idiot. He was a giantjock more suited for ripping men’s throats out then making complex machinerybut he thought he had a chance in this game after he taped a knife to a vacuum cleanerand his stoner friend had somehow weaponized that and went three rounds againsta seasoned pro hero.

It ended tragically ofcourse, his friend still in the hospital likely not going to make much longerbut Charlie considered it a victory. When he heard his brother was messingaround with a Venture, he thought he would change both of their lives.

So far, he had onlychanged Rusty’s life.

No longer did he have hisfather’s money or robots to do basic house work for him or any of the materialthings he had realized he took for granted when he was a pawn in father’s game.

Rusty now had to cook andclean while the Samsons worked during the day, Rusty now had to do withoutwhatever took his fancy and Rusty had to actually see a project through. Theyhad a dead line they needed to meet, Charlie somehow weaseled his way into an auctionand they now had to have something to present to it or they would be blacklisted before they had a chance to get their foot into the underground.

Rusty found himselfgrumbling every curse word he knew as he scrubbed hard at the kitchen floor, onhis hands and knees like a commoner trying to scrub the grime away tired ofwaking up to cockroaches and vermin.

On the counter his blue printswere still laid out, ready for revisions so he could start the first design butthat had to wait until he got the blood splatter off the ground. One of Charlie’s‘friends’ had bled out here last night and Rusty couldn’t stand the sight ofthe splatter anymore.  

The only thing that neverchanged in his life was the violence. It was just always going to be here. Onlythis time he had to clean up the blood that stained the floor.

He stopped, what was hedoing here?

One phone call and hecould go home. He could go back to school. He could have his nice things back,go back to drinking and doing drugs just cause he was bored.

He could go back to beingalone, being a porcelain doll, everyone just glued back together and stuck backup high on the shelf.  

He could go back to nothaving Brock here to hold him through the nightmares and make him feel safe andwanted.  

He could go back to justhaving the violence but no one to protect him from it and make sure no one everhurt him.

He grit his teeth andscrubbed harder before turning back to the design, he could do this. He didn’tneed his dad.

—-

“Is this a Mardi Grasmask?”

The Samsons were laughingat his choice in costume but he stood his ground, folding his arms firmly andglaring towards them.

“We are going to anauction with like super villains and heroes and shit, right?”

“Babe, I know you workedhard on these or whatever but come on,” Brock snickered picking up one of the handmade glittering masks before tossing it back on the table, “Our image is goingto be wrapped up in this. You want everyone to see us and think we are going tostart handing beads or some shit out?”

“What? Did you just wantto wear ski masks?” Rusty sneered at the brothers who just glared hard at him.

“I worked hard to get usthere! We are not—”

Rusty cut Charlie off,jabbing his finger straight into his large chest and saying loudly and firmly.

“This is my invention!You two will wear the suits and masks I made or you can present your own shit!”  

“Yeah that’s what Ithought, its either my way or you can pull out the Stab – You – Vac again foranother disastrous performance.”

“Just so we are clear here,the Stab – You – Vac almost took down Captain freaking Sunshine, what the hellcan your force field belt even do? Last I checked it barely worked.”

“It barely didanything! Your idiot friend just got lucky it was like midnight and Sunshine’s powerswere down and he had a big blunt object with a bunch of knives glued to it…”

“And if you don’tremember, once Sunshine’s friends showed up, your idiot friend got such an ass kicking,he is a vegetable now!”

Charlie snarled loudlygrabbing Rusty by his shirt and slamming him against the counter. He lookedready to kill Rusty and well, Rusty wasn’t in that much of a position to stophim if he wanted to.

He tensed but he didn’tdrop his glare, if he was going to die he wasn’t going out crying that was for sure.

Brock however didn’t seemto care Charlie was blood and had already made up his mind no one was allowedto touch Rusty.

He punched his brotherout with one hit, knocking him to the floor and pulling Rusty behind him whenhis brother gave him a murderous look after touching his broken nose.

“Get the fuck out!”Charlie snarled.

Brock didn’t say anything,he just grabbed Rusty firmly and pulled him out the door with him. Brock hadalready shoved Rusty into the car as his brother came out still screamingthreats tossing their belongings out with him, promising they weren’t getting intothe auction tomorrow night.  

Rusty sucked in a nervousbreath as he watched Brock shove his brother back into the small run downtrailer, Charlie still yelling but Brock still not saying a word.

Rusty gave a nervous waveto the drug dealer next door he sometimes bought pot from and he just as nervouslywaved back.

This had not been thefirst fight like this, Charlie could get violent when he wanted to, put two ofhis former girlfriends in the hospital and Brock had made it clear when theymoved in he wasn’t allowed to touch Rusty. And well, he finally broke that ruletonight because of Rusty’s mouth, so it looked like they no longer had a placeto live.

He watched a young womanwho worked in the strip club off the freeway look nervously towards the Samsonresidence before running into her own trailer, slamming and locking the doorbehind her.

Brock came back out a fewmoments later shoving some stuff in the trunk, the few things to their name fitneatly into one medium sized box, what a world Rusty had entered into.

Brock got in the driverside a few moments later lighting up a cigarette. He didn’t look like he wantedto talk, so Rusty said nothing letting him crank up the radio full blast anddrive around for a few hours to calm down.

“We aren’t doing thiswith Charlie anymore,” he finally said.

“Can we still get in theauction without his connection?” Rusty mumbled not making eye contact with hisboyfriend.

“Yeah Charlie agreed togive me his contact finally, we can do this on our own.”

“Babe?”  

Rusty glanced over atBrock looking more vulnerable then he had ever seen him, gripping the steeringwheel hard enough to break it, just staring off at the cars driving past themfrom the truck stop he had pulled off into.

“Yeah?”

“Do you regret coming outhere with me?”

“I don’t know yet,” Rustyfinally admitted putting his hand on Brock’s, “The sex is great as always buthaven’t been a fan of the poverty.”

Rusty was feeling bold hesupposed as he crawled on top of Brock and began kissing him. A little car sexwas just always the thing to get their mind off stress.

—

Rusty sat nervously infront of the dressing room mirror, brushing his hair and just glancing at the poorlymade unicorn mask he had made himself. His white tux was the only thing thatwas clean about him, he hadn’t properly bathed in three days since they had takento living in Brock’s car.

Brock stood by the door,knife in one hand and his dragon mask clenched between his fingers.

It was really happening,they were about to go up on a stage and try to sell one of his inventions tothe highest bidder.

Rusty was so nervous hewas sure that if they had been able to eat today he would be throwing up rightnow.  

The knock at the doormade him jump, he glanced back at Brock then towards the clock, it wasn’t timeyet.

“Let them in Brock,” hesaid somehow keeping his words steady.  

A man who looked strikinglysimilar to David Bowie stepped through the door making Rusty jump from hisseat.

“Its alright, I shall notslay your unicorn nor do I seek to put him in captivity,” the man chuckled atBrock who had his large knife against his throat. Rusty shook his head towardsBrock and Brock finally lowered his weapon allowing the man to fully enter theroom.

“When they told me RustyVenture was here, I didn’t believe them,” he said with a chuckle, “I had to seeit with my own eyes that our boy had grown up and was up to no good.”

He stepped towards Rustyand gently cupped his cheeks titling his head a little to get a better look athim before smiling and stepping away.

“Who the hell are you?” Rustyhissed at him putting some distance between them and catching from thereflection in the mirror Brock was stepping closer to them, “I sure as helldidn’t tell anyone my real name.”

“Do you think no onewould know?” the man’s smirk only grew at the pure terror that was stretchingacross Rusty’s face, “No one would come to seek your father’s bounty? No onewould come to see the prodigal son try to step into villainy? A dollar storemask doesn’t cover up who you are.”

“Your boyfriend’s brotherwas running his mouth that he had a Venture doing his dirty work.”

Brock glanced awayrubbing the side of his head showing he knew his brother had done that.

“I came with an offer, Ihad to have you once I knew what you were up to.”

Rusty opened his mouth,an insult already at the tip of his tongue but the man shook his head, raisinghis hand to silence him and Rusty was surprised that was all it took to keephim from starting. Maybe it was his nerves.

“I want to only help youRusty, I want to make you a star, reinvent your image.”

He made a face runninghis fingers through his greasy hair and shaking his head, gently taking his armand stretching it out, shaking his head once more seeing how loosely the suitfit him. Rusty yanked away glaring hard, not liking the way he was being scrutinized.

“Who are you?” Rusty repeatedmore firmly.

“Sorry, awfully rude ofme,” the man said with a shake of the head and a chuckle, “You see Rusty, youand I aren’t strangers. You just don’t quite remember me, do you?”

“You kidnap me in thepast?”

“Not my style,” he said witha shake of his head, “You and I met when you were a scared little boy who didn’tthink this world was fair. I passed Rusty’s Law just for you, but your fatherhad to ruin it throwing out many of the clauses that would make it illegal toput a child in this line of work at all.”

Rusty was so pale now hewas almost transparent, gently backing until he hit Brock who pulled him closeto him, sending a threatening look the man’s way.

“I want you to join theGuild, Rust. I want to help you. Protect you from the people out there tonightwho just want to hurt you.”

He pulled a business cardfrom his pocket and placed it in Rusty’s hand, gently forcing his stiff fingersto hold on to it.

“Come to us when you areready, Thaddeus. Don’t waste your potential on the garbage here tonight.”

He gave them a smile andthanked them for their time before sauntering back out the way he came.

—

Rusty didn’t stick aroundto sell his invention that night, he caught up with the mysterious man and he andBrock left with him that night to join the Guild.