#u shaped bolt puzzle

[sturniololoco]

ADHD

Note: NO Y/N This is just a cute little fluff moment between the Sturniolo brothers and I am not sexualizing this in any way. they are freaking brothers enjoy!

Warnings: overstimulation, panic attack, etc.

Summary: Chris has ADHD and this goes downhill, but his brothers are there to help him.

Nick's POV

My brother Chris has always been very affectionate. He always loves to be around people and today was no different.

We woke up early, Chris slept in my bed last night, and went downstairs. We watched a show and he sat quietly holding my hand for about half the movie, and then he started to get fidgety. Chris started to play with my fingers and move his feet around, not even paying attention to the show.

"Chris, are you all done watching TV?" I asked him, grabbing his hands to get his attention focused on me. He looked at me, only just realizing that he had not been paying attention.

He looked down embarrassed.

"Hey, that's ok. Do you wanna go help me make some breakfast?" I asked him, rubbing my thumb over his hand, back and forth.

-

It took Chris around 30 minutes to complete his breakfast. Mainly because he would explain the different shapes of his toast after he took a single bite. Me and Matt, who woke up to the smell of breakfast, just laughed along with him, letting him take his time.

After breakfast, I did the dishes while Chris lay on the couch, snugged up close to Matt with a blanket, and scrolled on his phone.

So like I said before, my brother is very affectionate, loving, and calm even with his ADHD disorder.

only tonight was different. we went out to dinner and Chris did not like it at all.

Chris's POV

The restaurant was loud. too loud. Many adults were sipping at their drinks, yelling and cackling over each other. There were also children, screaming at their parents who were not paying attention.

Our waiter showed us to our table and brought us our menus. He also brought one of those kiddie menus that come with the three-pack of crayons. The menus with puzzles, coloring, and tic-tac-toe boards.

Trying to get my mind off the noise, I began to color the paper using the cheap crayons from the packaging.

Then all of a sudden, I felt it.

The crayon felt gross, almost sticky, and grainy in my hand. My clothes felt too close to my body, scratching me. suffocating me. And the noise. the horrible, torturing noise, that just kept getting louder and louder, surrounding me. drowning me.

My breathing became shallow, and I was suddenly drenched in a cold sweat. My mind started racing, not being able to process all of these new things at once.

Sensing my unease, Nick grabbed my clammy hand under the table, giving me a look of worry.

I instantly shoved his hand away, wiping my own on my pants, hating the feeling of the rough fabric of my jeans.

Get out. I have to get out.

"Hey Chris, what are you gonna get to eat bud?" Matt asked, not noticing my current state of hyperventilation.

"I u-um...u-hhh..." I studdered out, my brain not even working enough to form words.

Then I Bolted.

Matt's POV

I asked Chris what he wanted to eat, and he ran. Snatching up my keys from off the table on his way out.

"What the fuck-" I start to say, but Nick was quickly rising from the table to go find Chris, and I was right behind him.

We checked the bathrooms, and corner of the restaurant, just to make sure he actually went to the car, and he was nowhere to be seen. So we made our way to the parking lot, sprinting out of the place and down the road.

Chris's POV

I ran, ran, to the car, and somehow managed to get it unlocked. I tried to climb into the front seat, but the cold, sticky leathery seats were too much. I popped the trunk, climbed in, then closed me in. I was squatting so I didn't have to touch the car carpet floor.

my hands were clawing at my head, my eyes, my ears. Trying anything to get this horrible feeling to go away.

I ended up banging my head against the car walls.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Again! Again! Again!

Go. A. Way!

Then, all of a sudden, the trunk was being opened.

Nick's POV

Matt and I reached the car, making a horrible banging noise from the inside. We quickly ruled out that Chris was in the trunk, and opened the door.

Matt's immediate reaction is to hold his brother. soothe him. But Chris falls back onto his back and kicks at Matt, hands clawing at his face.

"NO!" He lets out in a sharp panicked breath. Tears were streaming down his face, and his eyes were red, puffy, and swollen.

Then I get an idea.

"Matt, go get the water bottle from the front seat and pour it on his hands while I grab his face," I order, beginning to panic myself. Matt is quick to complete his task.

The cold water on Chris's hands causes him to cringe and go still allowing me to hold both sides of his face and turn it to look at mine. He falters for a moment, his breathing uneven and harp.

"Shh, you alright. It's me, it's Nicky, okay? It's okay, your safe I promise." I whisper in his ear. With trembling hands, he reaches up and holds mine. Shaking.

"Chris, can I hold you?" I ask, not wanting to overstimulate even more after we just got him to calm down.

He looks into my eyes and studies me for a moment, then timidly nods his head. I slowly climb next to him in the back of the car, and he lays his head on my shoulder, hiding his red and tear-stained face in the crook of my neck. While he gets his breathing back to normal, I gently play with his hair, while Matt climbs in and rubs small circles around his back.

"You ready to go home?" I ask him once his breathing is somewhat back to normal.

Chris gives me a small nod, and Matt goes and starts the car. I help Chris in the backseat with me, where he almost immediately falls asleep from exhaustion.

-

when we get home, we don't even bother going up the stairs. We walk straight into Chris's room and lay him down. matt and I change quickly into a hoodie and lay on either side of our little brother, sleeping with him, in case he ever needs us.

We will always be there.

Note: I hope y'all liked it. I can do more of these stories w/o y/n if y'all like them, but I'm still down for whatever.

I also have the Sturniolo little sis fic coming tomorrow!

xoxo

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror & the Devil part 14

(fluff, hints of angst) MCxAesop Sharp

Morana's dreams have recently intensified again, becoming increasingly unsettling. She definitely preferred sleeping in the Room of Requirement over the dormitory, not wanting to startle anyone with sudden screams. Whenever Aesop encountered her, he worried seeing her tired eyes, talking to her when she fell asleep during his class. It was hard for her to talk about it; she didn't want to worry him.

Since encountering the Muggle-born witch, the diviner from Gymes Castle, she had been seeing strange images in her dreams, full of symbolism from cards: swords, wands, cups, coins... All of this intertwined with the figures of people she encountered during the day, creating a surreal mixture.

It's possible that her transformation into an Animagus was also starting to affect her more strongly... Her senses were sharpening, sometimes she felt like she understood what the animals she passed by in the castle courtyard were saying. It was a strange feeling, as if she were passing by a gramophone, which suddenly, upon starting, would utter a few words and then fall silent... In the future, she would probably understand much more and would have to get used to the new reality. She thought it would be a pleasant experience, but for now, all she heard from the mouths of animals were: "danger," "him," "murderer," "afraid," "coming"... It made her shudder at the mere thought.

Something was happening, some dormant emotions were slowly waking up inside her.

Aesop sat in his armchair in his classroom, as usual busy checking essays and with satisfaction marking "Troll" for some students. Ah, the holidays were approaching slowly, and hardly anyone was focusing on studying; everyone was gradually shifting into thinking about presents, group trips, and shaping snowmen resembling Professor Black... Speaking of Professor Black... He finally came to his senses, seeing the immense dissatisfaction among students who, for the second year, had to forget about Quidditch, and proposed an alternative in the form of a carnival ball, similar to the famous Yule Ball held during the Triwizard Tournaments. Well, Aesop was hoping for something like an internal tournament, planning some difficult puzzles for the students related to potions, but Matilda quickly dampened his enthusiasm.

"Dance?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "What's that supposed to give to the students? Dementors are hardly the best waltz partners..."

"Entertainment, Aesop, entertainment," Matilda replied without looking up from the papers she was writing. "It's such a difficult word, Slytherins might not know it," she added sarcastically, smiling cunningly.

Aesop shrugged and calmly finished his tea, placing the cup on Professor Weasley's desk.

"And yet, even now, I dance better than you," he stated, maintaining a stony expression, but the sly tone of his voice made Matilda suddenly stop her work and stare at him.

"Get up!" she ordered, getting up from her seat and quickly walking from her office to the middle of the classroom, pointing with her bony finger to the spot in front of her where Aesop was supposed to stand. He smirked, smiling like a fox. Matilda, with a swift wand movement, started the music on the gramophone and extended her hands. "Come on," her gaze urged, shooting lightning bolts at him. He bowed slightly and took the lead. He was surprisingly good at it; there was no sign of limping in his dance. He cleverly shifted his weight onto his healthy leg, compensating with finesse in his movements with his partner.

Soon, they both stopped treating this moment as a challenge. They became neighbors again, best friends who had known each other for years and, due to the workload, had forgotten about it for a while, but now everything was recalled. They laughed, inventing increasingly funny moves, and when Matilda threw in, "I wonder how Professor Black dances?" they let their imagination run wild, imitating ducks, trolls, until finally, both, thanks to Matilda's transfiguration and Aesop's just-in-case-polyjuice potion hidden in his pocket, became Professor Black and danced with themselves.

"It's good to see you like this again," whispered Professor Weasley, after some time spent in her office in pleasant silence, sipping tea.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

She shrugged, smiling enigmatically.

"You smile more often without reason, you're calmer... You're not holed up in your room anymore... You go for chats with Sirona, you hang out with friends, you spend more time with us after classes... Something... Something has changed in you. Not so long ago, you were avoiding everyone, I saw how hard it was for you to spend time among people. And those nasty comments about you..." She sighed deeply and continued. "What I mean is, when I got that owl from Juno, saying that you were unconscious at St. Mungo's and it might be the last moment to say goodbye to you because the healers weren't giving you many chances... That you were simply dying... As soon as we stood, we flew to London with my husband, and when I saw you... Beaten up, wrapped in bandages with hundreds of tubes sticking out of you connected to creepy-looking devices, blood all over the floor, you weren't making any sounds, you weren't breathing..." Her trembling fingers tightened slightly on the cup she held in her hand. Deep down, Aesop was glad he didn't remember much from that time and didn't even want to imagine what Matilda might have seen. Poor thing... He felt so sorry that she had to go through that. "... Yes, then I understood that you are my 'little brother from Slytherin' and that I couldn't bear to lose you... Hmm..." She sniffed, and before Aesop could squeeze out any words of comfort, deeply moved by her words, she silenced him by raising her hand. "I know that over the years of work, I became cold... strict... distant... I don't blame Eleazar for asking for your help and hiding from me what happened before Miss Dimm arrived at Hogwarts... I felt horrible then, not that I failed as a teacher, but as... a friend... I want to fix that, Aesop."

Aesop smiled warmly and touched her arm.

"I promise you that when something bothers me, I won't hide it from you, Matilda... I need friends and I need to be a friend... I think you can finally be proud of me for 'growing up'."

Matilda chuckled.

"Not so fast, Aesop... but I have to admit that the company of our not-so-new-student is doing you good, indeed. You learn from each other, I think. You both... have so much compassion for one another."

"Hm? I doubt it, she's just... a student. I work with her, talk to her, but I don't get too close, you know me. There's no talk of friendship, she's just a colleague."

"Yes... Honor and ambition above all... Eleazar kept her too close, and you sometimes keep your distance too much..."

"Eleazar could be her father... I... I'm not saying I'm young, but many women her age marry people my age... I don't want anyone to misinterpret anything, accuse me of seeing her hmmm... differently. And on top of that, she's my student. I'm afraid of that, Matilda. I'm afraid of more rumors about me... Ugh... Not only do they see me as a coward who abandoned a dying friend and fled instead of finishing the mission and dying with dignity, they would also say that I'm some kind of womanizer, that the school is not safe for young women because of me... Matilda, I absolutely cannot allow that."

Matilda nodded, understanding him. The world of rumors was cruel.

"I remember that strange feeling when Mirabel joined the teaching staff... We were constantly told not to be friends with her, and then it was even demanded of us."

"Ugh, 'Mirabel' barely crossed my lips back then," snorted Aesop, which made Matilda laugh. "It literally hurt my brain not to say 'Miss Garlick'"

"Mine too, but she was always petite and very childish. Morana is a grown woman, I sometimes accidentally call her by her name when I'm angry, and in a way... It's a strange feeling when I have to treat her like a student..." She rolled her eyes, Aesop pursed his lips, avoiding her gaze. Well, he also sometimes didn't use her surname. Most of the time. Well, he only called her by her name. "The castle will be empty without her when she goes to Durmstrang..."

"She'll manage," he shrugged, but his voice trembled slightly, betraying his emotions, yet seeing Matilda's inquiring gaze, he quickly changed the subject to Gareth's latest antics.

Aesop smiled at the thought of the pleasant evening spent with his friend, but at the mere recollection of the last few sentences he exchanged with Matilda regarding Morana, he felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach.

Mrs. Weasley made him realize that... he got a bit lost. Well, quite lost, actually.

He set aside his work and stretched in his chair, deeply pondering, organizing the thoughts that were flying around in his head in disarray.

Who was this young woman to him? For some time now, he had been postponing the answer to that question. A friend like Matilda? Impossible. From the very beginning, he promised himself that she wouldn't be, and he intended to keep his word... Yet, he felt joy at even the slightest thought of meeting her and spending time in her company... Time that he devoted to her a lot. In fact, he was at her beck and call. The closeness that allowed him to tell her more than Matilda... because he knew that Morana would understand him better. He trusted her more. Entirely.

Suddenly, through the slightly ajar door, a charmed piece of paper flew into the classroom and landed on Sharp's desk right in front of him. His heart beat faster, and it felt lighter when he saw a few enigmatic words scribbled by Morana.

"3.15 PM. Transfiguration Courtyard. Oak. Wait. Please."

What was this devil up to this time?

Aesop threw aside all his work, and in a few moments, limping as fast as he could, he found himself in the courtyard. He looked around, searching for Morana, then glanced at his pocket watch. He still had a moment. He leaned against the oak tree, waiting impatiently for the woman to arrive. It had to be something important and... exciting. A journey? An adventure? An artifact? It didn't matter. He just wanted to see her blue delighted eyes.

Time dragged mercilessly. He quietly whispered the words he had to learn for the next Slovak lesson, trying to occupy his mind with them. He watched the students spending time outdoors before the first snowstorms came. They cast simple spells, played gobstones (one of them sprayed with stinking liquid made Aesop smirk, he never liked that student)...

Just a few more minutes.

Aesop took sunflower seeds out of his pocket, and in that moment, several hungry ravens swooped down from the oak to the ground, pleadingly staring at him.

"Ugh..." he rolled his eyes, tossing them his sunflower seeds, watching them quickly devour the treat. One of the birds missed catching anything with its beak, which amused Aesop. "Poor, clumsy thing," he thought, stifling a laugh. The animal looked around helplessly, while its companions had long flown away with full stomachs. Aesop took out a sandwich from his pocket, which he had prepared earlier for Morana, and decided that, as usual, hungry as she was, she wouldn't notice the missing piece of bread. He tore it off and held it out on his palm and froze in place, not wanting to startle the bird, which immediately bounced off the ground and perched on his hand. Sharp was surprised by how large and heavy the bird was. He hadn't had the chance to see a raven from such close proximity before. Shiny black feathers, a sharp beak, blue eyes, and... well... something that looked like a scar on its left cheek.

"Hello," said the raven, surprising Aesop. He had forgotten how well they could mimic sounds. "Hello, hello, hello," the animal repeated, climbing higher on Sharp's arm, pecking at the sandwich he held in his other hand.

"Fucking hell...," he muttered, staring at the creature. "Morana?"

"CROAK! Hello," the bird cried out and began to joyfully fly around him, grabbing his hair and pinching his cheeks, which made him giggle.

"Quiet, bird!" he whispered.

"BIRD! Bird. Bird! Hello!" Morana shouted and began to repeat in a circle.

"Silly bird," Aesop smiled cunningly, wanting her to repeat it.

"Silly..." The bird fell silent for a moment, thinking intensively, and then blurted out, "SILLY AESOP! Silly Aesop. Silly Aesop!"

"Shhh... Stop, stop, quiet." Aesop paled, regretting that he tried to trick Morana, trying to silence her, but she deftly evaded him, screaming louder and louder, "SILLY AESOP,SILLY AESOP, SILLY AESOP!!!!," attracting the attention of the students around. The sight of a laughing, stern professor rolling on the ground with a bird running away from him screaming "Silly Aesop" was not common. Finally, Aesop managed to grab her and hide her under his coat. He glanced at anyone who dared to look at him, then hurried towards the arches, squirming when the bird's claws tickled him. Carefully, he laid Morana on the ground, away from curious glances, and gently smoothed her ruffled feathers with his hand.

"I don't know how to hold wild birds, I hope I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked tenderly.

"Hello, silly Aesop, bird, silly bird, Hello. Croak! CROAK!"

"Mhm," he muttered, suppressing a laugh, realizing it was the end of Morana's animagus vocabulary. "Fascinating. Can you change back?"

"CROAK!" Morana tugged at his sleeve and trotted along the ground, leading Aesop to the entrance of one of the less frequented corridors. She pecked at it with her beak. The man opened the door, and the crow immediately slipped inside and hid behind the stairs. Before Aesop could approach, he heard Morana's timid voice.

"St-stay where you are... I'm naked..."

"Oh," he immediately turned around, closing his eyes, and quickly took off his coat, which he held out in front of him. "I'm not looking, cover yourself, it's cold."

"Thank you, you can open your eyes now. It will take me a while to learn to change completely... For now I don't have even wand."

Morana, charmingly wrapped in his clothing, stood before him, smiling broadly, but then the corners of her lips slightly drooped, and tiredness appeared on her face.

"I need to sit down, a bit... I don't feel well..."

Aesop immediately became alert and in a second was by her side, supporting her as she sank onto the stairs. He crouched close to her, looking into her eyes with concern, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Hm... The animagus transformation shouldn't have any side effects..."

"No... it's not that..." Morana chuckled, but almost immediately groaned in pain and doubled over. "When I'm a bird It doesn't hurt this much..."

"Hurt? Did you hurt yourself?" Aesop immediately reached for a Wiggenweld potion, but Morana stopped his hand.

"I tried, but apparently, as you once said it can heal some injuries but not all..."

"Hmm... Period?" he asked softly and gently. She nodded. "Hmm... Is it always this painful?"

"Well... I don't see anyone during that time, just lie down and die in solitude with my brave companion, a warm compress."

"Silly Bird, tsk tsk tsk" Aesop shook his head tutting with disaproval, and in his eyes gleamed a caring, cheerful spark. "I'll brew something stronger and leave it for everyone having period in the classroom, since you're too embarrassed to tell me about it. Come on." He helped her up and disapparated them both straight to his classroom.

Morana, wrapped up like a pancake in a familiar-smelling coat, settled on one of the stools and watched as Aesop quickly lit the fire under the cauldron with a swift flick of his wand and summoned one of the books. He quickly flipped through the pages and found the appropriate recipe. The book hung in the air in front of him as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing densely hairy forearms marked with old bite-like-scars, and shuffled over to the cauldron.

"This will be my first time brewing it; there hasn't been an opportunity before... Usually parents show their daughters how to weigh this potion, but sometimes children come from Muggle families, then Mrs. Weasley takes care of it, borrowing my classroom and giving a special lesson for anyone having period... Ugh, they make it a secret as if it's some taboo, but many wizards don't want such things as 'menstruation' mentioned to their kids, absurd..." Morana watched his gentle movements as he poured the appropriate mixtures and ingredients from the flying vials around him into the cauldron, muttering to himself about what to do next.

"Add just three drops, three drops and not one more, remember, yes, very good, Aesop," he occasionally spoke softly to himself.

"Adorable", she admitted to herself, snuggling into his clothes that smelled so pleasantly that she felt warm, cozy, and her eyes began to close on their own. Through half-closed lids, she saw a golden halo around him from the flames' a glow, highlighting his graceful figure; he turned around from time to time to check on her. All the sounds of the moving vials, his muttering, grunts, the rustle of his jacket with each movement, the slightest creaks of his leather boots... That melody lulled her to sleep.

"Don't fall asleep," Aesop murmured, smiling, looking at her askance, and assured her in a velvety tone. "It will stop hurting you soon, I promise. This is a very strong medicine, only used in emergencies; the dose is tiny, and it shouldn't be used more than once every five days because it's highly addictive. They apparently gave it to me at the beginning to toughen me up during surgeries, in any case, it was on the prescription. It's also used during difficult labor and for exceptionally nasty menstrual pains." He stepped away from the workstation, wiping his hands on a rag, tidying everything on the countertop. "Ready, it just needs to simmer for a few more minutes."

He picked up his "Daily Prophet" from his desk and sat next to Morana, pulling the stool as close to her as possible so she could lean on him. She rested her head on his shoulder, and her unruly hair strands tickled his cheek; the scent of wildflowers and beer malt's sweetness that brushed his nostrils immediately made him blush. He cleared his throat, focusing on the text.

"Hmm, interesting. Apparently, they found that couple who disappeared when the Thestrals were attacked..."

Morana immediately perked up.

"Auror Vincent Fromm, chief constable, assures that the large-scale investigation has been successful. The man and woman, missing for several months, victims of a very powerful charm, were convinced they were Muggles; their current whereabouts were difficult to find. The case of illegal extraction of magical resources from Thestral bodies, which Officer Whoever-Pays-More-I-Will-Work-For-It Singer had been dealing with from the very beginning (Sharp added, and Morana chuckled) has been dismissed, as there are no further leads for now, but goblins are suspected. Merlin, if I hadn't gone to our beloved Lady Officer and testified what happened, this pair would still be planting carrots somewhere in Timbuktu," Sharp grumbled. "Vincent, as usual, on a pedestal... Ugh, it shouldn't concern me, I'm retired."

Aesop stood up and shuffled over to the cauldron, extinguishing the fire beneath it and pouring its contents into dozens of tiny vials.

"I've modified the recipe; it won't taste like dead rat anymore because the aim isn't to make your misery even more pitiful..." He drank one of the vials to check if the potion was working. His leg stopped hurting completely after a few seconds. "Hm," he concluded satisfactorily with the effect and handed Morana a full vial.

"I doubt it was the goblins," she said after a while, feeling better. Aesop nodded.

"Someone has to be blamed for everything. Vincent has never liked goblins, and he genuinely hated them when he fell into their trap about two decades ago... I feel sorry for him, It was a nasty accident. Similar to what wizards did to Ranrok, this time goblins made him a slave for several years, a mascot... We had no idea what happened to him; he suddenly disappeared during one of the top secret missions, and there was no trace of him. The family was in mourning, his wife, everyone thought he was dead... It seems every Auror has some failure in their life, except his at least ended well; he was even hailed as a hero. Since then, woe to any goblin who falls into his hands."

Ranrok, Izydora... Morana shuddered at the mere mention and suddenly...

"Aesop!" she pulled him by the arm. "Izydora Morganach! Tell me, have you ever heard of her anywhere, ever?"

"Hmm, not really."

"She was one of Hogwarts' Best & Brightest!..."

"I'm not sure I follow..."

"Come!" Morana jumped up, but before Aesop could cover his eyes, afraid she would run somewhere completely naked (which wouldn't surprise him at all), she transformed into a crow and cawed, signaling him to follow.

Searching through the room full of trophies and badges wasn't easy. Morana read every label on the ceiling, all the badges extolling the achievements of students and professors, inaccessible to Aesop. Sharp, ignoring the golden cauldron of the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship adorned with the two crests, ex equo - Hogwarts and Durmstrang (which was his doing), dug out an old book listing professors starting from Godric and Salazar. He quickly flipped through the pages.

Nothing.

There was Rackham, there was Headmistress Fitzgeralt... Rookwood, Bakar...

Aesop began to understand what Morana was getting at.

The absence of Izydora confirmed the theory that had just formed in her mind. Morganach had been erased from memory. And her existence practically wiped from the face of the earth, existing only in local legends as "some teacher living near Feldcroft." Most likely, Parcival had done this using ancient magic.

Was there anyone besides Morana, Izydora, and Parcival who knew this type of magic and could have harmed Morana years ago?

"Have you considered paying a visit to the Keepers and asking for explanations?" he asked as she flew directly onto his shoulder. She shook her head. In a way, everything was already clear and somewhat logical. Only very strong magic could literally erase someone's existence. Besides, there was no certainty that they would tell the truth.

Aesop sneezed loudly from the excess dust in the room.

"Croak," said Morana.

"Thank you," he replied, wiping his nose with a tissue and pondering for a moment. "Hm... another piece of the puzzle... What do you say we find your clothes and maybe... think about it all on a walk while it's still a bit light outside and... grab something to eat along the way?" he asked shyly, stroking the feathers on her head. Morana let out a soft, contented "croak," feeling his fingers touch her. "Actually... I don't know if I'm more hungry or curious about what it's like to be a bird and fly... and how many bugs you've eaten along the way."

Morana squawked in outrage and pecked his cheek.

"Ouch," he laughed. "Silly Bird."

"SILLY AESOP!" she shouted for the whole school to hear. "SILLY AESOP! SILLY AESOP! Hello! Bird! SILLY AESOP! Hello!..."

End of part XIV, thanks for reading.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Eight

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: the beginning of the end :,) if u made it this far i think ur cool

***

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Lana asks.

Nesta closes her eyes, letting the picture swirl and take shape in her mind.

This time last year, she would have imagined nothing. Nothing but a desk in a busy law office, and maybe a nice apartment if she was lucky. That would be it. But now she sees…

“Somewhere with good food and good music,” she muses. “Maybe a sea breeze.” The sun-faded buildings of Portofino fade into the foreground of her imagination. “There are lots of people with me,” she hears the sound of children shrieking and Cassian’s rumbling laughter, “but it’s okay, because I love every one of them.” Her eyes open. “Is that a good answer?”

A near invisible smile tugs at the corners of Lana’s lips. “You tell me, Nesta. Do you like what you see?”

“It’s a little too cinematic if you ask me,” Nesta says nonchalantly, picking up her bag from the ground, “but I suppose all dreams are that way.”

“It’s a good dream,” Lana says. “A worthy dream, and one you deserve to chase.”

Nesta shrugs lightly, not too worried about the burden of the future for once. “Maybe I will.”

“In that case, congratulations on completing your final therapy session,” Lana says, setting her notebook aside. “You’ve made some amazing progress this year.”

Nesta gives her therapist her signature what’s-wrong-with-you look. “I’m going on vacation, not firing you for good. I’ll see you again in two months.”

“Two months can be enough to lose all your progress, if you forget everything you went through to get here.”

Nesta isn’t stupid. She knows that she isn’t suddenly desperate to make babies or be maid of honor at her sisters’ weddings or some bullshit. She knows that the image she just dreamed up, with Cassian and kids and her unburdened heart, is likely more than five years away. If it happens at all, it could be ten, even twenty years of hard work away.

She’s not nearly finished growing yet. “I’ll see you in two months, Lana,” she repeats.

Lana smiles at her fully this time. “Enjoy your summer, Nesta.”

***

The air is different in the Smokies.

Nesta rolls the truck windows down so she can inhale it, relish it. Wind whips her hair every which way as they drive down the winding freeway cutting through the lush mountains, and something about the look on her face makes Cassian chuckle and press down on the accelerator.

Nesta watches the red needle on the speedometer cross ninety, then one hundred. She can barely feel the June heat with how fast they’re going.

In the end, it was Feyre and Elain that reached out and invited her to the Tennessee summer home. Cassian had made it obvious that he wouldn’t push her to go if she didn’t want to, and at first she really didn’t want to. But Feyre had looked so hopeful when she asked Nesta to come with them, and even Elain had revealed a glimmer of eagerness that Nesta would say yes.

So against all odds, she agreed to go.

Exchanging one mountain home for another isn’t much of a getaway, but Nesta can’t help but be excited. Even with the unhappy memories of her childhood, she loves these hills more than any other.

The pure exhilaration of being back in Tennessee overcomes her at some point during the drive, knocking her out in the passenger seat where she sits. In her drowsy state, she distantly hears the windows being rolled up, before feeling Cassian’s hand guide her head to rest against the glass. The rest of the drive is warm and sunny, enough to lull her into a deep sleep.

The next thing Nesta’s aware of is the crunch of gravel and the feeling of the truck tires slowing to a stop. Fingers brush against her heated cheek, and then Cassian is murmuring at her to wake up.

Blinking her eyes open, Nesta twists around to see their destination.

For a moment, she thinks she’s still dreaming.

“Welcome to Holly House,” Cassian says with a grin. The house in question is quaint and sprawling at the same time, the way most upper class Southerners like their houses. The whole thing gleams with a fresh coat of white paint under the afternoon sun, complemented by a sky blue wraparound porch. Colonial style windows and proud columns decorating the facade of the building makes it look like the setting of a fairy tale.

Beyond it, Nesta can see cherry blossoms. Pink, fluttering cherry blossoms that fly off their branches and swirl through the air, some of them disappearing into the thick woods behind the house. Woods that Nesta has walked countless times before.

“The rest of the guys won’t get here until tomorrow afternoon,” Cassian is saying to her, “so we have the whole place to our—”

Nesta isn’t listening anymore. She unbuckles her seatbelt and shoves open the truck door, hobbling outside on unsteady feet to make sure she isn’t hallucinating things. But no, this is…

“Cherrywood,” she breathes, eyes wide in disbelief.

Cassian gets out of the truck, coming up beside Nesta to slip his hand into her shorts pocket. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“This is Rhysand’s summer home?” Nesta points at the house. “This place?”

Cassian looks around at the building grounds in confusion. “Has been for the last two decades, yeah.”

It’s been eleven years since she last stepped foot on these grounds.

With wonderment in her voice, she utters to Cassian, “I’ve been here before.”

At his puzzled look, she explains, “I lived just on the other side of those woods.” She points to the trees. “There’s an old cracked road that hasn’t been maintained since it was first paved, and you can follow it straight to the poor side of town. Whenever I wanted to get away, I would come down that road and trek through the woods, and I’d end up here. I stopped coming because…” she trails off.

Because she got caught that one time.

Cassian seems to realize it at the same moment as her. His hand slips out of her pocket. “You…”

Nesta remembers a tall boy with shocked eyes and shaggy hair, and she shakes her head slowly in forceful denial. It can’t be true. It’s too much of a coincidence.

But he points at her, then her feet. “You—with the size six Converse,” he sputters. “It was you.”

Before Nesta can confirm or deny it, he grabs her by the wrist and starts tugging her along, up the porch stairs and inside the house.

Even with Rhysand and Feyre’s renovations, it looks undeniably the same as all those years ago. The living room is to her right and the farmhouse style kitchen and dining area is to the left, though she speeds by it all as Cassian pulls her farther inside the house, to the closet beneath the curving stairs.

He lets go of her hand to search the small closet, muttering, “I know they were here somewhere.” But the closet looks like it was stripped empty for renovations, with only bolts in the walls indicating that shoe racks used to hang there.

Cassian turns and heads for the stairs, and Nesta blindly follows him. She also wants to go upstairs, wants to see if the bay window looking out onto the garden has stayed the same.

Like he read her mind, he leads her straight to the room she used to spend hours reading in. It’s smaller than all the other bedrooms in the house, but it’s always been her favorite because of the view.

As Cassian keeps looking for whatever it is he’s looking for, upturning boxes and checking beneath furniture, Nesta drifts toward the bay window. She looks from the cherry blossom trees outside, to the full-sized bed, to Cassian, and a weight drops even heavier in her gut. She has to reach out and grip the edge of the dresser for support.

Finally, Cassian pops out of the closet victorious. In his hand are a pair of ragged shoes that Nesta hasn’t worn in a long, long time.

He comes over and drops them with a thud at her feet.

“Whose room is this?” she asks with a rough voice, still staring down at the shoes.

“Mine,” he answers simply.

“Oh.” She met him before. She met him before.

When Nesta dares to look up and meet Cassian’s eyes, what she finds there nearly robs her of breath: wonder, astonishment, and unwavering fealty. He breaks into sudden wholehearted laughter, which dazes her even more.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

Cassian gets out between laughs, “What was it Rhysand said about Feyre? When they found out they were close to crossing paths when they were younger?”

Nesta’s earth-tilting shock slowly slips away, replaced by a stern look. “Don’t say it.”

He pretends to remember. “I think it was fate.” A wicked smirk pulls at his lips at Nesta’s resigned sigh. “But I have another word for it, too.”

“Don’t say that, either.” She pleadingly holds up her hands, only for Cassian to snatch one out of the air and intertwine his fingers with hers.

“Soulmate,” he says quietly, now less amused.

Nesta swallows thickly, not having any words for him. All she knows is that he is never going to let her live this down.

“Imagine if we’d gone to the same high school,” Cassian says to her later that afternoon as they lounge in his old room. “Fuck, I could’ve saved myself so much time with all those random girls.” They’ve been swapping childhood stories for the past hour, as if they might find more instances in their history of a red string tying them together.

Nesta doesn’t need coincidences or fateful run-ins to know that a string has always been wrapped around her ring finger, pulling her to Colorado and to that cabin. But for Cassian’s sake, she’ll gladly amuse him. “I would have been a freshman while you were a senior,” she says matter-of-factly. “It never could have happened.”

He hums in thought, head propped up in his hand, elbow propped up against the bay window seat. “Maybe if you were older. You would have been the smart, quiet girl, and I’d have been the player jock, and as soon as we locked eyes in math class, I’d be head over heels in love with you.”

Nesta cackles from where she sits in the window seat above him. “Now you’re just writing fanfiction.”

Cassian grins up at her but doesn’t send a rebuttal her way. The conversation falls into a lull, until Nesta has to reach out and ask, “What are you thinking?”

His smile turns a little sad. “That I wish we weren’t doing this right before I leave for another country.”

Right. That’s what’s been hanging over them the entire trip to Tennessee: that as soon as they get back to Colorado, Cassian is going to be on a plane to Milan.

Getting Keith O’Connell to quit—how exactly Cassian went about accomplishing it, he still won’t tell Nesta—left Rhysand at square one with his search for a team leader for his overseas venture.

When Cassian brought up the idea of taking the job to Nesta, he sounded like he hoped she would shoot him down, talk him out of it. He both wanted to go and was reluctant to leave, like his very soul was glued to his home and he didn’t want to unstick himself.

So Nesta, being his home, had to do the unsticking for him. She nearly accepted the year-long Milan position herself for Cassian’s sake, and it took weeks of coaxing and convincing to put him at ease about the whole thing.

“But we promised to go together for the first time,” he kept saying.

“We’ll still go together one day, and it’ll still be our first time there with each other,” she reassured him.

Eventually, he relented to her and Rhysand’s pressures with a single condition. “I’ll do six months. Not a year.”

Only Nesta knows deep down how much Cassian needs this opportunity. Though Cassian must know it a little bit too, because he wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t.

Nesta might have needed him in order to come out of her shell, but now he needs to get away from her in order to find his own shell. Something he can call his own, unburdened by his loyalties to the people he loves. So he can find who he wants to be for himself, without always being attached to her hip.

Rising to her feet, Nesta raises her arms in the air in a full body stretch. Her back and legs ache with being curled up in that window seat for so long without movement.

Dropping her arms, she holds out a hand to Cassian still sitting on the floor. “Come on,” she urges him. “Let’s go outside. I haven’t seen a Smoky sunset in years.”

“But it’s not evening yet,” he argues while taking her hand.

Outside, they explore the garden that leads into the woods while waiting for the sun to slink down the sky. Cherry blossoms ride the summer breeze wherever it takes them, resulting in Cassian sniffling and scratching at his neck as they walk hand in hand.

“Rhysand wanted to take these trees down and replace them with a flower garden for Elain,” he tells Nesta as they walk. His sinuses sound clogged, but he’s refused to go back inside until he’s explained every inch of the land to Nesta. “I convinced him not to because it would ruin the view from my bedroom window. Didn’t I make the right choice?” He throws a grin in her direction.

Nesta’s swallow is tight at that grin. “The view from your room was always my favorite part about the entire place. So yes, you did good.”

His eyes widen at that tidbit of information, and she can almost see him tucking it away as more Soulmate Evidence.

They stroll through the woods for a while, and Nesta points out the path she would take to get to Cherrywood—she still insists on calling it Cherrywood, even when Cassian argues that the house’s original name has been around since the sixties.

“Show me the rest of the way?” Cassian asks her, face lit up in boyish hope. “Show me where you ran away to that day I found you.”

Nesta almost expects the memory of the rundown apartment complex she grew up in to feel like being shoved into sludge: dirty, cold, and slimy. Instead, she finds she has no problem with looking back at her old home, no matter how many ugly memories she holds from there.

However, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the trees overhead has turned from yellow to dark gold, and she shakes her head in apology to Cassian. “Another day,” she promises him. “It’s almost sunset.”

They walk back to the house, rounding it until they reach the front. At the bottom of the hill that the house is perched on stands a pier that leads all the way out to the lake. Green mountains frame the lake from both sides, creating the perfect cradle for the sun to sink into.

They go all the way out to the edge of the pier, as if they’re trying to get as close to the sunset as physically possible. Dragonflies lazily swoop by as the lake is gradually painted in a hundred different colors.

Once there’s more darkness than light in the sky, Cassian nudges Nesta with one of the arms he has around her. “Look.” He points.

Along the shoreline of the lake, little dots of light have lit up to welcome the evening, their blinking glow so small that Nesta almost doesn’t catch it. Fireflies.

Nesta watches the insects flit in and out of the long grasses of the lake shore, getting tangled in the weeds and wildflowers. In that moment, she remembers something Cassian once confessed to her not long after his birthday.

I want to see more beautiful places with you.

Nesta ticks this beautiful place off the long list in her head—the first place out of many that she plans to see with Cassian.

More beautiful than the scene before her is the man in her arms. The man who was kind enough to understand a woman who barely understood herself, and to be her friend when she had none. The man who is extending his kindness right now by not having made any breaking-and-entering jokes about Nesta so far, though she’s sure he’ll pull them out eventually.

Discovering that she once found Cassian, just to let him slip by running away from him, only to find him again over a decade later—it comforts the tiny part of her that’s loath to say goodbye to him in two weeks.

Like Cassian is thinking the same thing, he murmurs into the dark, “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

Nesta huffs in amusement. “You haven’t even left yet.”

“I know.” After a moment, he adds in a low voice that not even the fireflies can hear, “Thank you for convincing me to go.”

She reaches up to squeeze his bicep. “Always.” And then she adds what she really wants him to hear: “Don’t come back until you find what you’re looking for.”

“I better find it quick then,” he jokes. Still, he nods in promise against the side of her head.

The only sound after that is the chirp of cicadas and the occasional lap of water meeting the pier beams. Nesta and Cassian stay outside in the June heat long after the sky turns ink blue.

***

a/n: next chapter is just some ic bullshit so take all ur bittersweet sentimentality here and go

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99 @mystic-bibliophile

[bettsfic]

march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

for more information on my creative coaching services, check out my carrd.

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.

[jasmine-iroh]

i have so many ideas in my head for fics LMAO and as u know i am obsessed w ur writing hehehe umm lets think can you do a sokka imagine where reader is Piandao’s apprentice as well so she spars with Sokka in his training and always wins, until he beats her one day from like being flirty and distracting her or something?? idk u can ignore this and just do any imagines u like LOL

Ahhhhh I love this idea so much!! Idk why but I have a headcanon that Piandao is lowkey like Batman and just trains abandoned kids and now he has like a tiny army of little white lotus warriors he’s informally adopted over the years.

This kid is weird.

That was the immediate impression (Y/N) got of Sokka when Master Piandao had introduced him as a new apprentice.

What the hell kind of name is Sokka, anyways?

That was her second thought. It was the kind of name that rolled off her tongue nicely when she was snapping at him to focus during their drills. The shape of it in her mouth made it easy to add a snarl to the front and a growl at the end when he was screwing around in front of Piandao, making them both look bad.

By the end of his first day training with (Y/N) under Piandao’s reserved tutliage, Sokka had been introduced to several intermediate forms. His heavy wooden practice sword had turned his arms to jelly long ago and there were various bruises and scrapes from (Y/N) sneaking past his defenses, but Sokka didn’t mind the aches.

She’s amazing.

That was Sokka’s first impression of (Y/N) as he watched her demonstrate the basic forms he was supposed to learn. He wasn’t focusing on the forms, but rather the warrior waltzing her way through them.

(Y/N) seemed to merge with her abilities. She moved with the ease of someone who spent her time befriending her skills, pouring her soul into singing metal and brutal dance numbers. Her blade was her master as much as Piandao was. She wielded her sentences as tactfully as her steel, every word intentional and aimed to cut to the heart of a matter.

Sokka would wager his last copper piece that her and Suki would get along quite well if they ever met.

He’s good.

That was (Y/N)’s third thought as she watched Sokka breeze through his basic drills.

A tiny part of her sung with pride when Master informed her that she was excelling in her duty of shaping Sokka into a proper swordsman. Sokka was her first real trainee during her time with Piandao. She’d studied under him from the age of six, when she’d turned up on his doorstep after being left behind in the middle of the night by her nomadic family.

She’d seen many hopeful young men turn up on that same doorstep, opening her sanctuary to their arrogant swaggers and second rate weaponry. They had all given her the same look when she guided them through Piandao’s home; a look that held the intrigue of having a girl around to preen for, not knowing that she was the judge, jury, and executioner of their fate.

Piandao might’ve been the one to teach the boys to fight, but (Y/N) was the one to make them honor the battle. They all came boasting to the Master about their accomplishments in their backwater town, lauding their own praises and embellishing their military bloodlines. Most left cursing the girl with forged steel for a personality and the word no sharpened like a blade.

Not Sokka, though.

(Y/N) supposed that maybe that’s what first warmed her up to him, the fact that he’d seen the sword on her belt first and her gender second. His quick wit and ability to bounce back after a defeat didn’t hurt, either.

Sokka’s knuckles were still red and actively bruising from their previous match when Piandao informed the pair that the next would be their last for the day. The compound was bathed in the golden promise of a sunset to come and (Y/N) found herself getting distracted by the way the light pressed gentle kisses to Sokka’s cheeks. The breeze played with his unraveling topknot like a teasing lover, taunting (Y/N) with the idea of what he’d look like with his hair down.

Before her thoughts could settle on the fight in front of her and not the boy, Sokka was making the first move. He went for the obvious strike, even though he should’ve learned by that point that (Y/N) would parry the blow.

Swinging her sword up to block him with ease, (Y/N) found herself shocked by their close proximity, puzzled that Sokka had thrown his first move to get close to her. A coy smirk was crawling along Sokka’s face as he gifted the young warrior with a flirtatious wink, causing her to narrow her own eyes back at him. It seemed that Sokka had seen her distraction and chose to wield his looks as his weapon of choice for this round.

“You can’t fluster me into losing, Sokka,” (Y/N) huffed, a mild bout of surprise bubbling as she realized that she was actually having to try to keep Sokka from getting the upper hand in their fight.

“That doesn’t seem fair, you’ve been flustering me all day.” He replied with a disarming grin, putting her on the defense with a quick, if somewhat unpracticed, set of attacks.

“Cut it out.” She growled, hoping the dark flush on her cheeks could be written off as exertion and not a real blush. Those oceanic eyes stared a hole into (Y/N), the flickering of his pupils to the side being the only consistent indication of his next move.

He was still too close for (Y/N) to ready a true offense, so she blocked and parried his attacks, his ever increasing proximity forcing her a step back with each move. She was trying to distance herself for an attack when the stone wall of the practice arena hit her back, shocking the wind out of her and allowing Sokka to land what would have been a fatal strike in a real fight. Their eyes were still locked as their chests heaved from the effort of the fight, bewildered (Y/E/C) eyes meeting a cunning blue gaze.

“Resourceful use of terrain, Sokka. (Y/N), don’t allow yourself to be crowded by a larger opponent. Use your agility, not your size.” Piandao advised, snapping the pair out of their staring contest. Sokka was still looming over (Y/N), but she wasn’t looking at him, instead forcing herself away from the wall to disappear into the bamboo thicket. She was being melodramatic, she knew, but she was ashamed that she’d let a stupidly charming boy make her look like a fool in front of her Master. The blow to her pride was blistering, raising all of her long buried insecurities to the surface.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sokka’s voice called from the bamboo to (Y/N)’s right. To hear that much concern in the voice of a boy who barely knew her showed his true character, but (Y/N) wished he would reveal an arrogant side. Something, anything, to throw her heart off the scent of a crush.

“Why would you do that?” She snarled, trying to cover the turmoil in her mind with misplaced anger.

“Do what?” His disembodied voice was confused, the rustling of bamboo revealing his position to (Y/N).

“Embarrass me like that in front of everyone! Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously as a girl doing this?” (Y/N) ranted, her glare already fixed to the spot where Sokka popped out of the foliage into her line of view.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I just... I thought we had something going on there for a minute, y’know? You’re the best fighter I’ve ever met, being a girl doesn’t change that.” He told her honestly. He took a tentative step closer, approaching her like he would a scared cat.

“That trick won’t work a second time.” (Y/N) snapped, her eyes spitting fire at him. Once again, she found herself on the defensive with this boy, every careful step he took towards her sending her a step back until her back pressed against a clutter of bamboo.

“Trick? (Y/N), there is no trick. It’s called liking someone, and hoping they like you back.” Sokka exclaimed, frustration trickling into his tone. He wanted to be patient and give her room to puzzle out his intentions, but she was too busy protecting her emotions to see his truth.

A long pause, before, “he’ll replace me if he thinks I’m easily distracted.” It was said so quietly, in such a hopeless voice, that Sokka wouldn’t recognize it as (Y/N) speaking if he wasn’t watching her lips form the words.

“He’s a fool, then. He won’t find another (Y/N).” Sokka told her boldly, feeling wild and fierce in their bamboo haven with her baring her deepest emotions to him.

“Please stop saying nice things. It makes it really hard to be mad.” (Y/N) whispered in that same careful voice, her tone cooling as she folded in on herself. She couldn’t believe she’d shown her soul to a boy she’d known for two days.

“Then don’t be mad, be honest. Do you find me as distracting as I find you?” Sokka matched her tone, speaking quietly as he tried to coax her back out of her shell.

“No. Yes? I don’t know. I’ve never even liked any of the apprentices before you.” She huffed, tilting her head back to groan at the sky in confusion.

“Stop over thinking it. Do I distract you? Yes or no?” Sokka pressed, taking (Y/N)’s battle calloused hands in his own and tugging her attention back to those oceanic eyes.

“Yes.” Her tone was confident, her rough thumbs tracing delicate shapes over Sokka’s bruised knuckles as she accepted his rough palms in her own.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one, then, or this would’ve been awkward.” He admitted, a warm blush crawling up his neck.

“It already was,” (Y/N) giggled quietly, releasing the tension between them. They stood grinning at each other like fools, both trying to stretch this soft, peaceful moment into a lifetime. Sokka leaned down closer to (Y/N) slowly, his eyes flickering between her own and her lips as he gave her the chance to stop him.

Instead of bolting like he half expected her to, she leaned up and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, pulling him closer. The action threw him off balance and sent the pair tumbling through the bamboo, Sokka landing on top of (Y/N) with a squawk of indignation.

The serene atmosphere broken, they stared into each other’s eyes for a shocked moment before bursting into laughter and settling for holding each other close like a cherished possession.

[lesbianpikachuu]

@nyanbinxry SO I ANSWERED THIS BUT I DONT THINK IT POSTED BC I PUT MY OWN VIDEO FILE ú_ù BUT WHATEVER THAT JUST MEANS I GET TO RAMBLE ABT THE SAME THINGS ABT HER TWICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!LOOK AT HER <3

I KNOW I ALWAYS GO ON AND ON AND ON ABT HOW CUTE SJE IS BUT SERIOUSLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SHES LITERALLY SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!LIKE EVERYTHING ABT HER IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!LIKE LOOK AT HER FACE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!HER SWEET LITTLE FACE THAT I WANT TO KISS SO BADLY?!?!?!??@!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!!??!HER EYES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!HER BIG ROUND EYES WITH THOSE SOMEWHAT-SLIM IRISES AND THE LIGHTNING BOLT PUPILS???????THE GENERAL SHAPE OF HER EYES AND EYELASHES?????????????SO CUTE OH MY GOD....................AND HER CUTE LITTLE :3 MOUTH AND SHE EVEN BLEPS A LOT!!!!!!!!!!!!IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THE LITTLE CIRCLES ON HER CHEEKS ARE ADORABLE AND I WANT TO SMOOCH THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!HER EYEBROWS WITH THE LIGHTNING BOLT SHAPE AT THE END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!HER BOOPABLE LITTLE NOSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AND HER GENERAL FACE SHAPE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! S O F R E A K I N C U T E !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OH MY GOD EVERYTHING ABT HER IS ADORABLE AND HER FACE IS JUST ONE PART OF THE PUZZLE NOW LETS TALK ABT MY FAVORITE SCENE IN EPITHET ERASED AKA A BUNCH OF CUTE THINGS SHES DONE THAT I ADORE

YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!RIGHT NOW YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS SHES SO CUTE EVERYTHING IS SO CUTE LIKE HOW SHE BOUNCES AROUND AND LETS OFF SPARKS AND HER HAIR/CHEEKS LIGHT UP WHEN SHES EXCITED?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!!?!?!??!?!AND HER CUTE LITTLE GIGGLES AND HAPPY NOISES AND HUMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THE WAY SHE TYPES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!HOW HER FACE SHOWS UP IN THE REFLECTION OF HER PHONE WITH SOME SPARKS AND HER LITTLE "OOH~" AT THE VERY END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!EVERY LITTLE ACTION SHE TAKES IN THIS SCENE IS SO CUTE AND I COULD WATCH IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN BC SHES SO ADORABLE AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH SUAUJDDJHDDJFJSJSJD ALSO I DONT HAVE TJE SCENE WITH HER AT THE END OF EPISODE 7 AND ITS RLLY SHORT BUT STILL. THE LITTLE "HMM~" AND HOW SHE HAS HER ARMS AND LEGS CROSSED RLLY CUTELY AND THEN HOW SHE CLICKS HER TONGUE WHILE ROCKING BACK AND FORTH WHILE POINTING HER FINGER AND RESTING HER CHEEK ON HER OTHER HAND GOD ITS SO SHORT BUT I NEED TO SAVE THE EPISODE 7 SCENE TOO HSHDHSJAHDBFBFJS EVERYTHING SHE DOES IS SO CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE AND I LOVE HER SO SO SO SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOO MUCH💗👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌻🌠💙��🌩✨💙🌼🍋💌💟💞💞❣💞💜💝⚡🧡🌠💘💫💝🌈💝❤❤🌻❤💛💛🌈💖🌈💖💫💖🌠💖💗💖✨💓💟💘💝💖💛⚡💛💗🌻💫🌩🌩🌼🌻💌💙💛💫💙🌈💛💜🌻🌼💞💌💞💟🍋❣🧡💙💖✨✨🌼✨💗✨🌠👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌈💛💛❤💙💘❤💚🌈💋💝🌠🧡🧡⚠️💘💓🌠💚🌠🌩💫💙🌈💛💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🧡💌🌼💘💕🍋💖💝💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💖💗💖🌠⚡💛🌈❣❤❤💞💞💫💘🌠❤💗💓❤🌼💘💖💝✨💝✨💛✨🌻💚🌈💋💋💝🌈👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💖💌✨💌⚡💌✨💟⚠️💖⚠️💖💖⚠️💛❣❣🌻🌼💘🧡🌈💙💝💞💜💛❣💚💞🌼💌❣✨💟💖⚡💘⚡🌈⚡👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💟👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩❣✨💞💚💞💗🌈💫💝💞❤💛❣🌻❣💚🌼💌❤💟💖⚠️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚠️💘⚠️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩❣💖🌼💖🌼✨🌈💌💝💋💗💝🧡🌼💫🌼🌻💘💚💘💚💘💌🌈✨💖🌈💛🌈👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌻👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🧡🌈💗🌈💗💘💚💞💞💞✨❣💖❤💖💝💘💋❣👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💓💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚠️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💞✨💞💌💞💗💞🧡🌼💫🌼💞❤🌩💓🌩💓💘💜💛❣💞🌻🌻🌼❤💌💜🍋💖💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚡🌈⚡🌈🌈⚡💟🌈❣👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💞🌻💞💕💘🧡💙🌈💞💝💛💝🌼🌻💞💚🌩💌🌩✨🌩💖⚠️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚠️💘💟👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚠️❣✨💘💕🌈🧡💝💞💝🌈💛💘💚👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💌🌈✨🌈✨💘✨💞💖⚠️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚠️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💟💜💗🌼🧡🌼💙💝❣💓🌼🍋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💟⚠️💛❣🌠⚠️🌠💟💋🧡💌💝💚💗🌻💜💘💜🌈💓❤💓🧡💓💝💚🌈❣🧡❣🌼⚠️💓👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💖🧡💟💕💕💛💚💛💛💕🌠💞💚💌🌻💗💘💖❤💚🧡💫💙🌈❣🧡❣💗💟🌠👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌠🌠💕⚠️💖💛💓💜✨💗🌻🍋⚡🌼🌈💜💙🌈💝🧡❣💛💗⚠️💗💟💗💟💫👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💫💟🌈❣💞🌼✨💜💘💌💙💫⚠️❤❣❤⚠️💚💕💗💓💌💌💓🌼🌈🍋💘🍋🌻🌼💞🌼❣💗⚠️⚠️🍋🍋🌻🍋⚡🌼💝🍋💗💌💟💚🧡💚💗🌠💗💗🌠🧡💖🌼✨🍋🌩🍋🌻🌼💘💗💝🌈❣💌💕🌈💖🌈🌼💗💋💋🌼💋🌈💋🌈🌻💛👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌠⚡🌠🌩💫💜💟💞⚠️💘⚡💗👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌼💛🌈💛💖💛🍋💛🌻⚠️💗⚠️🌠🧡⚡💋🌻💋🌈💋🌼⚠️🌈⚠️💖⚠️💋💕💋💖💛💗💋💞❤✨✨💫💙💝⚡🧡💞💟⚠️💗⚠️💗⚠️🌈💞💖💋🍋💋⚡💋⚡💛💜✨🌩🍋❤🌩💙🌩💜✨💜💝🧡🍋💝🌈💗💌💕🌼💌❣✨💖💕💞✨🌼🧡💗✨🌠💞💫💓⚡💓💞💜💛👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💟⚠️💟💛💙💋🌻💋💘💋💋🌼💛🌈👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💖🍋✨💙❣🌩🌠💗🌩🌩🌼💖💋💋🍋💋💕⚠️💚🌩💫❣💫💝💜🧡🌻💞🌼🌩💗💌💖⚠️🍋⚠️🌩💚💌💚❣💟✨⚡💞🍋💞🌈⚡💫🍋💌💚💚⚡💟⚡🌼⚡⚠️💖🍋🧡⚡❤💝⚡❣✨💖🌩💘🌈🧡💞🍋💓💕💓💓🌼✨🌠🌩💚🍋💌💟✨💞❤💞❤💞✨❤💟👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💓⚠️🧡🌻🧡🌻💋💋🌈💝🌈⚡💘🧡🌼💝💞⚠️💞💫💫💟💫💌💫🌈💖💚🌠🌩💘✨💘💟💘💕💫💝⚠️🌼💕💖💘💝💘💓💘🌠🧡💞🧡🌈💘💟💘💕💕💘🌈💟⚠️✨💝💖💕💜🧡💋💘⚡💫🌼💫💞👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💞👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩✨💫💕💘🧡💘⚠️💚💝🧡⚡💕❣🌻💕🧡💟⚠️⚠️⚡🌈💋💙🌩🍋❣🍋💖💚💞🌈💞⚠️💟👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💕💫💝💗💝💘💕🌈💝💕💋💕💖💕🧡⚠️✨✨⚠️🧡💖🍋💜💚💙💛💟⚠️💞⚠️✨🧡💟🌈💕🌈💝💙🍋🧡❣💚💫💛💛✨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💓💝💖🧡🌈⚡🌈💓⚠️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💕🌈🌈💋💕💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💋✨💋💞💋💞💋💞💋💜🌈💜💕💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💜💋💝💕❣❣🌈💋💕💜💕💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩❤💛💋💞🧡🌩🧡🌩💓🌩💓🍋⚡💕⚡✨💫💛💜💌💕💌🌈💘💕💌👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💜💙💜💛🍋💫🌻🌼⚡💫✨💞💝💞💖💛💕💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌠⚠️🌠💛❤💋💞❣💞💚💋💟💘🍋💋🌈💫✨💌✨💌💜🍋💫🌩💚🌻❣💞💚✨💌💖🌈❤🌈💌🌈💌💕🌠���👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩❣🌈🧡🌈💫👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💞💝💞💫🌻⚡💞🧡💞💓💝⚡🌈⚡💕💜👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌠⚠️💌💌💫💜💘💘💟💜🍋💜💗💫💖🌈🌠🌠👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💌👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💌⚠️💋💛💜💙💞🌈💞💜🌈💋❣💗💚🌩⚡💟💋💝🌠🌠🌈🌠👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💌💛💘💫❣🌼❣🌼💫✨💫❤💫⚠️❣🌈⚡💕💛💌🧡👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💙👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💝⚡🌈💟💌❣👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💫🌩💛🌩💟🌠🌻🌠🌻⚡💓💟❣💙💙💫⚠️💋⚠️💟✨💛✨❣💖🌈💙💗💙⚡💓👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🌻🌠💙💖💋✨🌈❤❣❤💘✨💟🍋💙💚💜🌠🌩🌼💛✨💝❤💙⚡🌩🌈⚠️🌈❤💝💖💙🍋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🍋🍋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💙🌠🌠🌈💗🌈💘🌈❣🌈🌻⚡💕💙🌻🍋💕🍋💞💙💞💝💞✨🌻💚🌼❤🌈❣⚠️❣🌈⚡🌼🍋💋💙🧡💖🧡💝🌻💛💓🌈💟🌈💋🍋🧡💙💋💖🌻✨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💛💜💛❤💟❤💫🧡🌩💕💙💞💙💜⚡🌠💓💋💗💋❣💛⚠️🌈🍋💕💙💕💝💕⚡❣💛💚❤💗🌈💫⚠️💕💞

[saintheartwing]

Undertales of Friendship: Derp-TEMMIE-Nation

Temmie was crying in the rainy streets of Ponyville. What had just happened was absolutely horrible. The laughter, the teasing, the harsh words, it was too much for one Temmie to bear. Worse, her super deluxe ultra rare super delicious Temmie Flakes were now mushy in the mud, the catlike monster crying and shivering.

"Hey... you okay?" A kind voice said behind her. Temmie turned, and saw a sight that made her go wide eyed with uber cute happiness. The grey pegasus before her was about average size, gently flapping her wings, with seven bubbles for her flank tatoo, as Temmie called it. But the cuteness came from those eyes, one looking up, the other down, making her look so huggabale combined with thta Frisky Fun smile.

She called it that because it reminded her of Uber cute and snuggly hoooooooooooooman Frisk, such a CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!

But, she remembered what happened, and sobbed again. "Tem.... sad, so 1 lik Teme, cuz Teme tak werd."

The pony sat beside Temmie, offering her an umbrella, making the Temmie blink happily. "I know what you mean. Ponies pick on me all the time because of my derpiness. They even call me Derpy. My full name is actually Dizty Do Derpy Hooves."

Temmie smiled widely from ear to ear. Literally. "Derp e? Such a cuuuuute nam! I'm Temmie!" Temmie hopped closer. "Derp not allergic to Tem, r u?"

Derpy smiled, hugging Temmie. "Nah, Just clumsy. Ask Twilight. I once dropped a piano on her." She tilted her head a bit. "Followed by a hay cart. Followed by an anvil."

Tem went wide eyed, anime style. "OWWWWWWOWOWOW! Dat mus hut!"

"It did. But she forgave me. And now I even can fly pretty good thanks to Rainbow Dash teaching me to adapt how I fly to my vision." She pointed a hoof at her crossed eyes. "For a long time ponies thought I was retarded.... but these were just messing up my vision, making me clumsy. Some ponies still tease me about it, and I am not as bright as many others...but..."

Before she said another word, a rather annoying, nasaly voice was heard. "Oh isn't THIS rich! Looks like the Temfem found a fweeeeend." The two groaned as they saw a monster shaped like a ufo, with two eyes on the sides, a big ugly nose, and a small, mocking smile under an M shaped mustache.

Jerry.

And with him were several of the local bullies, a group of ponies who basically caused trouble for everyone. During the date bidding not long ago, they made a point of making obscene cat calls to Rainbow Dash, and shortly after the monsters came they were some of the first to rail against Muffet, saying she wanted to turn everyone into flies with her evil pastries, and eat them.

Admittedly that was partially true, but she only did that to parasprites because they were both delicious and cuddly.

"Wow, retards really DO attract."

"Man, you see her eyes?"

"I bet she can't even see us!"

"And I heard yesterday she tried to deliver the princesses's mail to Big Macintosh!"

"Big Mac? I heard she almost started a war by delivering a sex note to Queen Chrysalis!"

Temmie growled, and with one paw that got VERY long, successfully slapping every last one of them, only too late realizing her mistake.

"OOOOOOOOOO... I've been temmied! Now I am gonna have... Hoives!"

Temmie began to sob, bolting. Derpy snorted and growled at the laughing bullies. "You all oughta be ashamed of yourselves!"

Jerry snickered. "You oughta be ashamed of those eyes! I mean, are you looking up or down? Oh wait, it's BOTH!"

Derpy gritted her teeth. With a mighty whinney, she charged Jerry, knocking him down. The two were brawling as Twilight and several guards, including Papyrus, broke it up.

The look on the faces of the guards meant there would be a lot of trouble.

***

"And after what Jerry said, I didn't know what else to do hon! WHat kind of monster is that monster? He is such a.....a....."

"Monster?" Doctor Whooves said, working on his steam powered inventions while he and Derpy talked. The two had married some time before, despite obvious differences (Or perhaps because of them). Now they lived in a quaint cottage in Ponyville, where Derpy spent a lot of time baking muffins to go with the money she maid as a professional mailmare, while the Doctor worked as both a medical practitioner and a fringe scientist.

"Yeah, monster." Derpy whimpered some. "I hate Jerry."

The Doctor peeked out from under his latest work, the Steamy Dreamy 3000, meant to use a gentle steaming mist to help ponies sleep when it is too cold. "Dear, that is still no reason for assult and battery. And Jerry wound up with those bits with you paying out the nose because he had his gang as witnesses. He played you like he tried to play Temmie."

"Ohmygosh! Temmie! I forgot all about her... poor thing, she is so cute and kiind, and those creeps had no right to-"

"Dear." The Doc came over to her and nuzzled. "Think about this logically. Temmie is a very unlogical creature. Now if I were her, where would be the last place I would wanna go after being insulted?"

Derpy pondered, thinking mostly of muffins. Sweet, delicious muffins, with fresh raisins in them, and that home grown oatmeal from Sweet Apple Acres...

"Ummm.... the bakery?"

The Doc hmmmed. "Unlikely.... out of the way....very unusual..... yes, I do believe you are right love!"

Derpy blushed. "Well... I'l be honest, I was kinda asking if we could go there, all this made me kinda hungry." She made a little shy blush, the Doctor chuckling.

"Why not. I need a break and you need a pick me up. Then we can figure out what to do about Temmie."

Derpy hmmmed. "Maybe she is like me? Maybe she just needs to find what she is good at. Something that is just her?"

The two nodded, waking out of the home, humming a gentle tune (Ironically to the music of Temmie Village)

What talent does a Temmie have? What skill, does a temmie show? What job, can a Temmie do? I admit, I really just don't know. Can they sing? Dance? Love? Romance? Run? Play? Sleep all day? Do they cook? Cuddle? Solve puzzles? Do they laugh? Sing? Do anything? Sew? Sell? Ask? Tell? Kiss? Hug? Comfort? Bug? I'll tell you... It's all of the above! What power, does a Tem possess? What things, does a Temmie need? What hope, does a Temmie have? What is, their eternal creed. Can they sing? Dance? Love? Romance? Run? Play? Sleep all day? Do they cook? Cuddle? Solve puzzles? Do they laugh? Sing? Do anything? Sew? Sell? Ask? Tell? Kiss? Hug? Comfort? Bug? I'll tell you... It's all of the above! That's what a temmie does! Just like me and you! That's who  and what a temmie is! And I assure you, it is all true! Tem...Tem Tem... Tem Tem...Tem Tem... "TEM!"Derpy said in shock as she walked in. As she had guessed, unintentionally, there was Temmie, trying to hide in Muffet's Spider Batter, several spiders tryng not to laugh at the cuteness. Muffet herself had her four arms crossed.

"Look, I have no orders for a Temmie Cake...yet." Muffet added under her breath. "And I highly doubt the Cakes, speaking of which, will approve of you hiding in my cake batter."

"Tem not lik even az foob. Tem worth 0."

Derpy approached. "That's not true! You're just different is all, and different means you have different ways, like me."

Muffet nodded. "Derpy is right. You remember what I was like when I first came here, how I was ridiculed because I used spiders in my pastries?"

Nearby, a pair of changeling girls were being tickled inside and out by said spiders. "Yeah, then you found out what we think of them, you doll!" One said, the other smiling and nodding.

"Or Huey! The monster kid with no arms? No one is making fun of him now!"

At the school, Diamond Tiara smiled as the high jumping Huey retrieved her crown from a tree after a crow took it, earning a kiss from the formerly snotty pony and cheers from the other kids.

"Or TWILIGHT?!" Muffet pointed out.

Temmie blinked in surprise. "Huh?"

Derpy nodded. "Yeah, before she became a princess a lot of people made fun of her bookworm nature. But now? Now she is the princess!"

Tem huddle din the batter. "But.... tem knot lik dat...."

Muffet petted the battered Temie with sprinkles. "Yes you are. You're friendly and kind, and everyone who needs a hug can count on you for one. You're the best friend anyone could ask for, and you make everyone laugh!"

Derpy nodded.

Temmie smiled a little. "But.... wha bot Jerr?"

Muffet growled. "JERRY. Now he is someone who IS worthless. No wonder all the good monsters ditch him. He not only has no friends, he does his best to alienate them."

Derpy was confused somewhat. "But why?"

Muffet sighed. "Bullies are often self hating. But if you ask me, Jerry is a rare breed, deary. He bullies just because that is who he is. He hates friendship and hates others, he'd rather be alone yet loves to annoy others, it is like my spider doughnuts are to those changelings in his mind."

Derpy growled. "Man, even Discord has friends, how can Jerry go out of his way to ruin friendship and be happy about it?"

Muffet leaned close to the two. "Because he is... well... JERRY."

***

As the duo of Derpy and Temmie left the bakery, they saw Jerry waiting there, bulies beside him. He snickered some as he watched the two walk out.

"Well well, the cross eyed mule and the low eyed pike return! I wonder if they have any.... derptemmination?! *Snicker*

Ok, that's it. Buck this, I'm done.

"Huh?"

Everyone... let's ditch this guy. He is so annoying and wrong and even I as the writer am sick of him.

Temmie smiled. "Dat goooooo idee! Tem flakes any 1?"

Derpy smiled. "Maybe we can try some Temmie Flake muffins?"

Temmie was so excited she literrally lept 100 feet in the air with her paws still on the ground... and stayed at that height. "OOOOOO! Nomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom! Lezzgo!" She said, wlaking with her new long l-

"HELLLLOOOOOOOO?! I wasn't done insulting them!"

*The entire story ditches Jerry. The world is better for it. After all, who likes a bully?*

...

...

...

...Back at Derpy's house, Derpy and Temmie worked on the TemMuffins, Temmie unintenionally believing that SHE was supposed to go in one and not the flakes, resulting in a couple dozen little fruity smelling Tem Muffins, and one giant one with Temmie in the middle, breathing out actual balls of happiness that smiled as they floated by.

"Tem lik muffen. Muffen so warm!"

Derpy smiled, playfully nomming a bite. "And tasty too!"

Everyone laughed, especialy Temmie, because she was with friends who loved her, and when you had that, then who cared what anyone else thought?"

"Cuz afta all.... Tem happy is best Tem!"

TEMMIEND!

...

...

...

...JERRY: Where did everyone go? Oh come on guys! Where is everyone! Hello? Hellllllllllllllooooooooooo? *Snort* Fine,. this story is dumb anyway*

Jerry walked away. Thank goodness.

Classic Jerry.

[maniacalmachinist]

Predator/D&D (pt 5)

CHAPTER 5:  DINNER AND COMPANY

Hach was uneasy in the odd vehicle, called a “cart,” pulled along by what Gyremar called a “Yak.”  It was interesting listening to the odd banter, some of which was translated by the Cold One per request . . . learning that what he thought were oomans, or “humans” as they pronounced it, were a variety of beings that simply shared the bipedal trait.  From what Gyremar had told him, even the Yautja would be considered “humanoid” simply due to the similar traits:  bipedal legs for travel, hands with opposable thumbs, and the ability to speak some language while handling tools and weapons.  The small one with the ridiculous facial fur was called a Dwarf, named Durgo . . . though there were several other humanoids of similar stature that varied region to region.  The one with the tusks was called an Orc, but it seemed they weren’t very graceful or noble to one degree or another.  He asked about the one that turned into a bird, and Gyre informed him that if he looked at her, a female elf, their ears were slightly elongated and came to a point, with sharper features that most considered attractive by most.  The ones called Lars, Sven, and Jessica were the only actual humans of the group.  He found that even in his hunts, he probably would never have learned anything that distinguishes one from another.

[Oh they have several differences, but with so much variance, the identifying features can become subtle . . . moreso if there’s magic involved, but that’s a cautionary tale for later.]

[What’s this m’gic you keep speaking of?]

Gyre made an odd sound, and spoke the other human, who was identified as female.  She nodded as though given an instruction, made some gestures with her hands while chanting something.  Eventually her hands raised over her head, and there an orb of light coalesced between her fingers, illuminating the woods.  Hach tilted his head, fascinated by such a display, and clearly baffled.

[Magic is hard to explain . . . think of it as forcing your will upon reality itself to change something in that said reality, or instant thereof.  It can be used to dominate minds, shatter material, and as you’ve seen create light where there is none.  It’s not even limited to those actions alone . . . as I told you before, even a word can destroy a nation.]

Hach rubbed his neck with this information, [The closest we have is a burner . . . it fires a bolt of energy at a target, making a small explosion on impact.]

Gyre chuckled, [Sounds like a spell we called ‘Magic Missile,’ and it has a similar effect, but a good spell caster can launch several bolts at a time.  Granted, it may not be as quick to handle as whatever apparatus you have for it, granted we do have devices that contain spells for quick use . . . but only an informed mind would know how to use them.]

[An informed mind . . . ? What do you imply?]

Gyre ponders a moment, [Magic is an art unto itself . . . you either have a natural affinity for it, you study it for most of your life, or you’re granted powers from one source or another.  It gets more complicated since there are so many schools of magic, each with their own perks and pitfalls. The biggest lesson in magical arts is that most everything has a price.]

[What do you mean ‘price,’ and ‘dominate minds’?]  Hach’s tone showed both fear and concern.

[Most spells are indiscriminate . . . they’ll harm friend and foe alike if your position isn’t considered.  Some spells drain your life to compensate their usage.  Others may require a sacrifice of some sort, and that alone gets messy.  And dominate minds does exactly as it sounds . . . you bend the wills of sentients and animals alike to your will, forcing them to do what you wish.  There’s ways around it, but it’s still wise to train your will against such things.] Gyre sighed, [Didn’t expect to have to teach someone the basics of the world . . . most understand these notions well within some years of learning how to walk, race pending.]

Hach canted his head, taking in this information, looking at his weapons and for the first time, considering it nearly inadequate for the needs of this world.  He glanced at the oomanoids, taking note of the equipment they wore and how they wore it.  The d’orf carrying his lopsided “axe” with a U-shaped hook, attacked to a series of straps looped around it’s shoulders. One ooman didn’t seem to have weapons strapped anywhere, but rather a pair of shaped metal bars over it’s knuckles, but the other had opted for a pair of small bladed weapons attached to it’s hips, holstered in straps of what appeared to be animal hide.  The ooman female, as he learned, when not carrying her staff, it rests in a harness similar to the d’orfs’, the odd decoration of the weapon’s head seemed a bit too ornate for combat. He glanced at the U’rc, puzzled by it’s composure . . . while Gyre kept saying it was a “simpleton,” Hach suspected it had better combat skills than communication.  It’s weapon seemed to be little more than a stick, thinner than it’s forearm, with a solid mass at one end with various ridges and spikes covering the surface.

***********************************************************

The group arrived a bit later, Gyre having to dismount first, talking to the entry guards, making a few gestures at Hach’s general direction.  He remained quiet and immobile, looking around and wondering what the discussion was all about.  After a moment, Gyre waved the group forward, [Well, we do have lodging for you, Traveler, and until you get the translation necklace, you’ll be operating close to me for a while . . . oh, and we’ll be having a discussion with the elders of this village to decide the best course of action for your stay.  If anything, they’re mildly grateful . . . the creature you killed, a wyvern, had been a thorn in their side for some time.  However, you’re still unknown to them, and will likely be the object of suspicion for a while.]

[You said Elders?  Are they this village’s strongest warriors?]

Gyre tilted his head, baffled, [Not sure what you mean . . . Elders in the villages are usually those too old to do much more than manage the goings-on of locale.  Some are retired soldiers perhaps, others are merely those who have ages of experiences doing various tasks and keeping things running.  Some are merely handed their position as a form of family tradition, usually based on the deeds of a predecessor.]

Notably confused, Hach responded, [Do not the strongest rule these lands?]

[Strength comes in different forms . . . not sure what kind of society you hail from, but these people are more akin to a mix of pack hunters and herd animals.  The many as one, so to speak . . . in hopes that every able-bodied individual is able to be productive and aid the village, city, or whatever passes for a civilization.  Here, as is often seen, the frailest bodies often contain the strongest minds and wills . . . and sometimes, even the most dangerous.]

The notions presented were like a backhand to Hachende . . . strength in one aspect could be a weakness in another.  Recalling the fight with the lizard, he now wondered how many stronger than himself could have perhaps fallen to such a beast.  Lost in thought, he snapped back to the now, the oomanoids having hopped off while he remained a moment.  Some of the village members came out, talking to the ones from the cart, pointing at him often, while talking among themselves.  He then hopped off the edge of the cart, keeping a hand close to his minimized spear, uncertain of Gyre’s planning . . . there was a tap on the wi’vern’s skull from behind, spinning around to see what had happened.  He looked around, at eye level, then dropped his gaze; a smaller ooman had crept up on him.

[That’s one of their young, Hachende . . . it would be wise to just let it inspect you. Curiosity is usually one of the more endearing traits of their species . . . and that one is braver than most from the look of it.]

Hach nodded, watching the little one circle and inspect him.  He could admire bravery, though one of his own kind would have known better, but it seems for oomans, this sort of this is encouraged to some degree.  It was patting his armor, he made a little growl, hoping it would understand that he doesn’t take pleasure in this.  It then stepped back under his gaze, and he canted his head.  The small creature made a gesture, placing it’s hands on it’s face, pushing them over . . .  he pointed to his biomask in response, the youngling nodded.  He grunted, unplugging the life supports, their tell tale snap-hiss startling the small creature a bit, but it stood it’s ground.  He popped the mask off, resisting the urge to shiver in the chill, revealing his face in it’s entirety to the creature . . . he flexed his mandibles, glad to have no restriction and room to move.  The youngling stared up at him, then brought it’s hands to the sides of it’s mouth, it’s index and thumb making motions akin to Hach’s mandibles.

There was a low chuckle as Gyre made his way back, [Well, seems you’ve been accepted by the youth of these people.]

The youngling seemed openly started by the Cold One speaking Hach’s language.  [Are they usually like this?]  The boy looked startled, then looked at Gyre, saying something unintelligible.  Gyre snorted, [Some are . . . the little girl is asking about what you call your people, and wants to greet you properly.]

[This one is female?  I should have guessed . . . males are rarely this brave.]  Gyre laughed, and Hach brought his hand on the girl’s shoulder in greeting.  It tried to mimic the gesture, but it’s small arms had a degree off difficulty with his size.  When it managed to touch just below his collarbone, he nodded.  Her mouth spread, then she darted off with that odd chuckling sound the oomans made.  [What happens now?]

[They are interested in the event that took place between you and the wyvern, and will be inviting you to join them in dining.  You are, for all intents and purposes, their guest this evening]

A human in more “ornate” attire approached him, but stayed near Gyre’s side, “We welcome you, Traveler, to the village of Crosslight . . . how might I address you?”  

Hachende placed fist to chest, [I am Hachende, warrior of the Yautja,] Gyremar translated. [I was traveling to my homeworld after a hunt, when some anomaly threw my ship into this world.]

The human made a slight bow in greeting, “I am Mayor Halfpine, and your story fascinates me. We thank you for ridding us of the wyvern, and hope that our hospitality will compensate your needs.  You mentioned a ship?”

Hache tilted his head, glancing at Gyre, then back to the human, [Yes . . . it’s a few days further east from what wyvern’s den.]  Gyre blinked, translating.

“Do you require assistance moving it here, or do you intend to make it’s location your home for the time being?”

[I honestly doubt your kind could bring it here . . . and it’s among our laws to keep our technology out of the hands of others.  To let it go like that is criminal to say the least.]  Hache hissed and clacked in warning.

“Oh, don’t mistake me, it was an offer of assistance.  Though I’d imagine Steward Gyremar might help in relocating it for convenience.”  Gyre shot him a warning glance, his look saying, “Don’t overstep yourself.”  

Hach canted his head, confused by the shift in Gyre’s tone, [Very well, you may move it here with my direction . . . however, any of your people get too close, their lives are forefeit!] He growled.  

Gyre sighed, [About how large is this ship?].  Hach pondered a moment, looking around, then pointed to one of the lower lying buildings, a single level stable.  [Hmmmm, I might be able to carry that then . . . ] Gyre noted, then conveyed this information to the Mayor.

Halfpine paled a bit at the threat, but sighed in agreement, “Very well, we’ll find a location close enough to the village, but secluded enough to prevent local curiosity.”

Hach clicked in agreement, [Very well.]  he then stood straight, and planted his claw on the human’s shoulder.  Gyre stated the response, then the human attempted the same gesture.  He hissed in amusement as it almost looked like the youngling’s attempt.

***************************************************

They Mayor guided the group to the village’s Main Hall, tables lined with plates and mugs to accommodate the guests, Gyre and Hach at their own table, and room for 20 others stretched down from their position.  [They’ll likely have questions for us while we dine . . . it’s an odd custom of theirs, but they are social creatures.]

[I doubt I will be getting used to this any time soon . . .] Hach grunted.

[Ah, you are a warrior indeed . . . and I share your disdain, but they do like to stand on tradition when it comes to “diplomacy.”]

[Dipl’massy,] Hach inquired.

[Diplomacy . . . it’s a method of social interaction meant to improve relations between two or more groups involved in something.  A kind of formality, as it were.  On the bright side, they’re feeding you, and providing shelter . . . best to humor them.  At least their food is good . . . I always enjoyed their roast boar or yak.  They have cooking down to an art.]

Hach blinked, about to inquire just as the villagers started to join.  Gyre informed him of the hosts; there were the four fools and Jessica, Mayor and his adviser, the Orcen Blacksmith Blade’s Edge, Druidess Sedira Daybreak, Alchemist Primrose, Ranger Derrick Harringer, and a  host of six villagers and three guards.  There were various servants preparing the tables, and setting out the main dish, sections of “yak” as Gyre informed, as well as an assortment of nuts, fruits, vegetables, and what was called “bread rolls.”  Hach was wary, but oddly intrigued by the smell coming from the selection.  Half a yak’s ribcage was placed on their table, so they may dine in their own manner.

“Please, everyone be seated . . . our cooks have been at this all day, and it would be a disservice to let the main course get cold . . . well, colder.” There was a light chuckle, even from Gyre as he translated for Hach. The yautja was perplexed, but guessed that cooked foods was a requirement by the local diet as opposed to a luxury.  The servants continued on their work, bringing rounds of drink and food while the locals talked among themselves.  The random ones would steal a glance at their village’s guests amid their discussions, Gyre translating every so often.

Hach grunt, then tried the local food . . . biting in, he could taste the juice and the spices. He remembered eating a creature of similar taste on another hunt, but this added flavor was beyond his comprehension.  He tasted the local drink as well, a thick red substance that had the sting of c’nthlip, though it was weaker than he was used to but the flavor again was beyond words.  During his feasting, some of the locals coughed a bit as he ate, apparently unused to how his mouth and mandibles worked, but they resumed as he noticed how it was similar to the Orcs present.

“Hmmhmmm, well, the food here is always grand . . . but, onto business,” grunted the Orc blacksmith.  He turned his attention to Hach and Gyre, “So tell us traveler, where do you hail from . . . and what sorcery brought you here?”

Sven chimed in while Gyre translated, “Oh cmon ol’Ashtusk . . . you just wanna ask about his weapons . . . you’re practically oozing with questions.” Gyre snorted, translating Sven’s comment as well.

[I’m not sure of this thing you call “src’ery,” as I was traveling between systems at the time . . . ] at which point he brought up his wristcomp, and displayed a projection of events over the tables, green beams of light forming a visual display of events.  The locals were stunned, watching events unfold from this device, from when the ship slipped through a seeming black vortex amid the stars, combat with the wyvern, to following the four fools and their antics back and forth from the cave, examination of the corpse (which made a few in the room queasy from the look of it), up to him introducing himself to Gyre.  Though some of the events were present in high speed, intentionally skipped.

“Fook me wit’ a gor’gn’s lock . . . !” grimmaced Durgo, almost dropping his mug.

[As for the weapons, I’m afraid I don’t know how to make them . . . just how to maintain and, if needed, repair.  The Fabricator caste keeps to themselves, and covets their creations.]  He pulls out his spear, flicking the contact and expands it to full length.  The soldiers appeared startled by the display, but the Mayor intervened and calmed their reactions.

Blade’s Edge was agape at the display, “By Reorx’s Forge . . . this is beyond compare!”

[Ror’x?] Puzzled Hache, [It’s one of the deities of these lands, a god of Forges and Creation, usually worshiped by craftsmen.] explained Gyre, chewing on a rib.

The discussions went on, questions darting from side to side . . .

[What do you mean “make something of my trophy”]

“I said if you wish, I can reforge that wyvern skull into a suitable helm or mask for your future travels.  Materials like that are rare!  Some of it’s strength can be added to your own.”

Hachende pondered the implications of this . . . the Yautja did something similar, but to actually adorn one’s self in such a way is a far-flung notion. Even He Who Stalks the Serpents only dressed his equipment to look like the Kiande Ahmeda, but gaining such strength by forging the remains into equipment?  [I will consider it . . . I assume such practice is common?]

Lars held up his knuckle bars, “Damn straight . . . why let a corpse go to waste, especially from a powerful creature?  What I wouldn’t give for raptor claws.”

“No kiddin’ lad . . wha’ I would’nae give to have dragonscale armor.” He laughed, downing a drink, before coughing while Gyre gave him an unnerving look, “Oh, uh . . . err, no offense Stew’rd!”

[I keep hearing this term “dragon,” and you said you were one Gyre.]

Gyremar snorted, [Imagine that wyvern you fought . . . but four times the size, far older, far more powerful, and likely smarter.  Hmmmm . . . I wonder I recall seeing the magic ring in your light display, towards the back of this building when you were observing us, yes?]

Hach tilted his head, bringing up the image, [I could see little through the blizzard.]

[Can you adjust the image to see what you might have missed?]

Hach raised a brow, then made adjustments, shifting visual modes and detection capabilities from the recording.  Then there it was . . . a massive creature with a long neck and tail, powerful wings and a spinal flair that ended in a crest atop it’s head.

Gyre looked at it with a smirk, [Hmmmm, looks like I put on more weight than expected.  I’ll have to get out more.]

[You’re mocking me?]

[Hardly . . . you remember the female who turned into a bird?  You’ll see it tomorrow when we go to find your ship.]

Hach glared at him, unsure how to react with such a claim.

[soundskinsglobal1]

3 Simple Tips to Improve Noise Damping Capacity

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How to improve noise dampening devices

2) Use multiple devices in combination to achieve better results

3) Mounting position should be adjustable

How to Improve Your Investment Performance.

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If you have any questions about a product, be sure to ask a sales representative at a store or online. Be sure not to purchase items until you have had a chance to test them out and see how they perform in real life!

Stay Focused and Keep Your Investment Plans Moving

It is important not to let your investments get mired in complacency when it comes time for next year’s planning season; rather, be focused on meeting your financial goals this year as well as next while still keeping your eye on long-term success! This way, you won’t have too much stress about money when things start TO go wrong – just enjoy your travels while taking care of business!

Make Sure You Are Packing Enough Cash

When traveling for leisure purposes or during business trips, having enough money ready will ensure that you don’t run into unexpected costs or delays when tryingto travel cheaply or easily without sacrificing quality of service or enjoyment. It is also important to have some form of emergency fund in case of emergencies or unexpected delays. By following these simple tips, you will be able to enjoy your vacation while ensuring that you have enough money to cover your needs.

Tips for Improving Your Investment Performance.

Quality assets, such as sound dampening materials, can help reduce noise levels while traveling. In order to find the best options for noise dampening capacity, you’ll need to invest in a good understanding of the different types of materials and their benefits. You should also track your return on investment (ROI) to ensure that you’re making the right decision when purchasing sound dampening devices.

tracks Your Return on Investment

If you want to improve your ROI while traveling, it’s important to keep track of your travel schedule and compare different itineraries against each other in order to make the most informed decisions. Additionally, be aware of new technologies that may impact noise levels and how best to mitigate these challenges.

Conclusion

Improving your investment performance can be a difficult task. However, with the right tools and focus, it's possible to achieve excellent results. Always keep your investment plans moving and track your return on investment to make sure you are getting the best deals. Be aware of technical trends so you can stay ahead of the curve and improve your overall performance.

[hcafarp]

TBOA T D - black patination

the other that describes the one...a key concept

just after the treatment and looking really good - they seem to be continuing to darken and look a different colour in different lights. Thought about keeping the bolts silver but blackeened one to see what it would look like and it looks way better.

So what does this finish say as opposed to the red?

I liked the red as far as a tabloid newspaper banner colour goes - obviously connoting the ‘news’. The material became irrelevant however - it could have been cut from bright red acrylic sheet to have achieved the same effect and either offers no ‘close-up’ interest other than the shapes themselves. It would also work better with hidden fixings

the steel offers an idea of permanence which is enhanced by the bolts - this is a fixed point in time - a metaphorical nailing of colours to the mast.

the piece works from a distance - at that point once the visitor has puzzled and sees the words they see the letters and dismiss the shapes - this was demonstrated by Chris at Central Engineering when he asked me to put a cutting frame around the design - he thought the shapes I wanted were holes and it took him several seconds to realise these holes actually were the shapes I wanted - he saw the letters that are not there

now however I am offering interest once the viewer approaches the work - the emphasis is on the negative space and that’s what they will be having a close up look at - this is exactluy what happened with O U T - in the video of the performance people can be seen closely examining the metalwork and remarking on its texture and colour - I liked their interaction with the work something I would not get with the red version

the bolts act as anchors as if fixing the negative space as being something permanent - the other that describes the one...a key concept

[newtownglass]

Construct Your Glass Shower Door

        Frameless Glass Shower Doors/Tub Combination

  Frameless shower glass doors can be either bypass or pivot. Bypass doors are just sliding sheets of glass that permit entryway into a shower/tub.

  A pivot door is a factor of you reading this short article in the very first place. These are hinged pieces of thick glass that pivot open/closed, much like a door.

    Neo Frameless Shower Glass

  Among the most significant setbacks when it comes to buying a frameless shower glass door is the lack of criteria. 

  One seller will define a frameless shower glass door in various methods from another, and a third one will choose yet another meaning. Truthfully, it can be pretty puzzling to many homeowners. Two terms a person will stumble upon are fully frameless and semi-frameless showers 

  Some glass shower doors use the channels at the bottom or sides of the door to secure it. While some sellers will still say, this is a frameless shower glass door, the more precise term settled on by many in the industry is semi-frameless. 

  Other frameless shower glass doors use clamps to secure the glass door to the wall or a set glass panel, which is what many refer to as a fully frameless glass shower door.

  Another critical problem is the type of hardware used on the door. That describes the product utilized in U channel (for semi-frameless glass shower doors) and the clamps (for fully frameless shower glass doors) along with any other component consisting of the hinges. 

  You will find terms like brass construction, aluminum construction, and anodized construction. If possible, always choose brass hardware. 

  Framless shower glass doors are rather heavy, often weighing up to 200 pounds. The hardware utilized should have the ability to bear all that weight securely and ensure structural stability. 

  Brass is far better at this than aluminum and numerous other materials in your experience.

    Benefits/disadvantages of Frameless Shower Glass Doors

  Looking to resolve the problem of messy wrap around shower curtains or concerned about hazardous chemicals found in many shower curtains? 

  Here, at New Town Glass, Kelowna, we offer Agalite frameless glass shower doors and frameless tub enclosure that significantly reduces health risks associated with vinyl shower curtains. 

  Easy to clean and practically maintenance-free, you will never have to handle a musty shower curtain again. 

  Readily available in an infinite variety of shapes and textures, now you can experience the clean looks that only the appearance of pure glass can provide. 

  Traditional framed glass shower doors utilize metal, rubber, or some other product to secure the glass along the edges. The result is a bulky look that can become an eyesore specifically for small restrooms. 

  A frameless shower glass door eliminates the framing, creating a cleaner and less cluttered look. Many homeowners will likewise concur that a frameless shower glass door is less of an inconvenience to clean and maintain. A quick wipe suffices to get it looking gleaming clean.

  However, the charm and airiness of our Agalite frameless glass shower doors include a few disadvantages.

  For one, the cost of a frameless shower glass door is much higher than that of framed doors. That is due to the increased complexity of designing and install frameless shower glass doors. 

  Secondly, these doors feature a greater danger of leaking water into other areas of the bathroom. Correct design is vital in preventing this.

  With quality installation and proper maintenance, a frameless shower glass door is one of the best bathroom upgrades you can make. It leaves your bathroom sensation airier, brighter, and more substantial.

  While frameless glass shower doors are getting steam throughout the country, many homeowners still utilize ordinary framed shower doors. 

    The Difference in Cost

  To no surprise, framed glass shower doors cost less than their frameless counterparts. According to our estimator, you can save between $200 and $500 on your total project.

  Frameless shower glass doors are much more expensive because the glass is way thicker, and they also require unique hardware

  Seamless shower doors require extremely tough nuts and bolts to hold up. Given that security is always a concern, producers do not only take extra time determining the door but also picking out the ideal hardware for your shower remodel.

  As you may anticipate, frameless glass shower doors cost more than your typical glass shower door. In truth, the average cost of a frameless glass shower door installation is $1,000. However, we have seen frameless glass shower door sets up cost as low as $900 or as high as $1,300. 

  You can save money on your frameless shower glass doors cost by installing the doors yourself (roughly $300), however, provided what you spend on the door,  we recommend letting professional shower specialists mount these expensive and heavy doors.

  Thicker glass - frameless shower glass doors do not have the structural advantage of metal framing; the glass must be thicker. 

  Glass is generally about a quarter-inch thick. 

Massive - a 72" x 36" frameless door might weigh as much as 70 pounds. Compare to a framed glass shower door, which might weigh about 45-50 pounds.

  Shower door hinge combination shower doors are notched where hinges attach for added security, strength, and safety. 

  There are several hardware styles a wide range of materials and finishes are offered to complement taste or to match the existing bathroom fixtures.

  Our Kelowna frameless glass shower doors are 100% glass. They do not require frames and supply a modern and sleek addition to an existing shower enclosure. Frameless glass shower doors can swing open or shut.

  Strong hinges are attached to the nearby wall with specialty hardware made to hold more massive doors. Frameless shower glass doors require little maintenance, look much better, and last longer than conventional shower curtains.

    Glass Shower Doors & Enclosures

  While they do cost more than typical shower enclosures, frameless shower glass doors create a more open and seamless bathroom. They are easy to maintain, and potential buyers love them.

  Agalite glass shower and bath enclosures fabricate custom heavy frameless shower glass enclosures, the intricacy involved in frameless shower glass doors and enclosures. 

  Browse through New Town Glass, Kelowna's website under Services-Glass Showers for frameless shower options 

https://newtownglass.ca/services/shower-doors-kelowna/

      Frameless Vs. Framed Glass Shower Door Expenses

  Expensive - costs range from the $400s to the thousands. Framed shower doors easily will cost 40% less. Much easier to clean - a strong sheet of glass has no framing to hinder cleaning.

  Complex to install - because of the frameless door's excessive weight, care needs to be required to ensure that it is safely installed-- a task frequently best left to experts.

  When choosing a glass shower enclosure, the decision on whether to install frameless glass shower doors or a framed ensemble will be required. 

  Each has its benefits, and it is a matter of aesthetics and performance that will aid in deciding in which kind of shower enclosure to install depending upon the existing space readily available and style desires. 

    Frameless Shower Glass Enclosure Maintenance

  You go to the shower to cleanse your body, so it just makes good sense that your shower and frameless shower glass doors are as clean as can be. Fortunately, when it comes to glass shower door maintenance, cleaning is 90% of the work. If you clean and do the other maintenance product pointed out below, the frameless shower glass door ought to last for a minimum of a decade.

  Daily cleaning: ensure to buy a squeegee and keep it in the shower. Attempt to clean down the inside of the frameless door as frequently as possible. 

  Deep cleans: buy glass cleaner. However, using white vinegar is appropriate, also. It is excellent for removing scum and preventing mold. Use it to the inside of the door and spray it down with water to rinse.

      Still not sure if frameless glass shower doors are best for you? 

  Beyond cost, all potential buyers should weigh the other pros and cons of such a remodel. Considered that frameless shower glass doors can cost upwards of $500 more than standard glass shower doors, the benefits need to deserve it. 

  Very first, as we have stated, 2 of the best features of frameless shower glass doors are the sleek and trendy appearance. Homeowners who choose glass shower doors have a lot more freedom in regards to designing and decorating the bathroom rather than having to work around a shower curtain. 

In truth, frameless shower doors draw the eye towards your beautiful floor and shower tile. If you spent additional money on bathroom tile, frameless shower glass doors would improve their look.

  Furthermore, Kelowna frameless shower glass doors can be custom made so that they can fit any shower or bathroom layout. The very same cannot be stated of shower curtains or pre-made shower stall doors. 

  Beyond design, frameless shower glass doors are much easier to keep clean. The only thing homeowners have to stress over is soap scum, which can build up on glass with time and end up being difficult to remove. Luckily, all it takes is a weekly spray with white vinegar or first glass cleaner to avoid this from happening. 

  Glass doors are also really resistant to mold and mildew, which can become a common problem in damp restrooms. As such, frameless glass shower doors are an ideal alternative for bathroom spaces that are not well aerated and may experience mold or mildew problems otherwise.

  A frameless shower glass door finishes a luxurious bathroom like a Viking range perfects a kitchen. Consider how much of your life you spend in the bathroom; between brushing, bathing, showering, shaving, and doing makeup/hair. 

    You deserve a room you can genuinely relax in. It's not surprising that the ancient Romans thought about the bathroom among the essential rooms in the house!

  Frameless glass shower enclosures from our Kelowna supplier Agalite, can create a focal point that changes a bathroom into a spacious place of respite. 

  In the past, shower doors required metal frames around the edges to hold the glass in place. With such framed glass shower doors, metal surrounded the entire glass door, leaving no exposed edges. 

  Because these doors were built of thin, relatively inexpensive glass ranging from 1/8" to 3/16" density, they needed a metal frame to maintain their structural integrity. 

  Sturdiness was restricted, however, and water and soap scum could quickly gather in the metal crevices, resulting in mildew and deterioration.

    For more information or any questions you may have, I'll be happy to answer them or check out our website.

  Contact New Town Glass at 250-801-5259

https://newtownglass.ca/

[sellerstale]

Prologue (EN)

It always starts the same way. Well, not always, but most of the time it’s like this: the child falls in the mountain, in the flower patch, and the name of the one who fell comes to mind. And go, we get back on our feet, they’re determined, it’s not a few scratches, a bleeding knee and the creeping darkness that will stop that kid. Anyway, if they didn’t move, nothing would happen, there would be no story. But we all want a story, right? You who read these lines, me who writes them, and this child who lives them. Yes, it all starts the same way as usual. You can all recognize it. Besides, it’s the same Frisk as usual. The tangled hair, the pink and blue striped pullover, the yellow-ish skin. The setting is mostly the same, too: collapsed pillars, crumbled stones, and this little bed of golden flowers shining in the thin ray of sunlight. It’s a place where the time seems to have stopped. Even the dust seems stalled in the air, shining when hit by the ray of light. A door, like a giant mouth, is open in front of the child, who knows that they will have to follow this path. Climbing back up is impossible. And there would be no tale like this. The child feels the ground, finds their walking stick, and straightens up, all ready. What awaits them, this time? The child awaits for the first encounter. People don’t fall accidently in the depths of Mt. Ebott. They chose this destiny, even if they know they probably won’t come back. But when a poor kid thinks, from the heart, that humans are worse than the monsters from the legends, maybe they’re right to think that they will be better off with the monsters. Gotta be kinda desperate, you know that? -hHOOOooooiiiiIIIIIII!!!!11!1! Frisk jumped, and looked down. Their gaze caught the eyes of a small smiling creature, looking part cat and part dog, wearing a striped t-shirt. -hOi! iM tEMmiE! tEmMIE-chAN the TEMmie! i’Ve nEVar sEeN Sum1 LIk u hERe, r U NEw??6? The child answered affirmatively. They were a bit surprised by the strange… accent of the creature, it was a bit hard to follow. But at least it didn’t seem mean or aggressive. It was a bit of a relief. -uR kUTe, cAn i HUg U? And suddenly the innocent-looking creature creeped closer, and started to swell like it was trying to fill the whole cavern. Out of pure reflex, the child stepped back as much as possible. -BuT whY DONt u WanT tO hUG me? And Temmie got even closer and got so much bigger, until Frisk had almost no space to hide… were they going to finish this tale so soon, hugged to death by this strange, swelling creature?! It was way too soon, but all of this was so absurd, so inhuman… -What are you still doing here, little pest? Ice bolts crashed on Temmie-chan, and its size got smaller and smaller. It left whining, and Frisk took a little pity on it, looking at it like this. It’s not like it really wanted to hurt them after all! But it was still a relief to look at it leave, and Frisk could finally see the person who saved them. She was tall and a bit bulky, but most of all, she was covered in purple fur. Bunny ears were on top of her head going through holes in a straw hat decorated with a few flowers. She was dressed in a purple dress embroidered with a white emblem of wings and wierd shapes. Frisk felt reassured when she gave them her hands to get back up. She was not… swelling, or vibrating, and her speach was normal. And she was smiling with a friendly expression on her gentle face. -You’re not hurt, I hope? she said in a gruff but benevolent tone. Frisk pointed their knee, that didn’t stop bleeding since they feel down the mountain. It was not that bad, but since she was offering, why not take her up on it? -Oh no, poor thing, you’re running red from there! It’s not normal, isn’t it? Wait, I think I’ve got something for that… And she got a bandage out of her pocket, and put it on the bleeding knee. Immediately, it seemed that the wound was healing and closing under the bandage! It was so strange, just like magic! But Frisk was only a child, and they were not that surprised to see real magic performed under their nose. A cat-dog that got fifty times its original size, magic ice bolts, instant healing… this really, truly was the world of monsters. They always believed it, they always wanted to believe it, and they got to this mountain because they knew. It was real. The magic monsters of the legends were real. Frisk smiled blissfully while the bunny-lady took their hands and dragged them behind her, explaining that there were many puzzles here and that they would need to adjust to it. Of course they would. The tale had just begun. O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*O

English is not my first language, so even if I’m fluent and read mostly in English, some stuff may come out awkward. Do tell me if you notice such things.

Next chapter: https://sellerstale.tumblr.com/post/165154429808/ruins-1

[mossbaydiveclub-blog]

Types of Locks and Services Provided by Locksmiths

Let a Locksmith Open the Door for You

http://mossbaydiveclub.org/ are genial people. They're so kind that they'll drive to your house just to open the door for you. Of course, you have to call them first and tell them you locked yourself out. After you get past that embarrassing moment, you'll be glad you got to know this friendly, professional technician who is on call 24 hours a day.

What Can a Locksmith Do That I Can't Do Myself?

A lot of people like to think that they can install adequate locks and properly secure their homes all by themselves. While this can be an initial money saving plan, it is by far the most unsafe option you could choose. Locksmiths have been providing security to residences for hundreds of years, and, as a result, they tend to know more about locks than an aspiring do-it-yourselfer.

A trained, professional Locksmith should be able to do all of the following: install locks, deadbolts, and mechanical (manual) or electronic locking devices; modify and/or repair these devices; rekey locks; and produce or program new cards or keys to replace lost items. A locksmith should also be available to respond to emergency calls when customers are locked out of their homes or cars through either forgetfulness or lock malfunction.

Here are a few products locksmiths provide that are good for homeowners of all kinds:

Locks

Locks are probably the best and most basic security item to start with. "Most basic" these days does not, however, mean easy for would-be thieves to get around. It simply means that they are relatively simple to install as well as cost-effective. A residential locksmith can come to your home and assess what type of locks are best for your home. They will take into account all points of access to your home and its outbuildings, as well as any interior security needs.

Few types of locks are:

Deadbolts: A deadbolt is a lock bolt, usually rectangular, that has no spring action and that becomes locked against end pressure when fully projected. These are the most common types of secondary household bolts.

Electronic Locks: Electronic locks are more varied, as they can come in the form of keypads, fingerprint entry, card access, electronic key access, and many others. If you have the budget, then these are a great investment. They are ideal if you have especially valuable items in your home like antique furniture or an art collection.

Mortise Locks: Mortise locks are locks that fit into a pocket cut into the end of a door and are held in position by screws through the fore-end. These locks are usually more ornate and decorative and require a locksmith who is also familiar with woodworking.

Padlocks: Padlocks are detachable locks with a U-shaped bar hinged at one end, designed to be passed through the staple of a hasp, or a link in a chain, and then snapped shut. Padlocks are often used on outbuildings like storage sheds or pool houses.

While there are several other types of locks available to you, those are a few of the basics. Other items you'll want to ask your locksmith about adding to your residential security system are:

Decorative Hardware:

Decorative hardware means anything from cabinet hardware to gate hardware, doorbells, and about a million more things. More often than not, any locksmith will offer decorative hardware to go with your fancy new mortise locks. Decorative hardware, while a seemingly superfluous item on the list of home security items, is just as important as your deadbolts. If you have an excellent deadbolt, but a handle that is easily broken, then it's possible for an intruder to unlock your deadbolt from the inside. You want high quality materials protecting your home, so why not go ahead and purchase the ones your locksmith suggests?

Electronic Security Equipment:

While a locksmith might not offer home security systems like ADT, they will more than likely sell things like electronic locks, remote control key access, and more. Some commercial locksmiths are equipped to handle even the most advanced systems that incorporate facial-recognition technology or retinal scanners.

Safes and Vaults:

Do you have expensive jewelry? Maybe you collect coins, stamps or other small valuables. Even if you just keep crucial papers or work product at home, you want some secure place to hold them. A locksmith in California can offer you several options for safes. They can install these safes and even crack them if you forget the code or combination! If you have larger valuables, an in-home vault is also a security option.

Your Locksmith Provides Other Services, Too

Most residential locksmiths perform the same functions as commercial locksmiths, that is, they secure property and buildings and the items therein. Commercial locksmiths more often deal with high-tech locks like card-key systems, electronically coded locks, and even biometric locks. But the double-sided padlock is as much a staple of the commercial locksmith as the residential technician. A commercial locksmith can also perform security assessments of your business, and they can respond in an emergency.

Automotive locksmiths deal with a slightly different set of puzzles at times. Very few cars have plain old lock-and-key systems. At the very least, the locks are remotely controlled and most cars' computers are programmed not to start the vehicle unless the operator has the correct electronic chip along with the key. Despite some differences with commercial and residential locks, however, locksmiths can almost always rekey, repair, open or replace automotive door and trunk locks and even replace the ignition cylinder.

All of these products and services are available at any local locksmith. Your security system needs to be as up to date as possible, to protect your family and your property. What's the best way to keep you and your loved ones safe? Contact a locksmith; they'll be right there with you to secure your home so that you never have to worry.

[stimtoybox]

hey! i love ur blog a lot & i know u have some aussie mods so i was wondering if u could help me? do u know of any physical places to buy stim toys in aus? specifically tangles, squishies, chewies, & textured (bumpy/rigid) things? alternatively, do u have any good online shops/links that ship to aus?

Thank you so much for the compliment! Yes, we can absolutely help. Mod Rainbow and I (Mod K.A.)are both Aussie and invested in trying to make stim toys more accessible forAussies - part of the reason I started this blog was because few people at thetime were talking about places Aussies could buy stim toys that didn’t involvedollar conversion and international shipping costs.

We tag by country of toy origin (not countries to which toys ship) so youmight wish to check out our Australia tag forlocally-sourced toys. We’re now up to twenty pages of posts! Note that I amVictorian (regional Western Victoria, close to Melbourne) so that a lot of my resources tend to skew Victorian. ModRainbow is based in QLD, and I’ll ask them to add to the post if they have anylocal offline sources that I haven’t covered.

But, to answer your question more specifically, I’ll go by store and listthe things they sell. Links below go to that store’s tag or a post featuringthat item. Please note that it might be worth checking on the store’s tag, as all these stores stock many more stimmy things that don’t quite meet your brief for the toys you’re after - everything from bouncy balls and poppers to wooden puzzles and bubble wands.

Also note that dollar stores right now are stocking spinners and knock-off fidget cubes as well as the usual range of hedge balls/hedge creatures, bouncy balls and knock-off slinkies. There’s lots of things available in the toy, stationery and party sections, often for inexpensive prices.

First, offline (or offline and webstore) Australian stores:

Toyworld

(Store locations: Australia-wide, mostly on the East Coast.)

Tangles: $6 AUD for Tangle Jr, Jr Textured, Jr Fuzzy, Jr Metallic; $10 AUDfor Jr Textured Metallic; $10-$15 AUD for Tangle Hairy.

Hedgecreatures: $2 AUD

Snake puzzles: $6 AUD

Mind Games

(Store locations: Victoria, Tasmania, QLD)

Tangles: $10 AUD for Tangle Jr and Tangle JrTextured

Queen Victoria Market

(Located in the Melbourne CBD, Victoria.)

Squishies: $3-5 AUD each.

Daiso

(Store locations: Melbourne and Sydney.)

Wooden Nuts and Bolts: $2.80 AUD for three

Zenshin Massage Roller: $2.80 AUD

Silicone Face Scrubber: $2.80 AUD

Prickle/Massage/Sports Balls: $2.80 AUD for two

K-Mart

(Store locations: Australia-wide. Also allows online purchasing.)

Plastic Jointed Snakes: $2 AUD for four

Mini Massage Balls: $2 AUD each

Makeup Blending Sponges: $3-4 AUD each, depending on shape (squishy alternative)

Silicone and Water-Filled Teethers: $2 or $4 AUD each

Mini Snake Puzzles: $1 AUD each

Sensory Oasis for Kids

(North Altona, Melbourne. Also allows online purchasing with flat-rate shipping in Australia for $9.95 AUD.)

Chewigem Dog Tag Pendant Necklace: $22 AUD (Click here for entire Chewigem range.)

Twiddle: $12.95 AUD

Wooden Puzzle Stick: $2.95 AUD

Tangles: $9.95 AUD for Tangle Jr, Tangle Jr Textured, Tangle Jr Metallic, Tangle Jr Fuzzy, Tangle Jr Textured Metallic; $12.95 for Tangle Hairy.

Smiggle

(Store locations: Australia-wide. Some items for sale online.)

Mini Snake Puzzle: $7 AUD (often on sale at 2 for $7 AUD)

Large Snake Puzzle: $14 AUD (often on sale for $7 AUD

Serpent Puzzle: $14 AUD (often on sale for $7 AUD. Note: not available online, but I have still seen these available in offline stores).

Kidstuff

(Store locations: Australia wide, mostly on the East Coast.)

Hairy Tangle: $14.99 AUD

Second, Australia-based webstores:

Sister Sensory

Source for: Chewables, Tangles, Fidgets

No shipping price listed on their website, so it seems they calculate based on weight.

The Therapy Store

Source for: Chewables, Tangles, Fidgets

No shipping price listed on their website, so it seems they calculate based on weight. 

Skillbuilders

Source for: Chewables, Tangles, Fidgets

Shipping is calculated based on the value of your order. $0-$25 is $8.25 AUD shipping; $25-$50 is $14 AUD. I do not recommend this as a good way of determining shipping, since it’s possible via this metric to purchase two chew pendants, which are light, and pay $14 AUD to ship both when they’d both fit in Australia Post’s under 250 gram weight bracket.

Third, international sources:

Stimtastic

Source for: Chewables

Despite being located in the US, I really recommend Stimtastic as a source for chewables. This is because Australian stim toy/OT stores only tend to stock Chewigem and ARK Therapeutic chewables, which are usually priced around $20-$22 AUD plus shipping (usually around $10 AUD … thanks, Australia Post). Stimtastic’s chewables are $10 USD or less, so even by the time you pay dollar conversion and international shipping, you’re still often saving money. Depending on the chewable in question, sometimes you can even get two items for the same price as one purchased here in Australia.

(Because of issues of weight, there’s other items that I wouldn’t purchase from Stimtastic and would try to source here in Australia instead, but the chewables are too well priced not to purchase from this store, even with international shipping. Plus the shipping is quick!)

Banggood

Source for: Squishies

Most things have free standard international shipping. Despite shipping from China, I’ve had everything I’ve purchased so far arrive in three weeks or less. There’s a range of squishies available here, from only a few dollars each to $10 AUD and more for the larger, higher quality squishies. Not paying shipping makes their offerings that much more affordable and I’ve had no problems with the items I’ve bought.

eBay

Source for: Squishies, Tangles, Spinners, Knock-off Fidget Cubes

A great many of these things also have free standard international shipping from China, Hong Kong, the Philippines. Please note that quality varies widely and most of these things (especially the cheaper free shipping options) are knock-offs. (Check out this post of mine about the knock-off eBay Tangles: they work just like a Tangle Creations-packaged Tangle, but they’re lighter, looser and clickier.) For stimmers without a lot of money, though, these things are well worth checking out, especially if you don’t mind something clickier and louder (fidget cubes particularly).

If you need more help with finding sources closer to your state, please let us know. I’ve probably forgotten something, but my wrist is starting to hurt so I’ll end this one here! Being Victorian, I have more resources than many other Australian stimmers, but availability varies so widely from state to state, at times it’s like being in another country. I know a lot of what I take for granted just isn’t available elsewhere.

- Mod K.A.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #23

UPDATE 23: Rematch

Before we start, I’d like to thank everyone for the feedback. General consensus is that the wide column for the posts are okay, but that the left column should stay thin -- and I like it, it does look better.

Last time Skitter had fought with Oni Lee, barely managing to defeat him, all thanks to teamwork. It was a rather exciting chapter! But things are not over yet, because Lung is in this building too, and Skitter just showed herself to him. You can guess Lung isn’t happy to see her. Let’s continue!

Hah! Somehow saying ‘I accidentally made his crotch rot off’ is the kind of thing that makes people stare at you. Sundancer is very puzzled, and I can’t blame her! I’d love to have heard how Armsmaster tried to explain how he accidentally made Lung’s crotch rot off. Yeah, most likely that concrete topic never came up, but hey, it’s still something to imagine.

Kaiser isn’t happy Skitter’s meddling into the fight, telling her he has the situation under control, clearly demonstrated by Lung’s many power-ups and deformations. Way to go, Kaiser. Lung finds amusement in Kaiser’s words, too, chuckling and twisting his neck to look at Kaiser. What was creepier was that he’d bent his neck in a ‘u’ shape to look behind himself.  It was a movement that a gymnast would have been hard pressed to perform with their back. Okay, time out. Let me—give me a moment here to try to visualize how this is supposed to be.

Like this, but not looking towards the front. Alright...huh. I guess it’s the kind of thing that looks creepy if you’re there, because here it looks silly, not scary, hahaha.

Since Kaiser has to admit Skitter has a point regarding Lung, he asks what she proposes. The answer is that she and Sundancer will help. Alright, sure, that may work, anything that leads to him being defeated faster is good. Lung isn’t wasting any time, though, he tries to get to Skitter immediately. Thankfully, one of Heckpuppy’s dogs saves her – for a few seconds, at least, because Lung tosses those dogs aside with ease.

I don’t think Kaiser’s going to be convinced you’ll be useful if you almost let yourself be caught by Lung, Skitter, just a friendly tip. Thankfully, Kaiser makes a blade barrier between her and Lung, so she has a bit more of time to think what to do. He saves Skitter’s hide again, and commands his Valkyries to draw away Lung’s minions while he forms a pyramid around Lung to throw a massive blade at him. Well, if it fails, chances are Lung will be untouchable by the blades, because this is a lot of exposure to them. Well, he already has pyro kinesis, which he uses to get free.

“You’re an animal, Lung,” Kaiser answered him, “Even without your power making you into… this. Go down!” Someone’s enjoying the situation, I think. As if that wasn’t enough hint of that, Kaiser nails down one of the thugs. That’s cruel, and Skitter doesn’t approve. I doubt Lung likes it either. He’s pushed away by one of the Valkyries, just to bolt back with a rush of fire. “Sundancer, now would be a great time to use your power.”  I spoke. It’s always a great time to use her power! I have a good feeling it’s pyrokinesis too, that’d fit the destructive quality she had said her power had, and while I doubt it’ll affect Lung very much, I’d say it could be of help...somehow. “Get back.  Way back.” Very potent pyrokinesis! To get away, Skitter gets on one of the dogs and is taken away, thankfully the dogs listen to her.

Sundancer had managed to get her power going.  A ball of light, larger than a basketball, smaller than a beachball, sat between her hands. That’s a sun, isn’t it? Hah! Close enough to what I was guessing. Directly under her everything’s fine, but nearby the asphalt is melting. That’s how intense it is.

Like one’d expect, being a couple feet away from even a small sun weakens Lung, pyrokinesis or not. That’s how hot it must be. Kaiser tries to make Lung get as close as possible to the sun, which Sundancer intentionally keeps away from Lung, until Kaiser gets fed up and spears Lung through the heart once Lung is too tired to keep going. Oh, damn. Sundancer isn’t happy with that wanton attack, and tries to argue...nobody’s looking at Lung for a moment, and that’s enough.

It started as a flash of crimson in the corner of my eye.  I looked, and I saw Lung’s wings fully unfurled.  Like the wings of a bat, only they had silvery scales where the bat had fur, and the flesh that stretched between the ‘fingers’ of the wings was the deep, dark red of blood.

That’s kind of edgy. Ruins the effect a bit. At least I feel even more convinced ‘chimera’ really is a better term for Lung than ‘dragon’!

It takes Lung just a few seconds to grab Kaiser and slam him around, knocking him out. Welp. Not only that, in a moment he also takes out of commission everyone else. He slams his claw into Menja’s belly, which makes Fenja try to help her. Sundancer is the target of a seriously strong blast of fire, which doesn’t harm her at all, but is enough for Lung to approach and backhand her away. Skitter’s the only one left. Things aren’t looking good for her here! I can’t think of a bug that may be of use here, and all she has is a knife.

...she’s trying to keep Heckpuppy’s dogs safe. Wow. That’s considerate and...prudent too, because Heckpuppy would be really unhappy if anything happens to them. She tries her meager swarm, examining Lung, and finds no skin or flesh at all. Really? Well that sucks. You know where I think he still has flesh? Inside him. It’s...nasty, and frankly I feel queasy just from suggesting it, but yeah, filling him with bugs is the only thing I can think right now. It’s either trying anything or dying horribly. Guess which one is the preferable option.

That pyrokinesis is very inconvenient, the bugs on Lung are incinerated immediately. Skitter’s still trying to think of a possible solution when Heckpuppy bursts into scene, riding Brutus. Great! Two against one is better – not that it’d tilt the scales much, Lung is immensely tough right now. It doesn’t take long for him to harm Heckpuppy enough for her to scream. “Stop!” I shouted, stepping forward again, “I’m the one you want, aren’t I?” I dunno, I don’t think it’d sound so stupid, Skitter. It’s a bit cliché, but stupid isn’t what I’d think about it. Besides, if it works and gets Lung’s attention, then who cares how it sounds?

Lung starts approaching as if he was going to bludgeon Skitter with Heckpuppy. Hah! I can actually see that happening. He grabs Skitter in the air, her costume protecting her from the sharp claws, but not from his strength. All Skitter can do is direct a single bug into his eye, fluttering in front of it. That gets him to drop Heckpuppy, but she can’t escape before Lung steps on her. Okay, if there’s someone going to jump into the fight and maybe save them, this’d be a great time to do it.

...what’s...going on?

He lowered his arm so I was at his eye level.  Then he squeezed again, weaker than the first time.  Shook me, not as hard as he could have.

Then his arm sagged again, until my toes were brushing the ground.  After shaking me, his grip had loosened, and he hadn’t really tightened it, so I managed to get my knee against the base of his palm and shove myself backward, push myself free.  My feet touched asphalt, and I backed up a few steps.

“Hurrrrrrrr,” he rumbled.

“Don’t fucking underestimate me,” I snarled in response.

...whaaaaat...? I think—did I miss something? It can’t be that cockroaches are Lung’s kryptonite or anything, right? Uh, what just happened? How did Lung suddenly start weakening like that – and it’s implied Skitter’s the one who caused it? I’d have believed it was something like him running out of strength after all the fighting and transformations, but it does sound like Skitter did something, but for the life of me I can’t imagine what it is.

Thank you for asking what happened, Heckpuppy, I really want to find out too.

“Wasn’t sure it would work, or if it’d be enough.  Took a bit of caterpillar, had a roach swab it in that pool of blood Newter left upstairs, and mashed the thing in Lung’s eye.  Big and tough as he is, a drug that strong in the mucus membranes of the eye?  So close to the brain?  Apparently it’s enough.”

...

...

...

...YOU DID WHAT?!

Oh my god. Oh my freaking god. What am I reading here? She just—did she really...I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe that’s what happened. I just...wow. It took me literally a couple minutes to have my thoughts in order to type this all. It’s more or less a transcription of what I thought, just with less ‘what the fuck’ repetition. I can’t believe this.

I can’t deal with this story. Wow, Mr. Wildbow, that’s...did you have this as the end move from the beginning? I mean, all good writers have an idea of how a scene will go, so I’m supposing he started writing this arc and knowing how this fight would end. I have to say, if he didn’t and he improvised this, I’m going to have a conniption over here. That’s such an outlandish solution I just can’t wrap my mind around it.

Aaaanyways...Skitter calls Tattetale’s phone, Regent answers. Everything seems to be going well for that team. Skitter gets Tattetale on the phone and asks how long it’d take for Lung to heal. You mean—are you afraid he’s going to have some damage from getting potent hallucinogen jammed into his eye? I guess it’s not farfetched to think that. Once Skitter gets the information she wanted, she approaches Lung and takes out her knife, maneuvering Lung’s head while Heckpuppy watches.

I jammed the knife into Lung’s eye socket. ...well! That sure is a drastic thing to do! Looks like Skitter’s trying to take Lung out of commission for a few months, at the very least. Lung’s going to be pissed off at that. Guess you’ll be the leader once again, Bakuda. The city better brace for another round of explosions.

When I was done, I stood, sheathed my knife and backed away from Lung’s body. Shouldn’t I feel worse about this?  Shouldn’t I feel sick, or grossed out, or disturbed by the morality of it?  I didn’t even feel cold, the way Grue had described.  It just felt like something I had to do.

...uh...okay, I’m pretty sure nobody’s going to mind except the ABB, so it isn’t like anyone’s going to chastise her for this. It really may be for the better she did this. Still pretty messed up, though. You sure are getting quickly into the supervillain role, Skitter. It’s almost scary.

Everyone seems to be more or less okay. Menja and Kaiser are still unconscious, but Fenja saw everything and surely will tell them how Skitter defeated Lung – again. Suck on that lemon, Kaiser, you got shown up by one of the Undersiders. I’m still astonished for that.

“I’ll leave it to you to make the call, but if you think Kaiser has a sense of honor, maybe point out it would be bad form to push the point on the dogfighting thing, after we dealt with Lung for him, saved his life.”

Well I think that’s the end of that problem. I don’t think it’ll be discussed anymore. Not only Skitter took out the ABB leader again, she also may have just solved the problem Heckpuppy caused. Next arc won’t be about that, then? No idea what it’ll be about. All that remains is for everyone to go back, it’s over. The attack is done.

This sure was an exciting chapter! It had my attention all the time, and I found myself on the edge of my seat several times – metaphorically, yeah, but the sentiment is what matters. And what a chapter this was, I have said it before and I say it again: Mr. Wildbow really knows how to write action scenes, and this chapter was more proof he’s good at that. I have some time left, so I’ll check the next chapter now. Hive 5.10, what do you have for me?

“Whitemore and Sunset, yes.  Listen, the leader of the ABB, a parahuman by the name of Lung, is incapacitated at the scene, but that won’t be entirely true for long.  He’s drugged and blinded, but the drugs will be out of his system before too long.”

I have to wonder if the Armsmaster will know Skitter had something to do with this. She’s the last person who defeated Lung and maimed him horribly, and now she did it again. At least this’ll make him suspect she’s involved in some way, right? Maybe. If he does suspect that, Skitter’s hero cred keeps having negative numbers.

Skitter doesn’t give her identification to the 911 number, Sundancer and her keep going back to a safe place. Sundancer is rather creeped out Skitter just...took out Lung’s eyes. I know, right? That was seriously ‘fucked up’. Well said, Sundancer. Skitter tells herself that was a necessary thing to do, and well...from a pragmatic point of view, she’s right, that was necessary if this assault was meant to be meaningful instead of a temporary obstacle. Part of me really hopes to know what Bakuda and Oni Lee’s reaction will be once they hear what happened. It’ll be real bad for the city as a whole, but it’ll be satisfying for a moment.

But in the end, it was what I’d wanted to do when I’d wanted to be a superhero.  I’d taken down a horrible person. And to be a superhero you need to be a horrible person too? Well maybe it’s a requirement to be a big hero, cough cough, ArmsmasterPanaceaandGloryGirl, cough. Maybe Shadow Stalker is a precocious young hero. ..I’m just kidding, sorry, that was a bad one.

Skitter asks why Heckpuppy returned. Well...two of her dogs were there, why wouldn’t she return? She wouldn’t just walk away and leave two of her dogs to be killed by a bunch of psychos. Besides, she seems to me the type to want a good fight. Since one of Coil’s soldiers was a trained medic, there was nothing else for Heckpuppy to do, so she returned and was a big help. You should thank her, Skitter.

Speaking of being grateful, Newter thanks Skitter for saving his life. He may be tougher than normal people thanks to his biology, but Skitter saved his life. There’s really no time to talk, the authorities will be coming soon to deal with this all. I’m hoping the intermission will be other people’s reaction to what happened, seriously.

Ah, right, Skitter had gathered all the money from drug sales and stole it. Well it’s not like anyone in the ABB will miss it. Everyone takes a bag, leaving two for Skitter because she really deserves it, even though I doubt she’ll want it. Newter shook his head, then pointed to a manhole cover a ways down the road, “We’ll head back to one of our hideouts through there. ...really? I don’t doubt Coil’s soldier bandaged the open wounds and all, but going into the sewers seem like the fast road towards a serious infection. Does your biology make you immune to infections? Okay, it’s not like he has other options, but still...nevermind, Skitter asked about it and indeed, this guy’s immune to infections. Lucky him. Apparently Labyrinth’s awakening was, uh...it affected her mental processes, so to say. Guess it makes sense.

He shrugged, ���Sometimes getting powers fucks up your body,” he gestured to himself using his tail, which was still holding the paper bags, “Sometimes it fucks up your head. Bad luck, but you deal with the cards you’re dealt.”

Everyone who is more or less okay is rather lucky, then. I’ll have to ponder if it’s possible for someone to go insane, or for one’s personality to change, or to develop strange behaviors, any of that as consequence of awakening to powers. Maybe for many capes one could say that the person before the awakening and the person after the awakening aren’t exactly the same, powers aside. Maybe even Taylor changed and she didn’t even notice. Dad Hebert...he’d have noticed, so I guess if she did change, he’ll comment about it.

You know, with all this, I think Skitter may have scored a lot of points with Faultline’s crew. Not only she saved Newter’s life, she also gave them money and defeated Lung. Sundancer may not sing praises to Skitter, though, what after witnessing the eye-carving. Kaiser...yeah, his opinion won’t change for the better. It either doesn’t or he gets a grudge for what happened.

Heckpuppy, are you being kinder towards Skitter? Could it be respect? She’s extending hands and helping Skitter. I guess she’d do that grudgingly, but I’m hoping this is out of respect. It’d mean even Heckpuppy is accepting Skitter, that’d be nice – and would make Skitter even less likely to betray the Undersiders.

In a rather peaceful and brief scene, Heckpuppy takes Skitter to the beach. No, it’s not an impromptu date or anything, what’re you thinking. It’s more like Heckpuppy wanted to ride around on her dog, and once they got there, she let them go to return to the hideout once the transformation was over. Skitter doesn’t have a change of clothes. That’s a problem. Heckpuppy tenderly grabs Skitter’s face, and delicately moves it out of the way to take a look at a bruise. And just so you know, by ‘tenderly’ and ‘delicately’ I mean the complete opposite. Never change, Heckpuppy.

Skitter has some rather extensive bruises, courtesy of Lung’s large clawed hand from when he grabbed her, to the point where she can’t even hide those from Dad Hebert. How’s she going to explain that one, I don’t know.

Something warm settled over my shoulders.  I looked at Bitch as she finished draping her jacket over me.  As she drew back, her eyebrows furrowed, glaring at me, I wrangled the bags and my bundle of costume so I could get my arms through the sleeves and do up the buttons.

Golly, I didn’t see this coming. You’re such a complicated character, Rachel. I like that. Now I’m completely sure, she’s being kinder. That’s great. Rachel doesn’t really believe Taylor is grateful, so it isn’t like they turned into friends or anything, but at least things aren’t as tense as before...until they get to the hideout, where things are back to glares and evil eyes. You’re seriously complicated, Rachel.

Taylor is so puzzled by how her gratefulness was taken the wrong way she even offers to pay Rachel for an answer to her questions. She does pay...and it leads nowhere, other than to being banished from the den. Hah! Better luck next time. When the rest of the Undersiders return – I guess without injuries or anything, since there’s no mention of that --- Taylor goes straight towards Lisa to seek answers about something:

“You want to know if there’s anything wrong with you, that you don’t know about?”

“No,” I shook my head, “Wait, is there?”

“Nah.  So what’s up?”

Oh. Okay, so that’s that. What’s for dinner tonight?

Since she just got told she doesn’t have anything wrong, Skitter moves towards the next doubt she has, and that one needs more sensitivity. “That’s the thing.  What I’m thinking is… maybe when her power gave her the ability to understand dogs, it overwrote something else?  Fucked up her ability to deal with people?” The answer...is that yes, it did. Huh. I didn’t think that was possible, maybe I should have guessed before today that powers could affect someone like that. It could be said that Rachel doesn’t understand anymore the subtleties of human behavior and interaction, so she falls back to what she knows about dog behavior. That explains many things...I did have the feeling many times that Rachel’s reactions and behaviors were based on canine behavior. I now see there’s an explanation for that, one that goes beyond it being part of Rachel’s personality. Rachel is a very interesting character, at this point I wouldn’t be lying if I said she’s the one that gets my attention the most.

Taylor is told to not talk about this, ever. That’s for the better. Besides, this is something not even Brian and Alec know about. I wonder...could it be that accepting all of what Lisa just said will be a big part of Rachel’s character growth during this story? My, it could be! It’d be intriguing!

Oh, this was the last chapter of Arc 5, according to Mr. Wildbow’ comment right here. Once another arc I just finished gets the crown of ‘favorite arc’. I think once I finish Worm I’ll do the same I did for Scary Go Round: rank all the arcs, from least favorite to favorite. It’ll be fun.

So, next comes the intermission, doesn’t it? Crossing fingers I hear about the reactions from the ABB or from the capes about what happened! But that’ll be for next time. Thank you for reading!

Next update: four updates

[reptilerach]

“Rejection”; Chapter Four

NOTES: Some bad language in this one, just as a forewarning. Also, thanks so much for the support and notes! I’m sorry I haven’t updated this in a while, so I made it extra long. Thanks!

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Hoisting yourself up from off the carpet, you walked back over to the couch. You glared at Sans, but he just ignored you and propped his legs up across the seat where you would've sat. Not even wanting to bother arguing with him anymore, you decided to head into the kitchen and do what you normally do when you’re depressed. Eat.

As soon as you look through the fridge and find that nothing really edible is in there (just some rock hard meatballs and burnt spaghetti), you slam the door close and shove your hands in your short’s pockets. Sans was fast asleep on the couch, but you didn't dare try to lift him. Just as you were about to sit on the floor and sulk by the corner, a crash the volume of a plane exploded behind you.

You whipped your head around, thinking that the pet rock may have fallen off the table mysteriously; but it was just Papyrus marching into the house. Right towards you. You let out a small yelp causing Sans to bolt awake, jumping nearly a foot high. He rubbed his skull tiredly, looking extremely annoyed, but you could care less at the moment. He was being jerk, so you weren't gonna mind him.

Papyrus was the one who you were concerned about; next thing you know, you’re being hoisted into the air and spun around faster than a top. Hard, skinny bones hugged you close to a crimson scarf, which was as soft as sheep’s wool. You clung onto the taller skeleton’s shoulders to keep yourself from falling off, and demanded to know why he was holding you in such a vigorous way.

When you spat out a rude threat about how you would throw up all over the floor if he didn't stop soon, you barely noticed Sans give you a warning glare to chill out. You rolled your eyes, but complied. “GREETINGS HUMAN! I SEE THAT YOU HAVE AWOKEN FROM YOUR SLUMBER.  I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM JUST SO HAPPY TO HAVE ANOTHER HUMAN FRIEND! FRISK CAN GET QUITE BORING SOMETIMES.” He boomed, and you winced. But, alas, you smiled anyways when the skeleton set you down.

You wanted to faint from the vertigo, but forced yourself to stay upright until Papyrus finished speaking. Sans seemed to respect that. “Ugh….” You tried responding, but as soon as you wanted to work your vocal chords bile shot up your throat. Your eyes widened, and you quickly brought a hand up to your mouth to keep from vomiting. “MY, HUMAN! YOU LOOK GREEN! SANS, I DIDN’T KNOW HUMANS COULD CHANGE COLORS.”

Sans shrugged, and winked to his brother nonchalantly. “eh, this one can. she doesn't have a specific dominant soul trait.” Papyrus gasped, and clasped his hands together excitedly. “WOWIE!! THAT MEANS YOU ARE SPECIAL, UM… WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN?” He tilt his head to the side innocently, and kneeled down to your level. Normally he wouldn't have had to do that, but since you were hunched over trying to regain your sense of gravity, Papyrus took it upon himself to keep eye contact throughout your… pleasant conversation.

“U-ugh…(Nickname).” You stammered exhaustively, holding up a finger to give yourself a minute. “’U-U-UH (NICKNAME)’? IS THAT YOUR NAME? I LIKE IT! IT’S NOT AS GREAT AS ‘PAPYRUS’, BUT IT WILL DO.” Papyrus swept his hands under your arms, and pulled you up straight. Releasing you like a sack of potatoes onto the ground, you just barely caught yourself from puking onto the rug. The impact of coming down was enough to make you stumble back and desperately clutch the TV.

“Wait, Paps. That's not my actual-” You tried calling back to the giddy skeleton prancing about, but he just posed heroically and flicked his cape behind him to make it move. “NOW THAT I KNOW YOUR NAME, DEAR HUMAN, I SHALL MAKE US ALL DINNER!” Papyrus stormed into the kitchen, and pots came clashing down onto the floor. You cringed from the noise and your motion sickness, but froze completely when Sans called back for his brother.

“hey papyrus.” Sans cupped a hand next to his teeth to project his voice louder than the clanging of metal nearby. Papyrus poked his head out from around a corner, and had a questioning look on his face. You dart your eyes back and forth between the two, and gasped when Sans asked what was for dinner. “WHY, SPAGHETTI OF COURSE! THE MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS IS SURE THAT YOU’LL BOTH LOVE IT!” And with that, the younger brother disappeared back to his culinary masterpiece.

Sans flicked his pupils over to you, and snickered when he saw your look of horror. You knew that when Frisk had to try some of Papyrus’s spaghetti, they hated it. Now Sans had to go and make you eat it too? You wanted to ask if he would take you to Grillby’s or even Muffet’s instead, but the thought left as quickly as it came. By the way Sans was treating you, it was as if he despised your mysterious knowledge about… well, everything.

You sighed, and slumped down next to the TV. You brought your knees close to your chest, and your eyelids drooped heavily. You wanted to go to sleep badly, to just drift off into a land of dreams. Away from the skelebros, away from your certain death by spaghetti, and away from your feelings of rejection. But, the more you thought about it, Undertale is your land of dreams. Why is it treating you so poorly?

It's not treating you poorly, (Y/N). The little voice in your head said. It's just your emotions that are taking over your experience down here. Remember how thrilled you were when you fell here in the Ruins and met Toriel? When you first met Sans and Papyrus? Those guys are your favorite characters! Shouldn't you be overjoyed every second you are with them? You thought sadly, but countered with the person in your mind nonetheless.

Yes, but I don't know how to do that right now. When I was, ah... rejected, my heart shattered. Now Sans, my favorite person in the entire Underground, is being a dick when he doesn't even know it. He doesn't know how much I adore him, and he most certainly doesn't know that I'm actually a really good person. He just thinks I'm a threat to Papyrus, which I don't blame. I should be treating Paps like the cute little cinnamon roll he is, but rather I'm letting my depression turn into crankiness and I'm taking it out on my only friends. If the skeletons even consider me their friend. Mumbling a few more curse words under your breath, you weren't surprised when Sans coughed slightly to give you a hint to stop.

If only he knew what I was going through right now. If only he knew how confused, heartbroken, and depressed I was. Then he would at least have the decency to quit being such a rude host. You growled at your own words, but it came out more like a pathetic whine.

Across the room, Sans raised a brow in concern. He didn't know why, but he had some sort of odd sympathy for the large human girl. It was a feeling in his gut, tugging at him to crack some sort of joke to make her feel better. His brain fought strongly against it; this girl was dangerous. She has a very, very vast amount of info within her that she is not willing to share, which by definition meant that she was up to something. But… What if she wasn't? What if this human girl was just as lonely, sad, and useless as Sans felt about himself?

Out of the goodness of his soul, he decided to help the human get out of her mood. But it was done reluctantly; like he was only doing it because he had to. Like he was ordered to do so by a parental figure, or something. Which was ridiculous, because this was his house, and he payed the bills here.

“papyrus!” Sans shouted again, but Papyrus didn't come out of the kitchen this time to answer Sans. He simply yelled back, focusing hard on collecting bowls and plates. “WHAT IS IT, BROTHER?” Sans kept his gaze on you, watching as you refused to lift your head up. He frowned, but kept going. “is there a specific type of pasta we’re eating tonight?” Sans asked, and smiled when he got some sort of reaction out of you. You had raised your head up slightly, and plastered a puzzled scowl upon your face.

What is that guy doing?? Does it really matter what shape of nightmare we ingest? You thought sourly, and were a little appalled when you saw that Sans had been staring at you the entire time you were fighting against your own brain. Your heart skipped a beat, and cheeks burned. Dammit. I can't even look at him without blushing. Jesus, (Y/N). You really got issues, if you're in a heavy depression over a guy and wind up blushing for someone completely different. I really am freaking desperate after all…

You sniffled away some silent tears, and brought an arm up to your face. It didn't help cover your red cheeks, but at least it got rid of any evidence that you were crying. The last thing you needed was anyone’s pity.

Sans watched curiously as he saw you raise a tan hand and wipe your face. Your cheeks were glowing brightly, but your expression seemed miserable. It never occurred to Sans that you may be crying, but he did know that something was seriously up. Because after inspecting a such a soul like yours, the way you have been making your first impression appear did not seem accurate to who you actually were at all.

He grimaced, but switched back to a grin before anyone could notice. However, it's not like anyone would, mainly because when he peered back into the kitchen again he saw how Papyrus was busying himself by stirring a pot of homemade sauce together. “NO SANS, WHY DO YOU ASK…?” Sans smirked, and prepared for the barrage of attacks he was about to blow.

You thought furiously to yourself, and could feel those stupid eyes the whole time. When you had caught a glance of Sans’ smile whilst wiping your face, you felt slapping the shit out of yourself. Of course Sans knows what you're going through. He's the only character in the whole freaking game who actually mentions how he has to deal with depression every single day of his life. I'm only suffering a little compared to the amount of time that the poor skeleton must worry over his and his brother’s safety.

Always having to be weary of your surroundings...watching out for nearly everyone you know, since you love them...when does he ever get a break? You feel like a complete douche bag, and continue to belittle your inner confidence with harsh words. Sans knows what it's like to be confused, since he's the one who wants to know how and why I came into this world. I don't even know where to start looking inside myself either; guess I'm not going to be leaving the Underground for a while. Which isn't bad, since I have such lovely monsters to keep me company.

But here I go again making this all about me. That's why he rejected me; I'm a selfish know-it-all that was looking for love to fill the crack caused by loneliness inside my heart. And when I grew too attached, I knew that I would take it really hard when I was eventually turned down. Heartache is all I'm feeling, but Sans would understand that too. Because he's lost his brother before to Frisk, who was actually Chara, who was actually-

“well, i'm just saying…” Sans shrugged on the couch he was laying comfortably on, and you snapped out of your stupor immediately. “why make one type of pasta when you can have more? just imagine the-” he turned his skull to face you, and clicked his teeth for effect, “-pasta-bilities!” Your jaw dropped, and you heard Papyrus scream.

“GAH!! I KNEW IT WAS A PUN!! IT HAD TO BE!!! UGH!” Papyrus shrieked, and you burst into laughter. Sans flinched, and was astounded at the noise coming from your mouth. He thought you’d hate his joke, but luckily that was an incorrect assumption; thankfully, he had way more puns up his sleeve. “paps, get me some paper and penne, cause orzo ‘bout to make you guys do cart wheels for spaghetti!” Sans stood up from his seat, and reached behind the couch.

You perked up intently, and wiped your eyes from tears of laughter. Papyrus stomped out of the kitchen, still holding his huge pot of tomato sauce. “SANS, STOP THIS INSTANT! YOU’RE MAKING THE HUMAN LEAK!” Papyrus shouted, but Sans didn't listen. Instead, he pulled out a trombone from behind the couch and let out a comical riff. You sat up straight and laughed hard, shoulders shaking happily from joy. All the sadness inside you disappears, and you’re left with a rush of euphoria.

“now, let me patella ya something, kid,” Sans winks at you, and instinctively you  bring a hand up to your face and cup your warm cheek, “if i were to try and explain all the different was that one could come out of their shell using spaghetti, i would run outta air inside my lunguini's! now that wouldn't be gouda.” At the end, Papyrus had steam coming out of his ears. He was stirring the pasta sauce so hard that you thought it would explode everywhere; foreseeing the future, you ducked under the table with the pet rock just in case. “ENOUGH SANS! THIS IS EXCESSIVE, EVEN FOR ME!! LOOK, EVEN (Nickname) IS HIDING!” He shrieked, pointing to you under the table.

Waving back to him, and he scoffed. You giggled at that, and Sans seemed happy enough that he would end his comedic act. “no need to be so saucy, papyrus. that's gnocchi way to act towards our guest! say, kiddo. what do you make ricotta all this?” He set the trombone down, and balled his hands into fists. His shit-eating grin was gigantic now, and practically begged you to retort back with a pun of your own.

Papyrus, on the other hand, literally cried aloud to do the opposite. “PLEASE, HUMAN! SPARE ME FROM MY BROTHER’S TERRIBLE JOKES! DON’T LET HIS BAD INFLUENCE ON YOU AFFECT YOUR ANSWER!!” He stopped stirring, and awaited your response anxiously. Sans was laughing over your laughter, which made you smile and your heart skip another beat on the inside. Your face was beet red from nearly hacking up your lungs, but at the last second a perfect response came into your head.

You took in a deep breath, and for a moment it seemed as if Sans’ mouth actual opened wide with ecstasy. Papyrus’s solemn expression dropped to one of annoyance, and then his face went blank. “SHE’S GOING TO DO IT, ISN’T SHE-” “HOLY MACARONI!!!” You screamed, and chaos finally erupted in the living room.

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Chapter Ten (Where all the chapters before that are.)

Chapter Twenty (Links for Chapters 11 --> 19)

Chapter Thirty (Links for Chapters 21 --> 29)