#unless you were using a capture device

[lovemeonlytilthespring]

Distant Future complete. And with this... the Middle Ages chapter is now available. I... don't think I'm emotionally equipped to handle that right now though. Next time!

(Original upload date: October 17, 2022)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Better call the Human

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The courtroom was silent as Overseer Mikab slowly scrolled through the petition brought before him. It was still early in the morning so the rest of the courtroom was empty save for a pair of Tenvalen’s who sat in the front row behind the litigate’s table. They had been the ones to capture and hand over the felon now on trial and waited eagerly for Mikab to sign the petition and hand over the felon to their custody for transport back to Tenvalen space.

To the front right of the overseer on the prosecution side were the litigate Ji, and opposite him was the captured felon Wei’ran still shackled to his chair. Ji was fiddling with the latches of his suitcase, indifferent to the situation. He was already thinking about what he would be doing with the payment the Tenvalen’s had fronted him to speed up the hearing. They wanted Wei’ran bad for crimes he had committed against the Tenvalen’s and had hunted him down across three sectors before cornering him. After a short chase through a crowded street they grabbed him and made him confess to his crimes.

“Does the defendant have anything to say before I make my decision?” Mikab asked as he finished scrolling through the request. Before Wei’ran could respond the doors to the chamber opened and a lone figure stepped inside.

“My apologies,” they said as they walked past the Tenvalen’s and stood next to Wei’ran, “I was delayed from representing my client.”

“Your client?’ Ji asked. “I was not aware they had even asked for legal counsel.”

“That is because for the last twenty four hours I have been denied access to my client.” The human retorted as they opened their briefcase and pulled out several papers.

“Honored Overseer, I would like to put forward a motion to deny extradition of my client to Tenvalen and request his immediate release.”

Ji scoffed at the unreasonable request while Overseer Mikab turned an inquisitive eye towards the human.

“On what grounds do you make such a request, litigate…..”

“Horris; Frank Horris honored Overseer.” The human replied when he realized he had not introduced himself yet. “And I would not waste your time unless my request was grounded in clear cut facts.”

Ji was about to speak when Mikab held up a hand to silence him. He was not one for flattery, but the show of respect towards his office was a refreshing change of pace and the Overseer nodded for Horris to continue.

“My client,” Horris began as he motioned to Wei’ran, “was illegally kidnapped, detained, and interrogated by two Tenvalen’s who then coerced my client to make false statements admitting guilt to save his own life.”

“Lies!” one of the Tenvalen’s shouted at Horris. He rose to his full height, an impressive seven feet tall, and looked down at the human as if they were nothing more than a smear across the underside of his boot.

“Silence.” The overseer replied calmly. The Tenvalen glared at the human a moment more before relenting and sitting back down.

“These are serious accusations Mr. Horris.” The overseer said as they clasped their fingers. Horris responded by separating several sheets of paper and handing them to an orderly waiting silently next to the overseer.

“As of this moment there are no extradition treaties between the Tenvalen’s and the Jenharie Republic, which means the two Tenvalen’s who hunted my client through the city streets were acting of their own free will in complete defiance of the law.”

“Counter point!” Ji demanded. “They were apprehending a wanted fugitive who was causing chaos in the city streets.” Pulling out a small device Ji activated it to show the chase of the Tenvalen’s as they rushed after Wei’ran. The security footage caught Wei’ran running away as fast as he could using everything and anything to block his pursuers.

“As you can see he was a danger to the general public that needed to be taken into custody.” Ji finished.

“If that were the case why did they not inform local law officials of their operation and work in conjunction?” Horris countered. “Furthermore, why did they not identify themselves as agents of the Tenvalen government and instead began chasing my client through the streets like madmen?”

The human turned to Mikab. “Dear Overseer, surely you can understand that if two large scary looking aliens began chasing after you without announcing themselves you too would seek to flee for your own safety.”

Mikab surprised Ji by giving a subtle nod in agreement. “I am inclined to agree with your assessment,” he began before cutting of Ji who was about to speak up, “I also would like to know why our local enforcers were not made aware of this detainment.”

“There was no time to inform local enforcers, overseer.” Ji spoke calmly. “Had they taken the time to inform them Wei’ran could have fled to another world and once more elude justice for his crimes.”

 “So they felt that they were above Jenharie laws and could come and go as they please?” Horris countered. “My Overseer this does set a dangerous president for future cases if people can ignore your laws with such audacity and get away with it.”

He stood in front of the overseer and pointed at his client. “What happens when they come calling again and grab another person off the street? Or maybe two people? Or twenty? When do the laws you seek to uphold protect the innocent?”

“Innocent?” Ji laughed. “Wei’ran gave a full confession to his crimes in Tenvalen territory and signed them.”

To Ji’s surprise he saw the human nod in agreement rather than shake in embarrassment.

“Please tell me litigate, was there anyone else present in the room besides my client and the two Tenvalen’s who abducted him?”

“What does that matter?” Ji scoffed.

“It matters because my client was afraid for his life and the only guarantee of his continued survival was to agree with whatever his captors told him.”

Horris turned around and faced the two Tenvalen’s sitting behind Ji who had become increasingly flustered at the course the trial was taking. “He had been chased down, beaten, dragged into a room and questioned by two people he thought wanted him dead. He would have admitted to being the reincarnation of god even if it meant they would cease their torment.”

“Overseer-“ Ji spoke up but Mikab held up a hand.

“The human makes another good point. Was there anyone else present during this confession that can corroborate this confession?”

Ji’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find a counter argument before relenting and admitting there was not. Horris shook his head at the admission.

“This only further highlight’s the mockery of Jenharie law as it is written in stature 441-74-5698FB that “During any interrogation of a witness or perceived criminal there be a minimum of two to three non-participating witnesses who can observe the questioning to ensure the lack of coercion”.”

“You know our laws?” the Overseer asked with a modicum of respect in his voice. “Not many offworlders take the time to learn them so thoroughly.”

“I do, my Overseer,” Horris nodded, “which is why their flagrant disregard to be so upsetting. For if offworlders like myself cease to respect these laws how can you claim to be the pinnacle of a just and fair society?”

Mikab said nothing as he looked at the human. He was impressed they had been able to so easily dismantle the case against his client after only just entering his courtroom. From the corner of his eye he could also see Ji fuming behind the ears as he wanted to no doubt curse out the human and demand the extradition be pushed through.

“What would you recommend instead?” Mikab asked Horris.

“I would never seek to impose over you, but since you have asked my opinion I would respectfully ask for a dismissal of not only the notion of extradition but also all charges that have been brought against my client here today.”

He waved a hand to Wei’ran as he still sat silently in his chair. “My client did cause a commotion which frightened several innocent people as he fled, so I find it would be more than fitting to sentence him to an extended period of community service to repay the debt he has incurred upon the people you protect.”

The two Tenvalen’s were now glaring daggers at Ji whom had assured them this case would be a speedy trial but now looked to be unfolding around them.

“I am inclined to agree.” Mikab admitted, much to the dismay of Ji. “I hereby state the evidence brought against Wei’ran has been corrupted and is no longer admissible in my court. Extradition request is denied and I sentence the defendant to serve a period of seven rotations of community service.”

With a bang of a loud gong the court session came to an end. The Tenvalen’s rose to their feet and looked as if they were to pluck Wei’ran and run when the orderly stepped between them and unholstered his electro-maul. They were sure they could easily overpower the orderly, but more would come and the pair would be trapped inside the court building. They instead chose to leave and report their situation up the chain and look for a more diplomatic solution.

When finally it was just Wei’ran and Horris Wei’ran spoke.

“I didn’t request a litigate.” He said softly. He eyed up the human who was replacing the papers back into his suitcase. “I didn’t even get a phone call after they nabbed me.”

“No, but you have some important friends that like to keep an eye on you.” Horris admitted, locking up his briefcase with a loud click. “When they saw you taken they gave me a call and told me to get you out of trouble.”

“You call this getting me out of trouble?” Wei’ran laughed. “Seven rotations of community service?”

“It beats being locked in a Tenvalen maximum security lockup, guarding your holes every time you drop the soap in the shower.”

Wei’ran paused at this and said nothing. “The trick is not to admit you are free of guilt; just not the guilt you are being accused of. You muddy up those waters enough and before you know it you’ll be swimming to freedom again in no time.”

[fatuismooches]

Hello! If your requests are open, may I request Akademiya Dottore and Reader where the reader helped design his hair? Like, cut his hair and get him to have the curtain bangs and mullet he has now? I apologize if this is confusing.

Being Zandik’s lover in the Akademiya also meant being a dutiful roommate and his part-time caretaker, because if it weren’t for you, there would be many more occurrences where he skipped meals and lost dozens of hours of sleep. Let’s just say, you were a very persistent person when it came to your boyfriend’s health.

At the very least, he did keep himself presentable. But once he came to terms that you were genuinely trying to help, he left the buying of products like lotion, soap, and shampoo to you, so he wouldn’t have to leave the dorm to purchase such items. This was actually a good thing because you could make him smell however you wanted! Though you don’t want to think about the time you found out he used a 9 in 1 shampoo. (It was banned from the dorm immediately.)

One of the other things you did for Zandik was cutting his hair. Many of his haircuts were done by you, he found it convenient since he could continue to read while you snipped-snipped his locks away. You normally kept it short, so it wouldn’t get in the way of whatever illegal or legal things he wanted to do. But this time, you wondered how long his hair could grow if you didn’t intervene.

And oh, did it grow.

His blue hair was now a little bit past his shoulders, fluffy and curly thanks to your brushing. (The first few times, he had chased you away, but gave in when he found out he liked the feeling of his hair being combed.) Zandik didn’t bother questioning why you let his hair reach this length, he didn’t care much about his appearance unless it was bothering him personally. Until now.

“[Name], give me a haircut,” Zandik’s annoyed voice broke the silence of the room, his notes lying abandoned on the desk as he gave you a vexed look, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. You giggled, pushing away your homework that was definitely due the next day in favor of your lover.

“Oh? You’re not enjoying the long hair anymore?”

“It’s grown to be inconvenient,” he muttered. “It’s so long, sometimes blood gets matted in it.” You had to hold back a snicker at that complaint. As to why Zandik simply didn’t tie it up, well, for some reason, he doesn’t like doing that. Oh, but you do wonder how he managed to get blood in his hair. Usually, he’s more careful than that with his subjects. Guess it was indeed time for a haircut. “And these bangs, they get in the way of my eyes. It’s hindering my research,” he huffed. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll cut it,” you chuckled. You just wished you had some sort of device that could capture his current look forever. It was just so adorable to see Zandik with a mop of fluffy long hair.

After you had set up the area with a towel and a mirror, you got your scissors and comb ready (unfortunately Tevyat didn’t have any better tools.) Zandik already had his attention placed on a hefty ancient book, and you began to move the scissors to a tuff of hair.

Snip. The fluff ball flew down to the floor. And that was when you paused. All of this hair was really going to be gone soon. Which was a shame, considering it was really growing on you. But then an idea popped into your head.

“Hey Zandik,” you said, propping your arms on his shoulders, “What if I gave you a different haircut?” A few seconds of silence passed and you couldn’t contain a grin as Zandik’s red eyes flicked up from his book to stare at you through the mirror you had placed in front of you two.

“Is this why you didn’t bother cutting my hair for so long? I don’t recall being asked to be part of your little experiment.”

“Well, it’s not like you were that much of an unwilling participant. If you truly hated it, you would have made me cut it a long time ago, no?” Zandik scoffed and you took it as a sign it wasn’t a flat-out no.

“Come on! You’ve had that same haircut for years, it’s time to spice things up a bit,” you insisted. “It’ll look so good, promise,” you pouted, going as far as to press your cheek against his scowling face. He let out a sigh but you already knew he was going to agree. It’s the intuition you got from years of dealing with him.

“Fine. Do as you like,” he grumbled, giving you authority over the direction his hair would be now, as he returned his attention to the book. “As long as it is something decent.” You silently cheered. 

You had a faint vision of what you wanted, but you had to be cautious of the snip-snipping. Maybe you should start with the bangs first. Instead of the hair falling on his forehead, you wanted to clear that area and make two long bangs to the side of his face instead. Convenient, Zandik’s favorite, and pretty too, your favorite! And so you got to work, clipping and cutting around. But it seemed like your human experiment was more interested than you gave him credit for. 

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Zandik let out a discontented noise but allowed you to proceed. You found it amusing how his eyes were flickering up to you every now and then to assess your progress. And soon enough, you had done it! Two long, blue locks of hair now bordered your boyfriend’s face, parted from the middle of his forehead. Even Zandik seemed to be satisfied with your work.

But still… it felt like there was something missing. It needed a little something else, to make it a bit unique. Perhaps if you just changed the length of one… you brought the scissors closer to snip off a piece of hair before a hand suddenly grabbed yours.

“Is it not fine this way?” Of course now he has to intervene.

“Well, it is, but… I just think it’ll look better if I just cut one a little bit.”

“I’ve never seen anyone with two differing lengths of bangs,” he frowned. “I remember asking you to present to me a decent haircut, not an outlandish one.”

“That’s because you barely go anywhere besides the dorm, Akademiya, or deep in the forest and desert,” you refuted. “It’s very stylish nowadays!” He didn’t seem much persuaded. “I’ve been cutting your hair for this long, I know what I’m doing, Zandik!”

“You’ve been doing the same haircut for years, I don’t see how that equates to knowledge or experience with other haircuts, [Name],” he rolled his eyes at you. Harmless bickering like this was normal during your Akademiya days.

“Alright, if it looks bad, I will give myself the same uneven cut. Then we’ll be even,” you whined, practically begging for him to give in. “This is very important to your long-time partner, Zandik!” You had a vision and it must be realized!

Before Zandik could let another insult roll off his tongue you made sure to throw your arms around him dramatically and bury your face in his neck, whining out another ‘please’. He stiffened at the sudden contact and you could feel the heat slowly emitting from his body, before he quickly announced his permission.

“Fine then, get on with it idiot.” He could not meet your eyes, but through the mirror, you could see his very slightly flustered face. He still had a hard time accepting physical affection without giving you a few choice words.

“I will!” With no hesitation, you snipped one of his bangs, and now, one curl of hair hovered over his shoulder while the other rested comfortably on his upper chest. And it looked… really good. 

“I told you, Zandik. You need to listen to your assistant more often,” you puffed your chest out proudly. Indeed, you didn’t know much about hair, but he didn’t need to know that, and you turned out to be right anyway!

“It’s passable at best,” he remarked, but you had already translated his sour words to that of regular language: it meant that he liked it. Hopefully, now that he’d seen your expertise, the rest of the haircut would go smoothly.

Only that it was the opposite.

“I don’t like how that looks.”

“I’m just parting your hair…”

“Part it the other way.”

“I thought you didn’t care about this,” you heartily laughed and complied with his demands. “You seem more interested in this than me.” Seeing the mad scholar so into what hairstyle he was getting was rather amusing. 

“I’m only doing this because I cannot afford for you to mess up, since you want to be so complicated with mere hair. And I don’t need the other scholars talking about me more than they already do.” Zandik wasn’t even trying to fake his keen attention now, the book long discarded on the table. Ah, you did love doing such domestic things with your murderous boyfriend.

It was hard to shave the side of his head, but with your boyfriend’s guidance (who was honestly better with scissors than you for… obvious reasons) you managed to get that part done. And at last, came the hair to the back of his head, which you shaped up easily. The locks of hair rested at the back of his neck and tickled his shoulders. It was long, just as you liked it, but not too long that it would be annoying. And so the haircut was done, with lots of blue locks now lying on the floor surrounding you. Zandik looked like a very different person now, more mature, you think.

“Well, how do you like it? I did quite well, I know,” you hummed running your fingers through his newly formatted locks.

“It’s adequate,” he replied dryly. But it seems like your content smile and gentle hands on him brought out something a bit nicer. “Not bad, indeed.”

“I’m glad you like it, love,” you pecked his forehead before you pulled away, stretching out your body. You didn’t realize how sore you were from all of that until after it was done. And now your body was crying to just collapse in the soft bed and go to sleep. Oh, your homework? Eh… your homework could wait for the morning. You’d just let Zandik do it for you. Speaking of Zandik… it looks like he was already preparing to start getting back into his research and notes again. 

“Zandik, I know you’re not thinking of going back to work now,” you sighed. “You’ve been sitting down for hours.” He simply shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“It doesn’t bother me. And I’m busy. During our last expedition, I discovered that…” Out of nowhere, he began to go off into a tangent about something he learned, which you still listened to, because you did enjoy his mini-lectures, but the new haircut especially made him look extra alluring. It was really a good look on him… and now his voice was making you want to fall asleep even more.

“Mhm, that seems quite interesting… but you’ve been pulling all-nighters this whole week. I didn’t forget how you fell asleep in the middle of dismantling a Ruin Drake during that same expedition,” you smiled, a little bit threateningly.

“It was only for a few minutes-”

“And also,” you interrupted. “I do not want to be woken up in the middle of the night during one of your loud eureka moments again, Zandik,” you stated firmly, “Especially not after I just broke my back standing up for so long. Bed. Now. And I will hold your arm hostage if you don’t come.” Normally there would be a long back and forth between the two of you, but it seemed that even Zandik lacked the normal energy to keep up the banter. 

And so with enough pulling and tugging, the two of you landed in the bed with utter darkness around. Should you have cleaned up the tufts of hair lying on the towel you placed? Yes, but cuddles and sleep came first. And for someone who moaned and whined about getting into bed with you, after years of being together, Zandik was awfully touchy when it came down to it (in a discreet way, which wasn’t very discreet though.)

Speaking of indiscreetness, your mind was brought to a certain someone who seemed to gain some interest in Zandik a while ago. “Say, Zandik, you should let me know if Sohreh has something nice to say about your new hairstyle,” you teased. “I’m sure she’ll love it.” Zandik let out an immediate groan of annoyance.

“Don’t get me started on that girl,” he clicked his tongue in irritation. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle her.” You thought the whole situation was funny, Zandik thought it was horribly annoying.

“Aww, don’t say that… I’m sure she’ll leave you be eventually,” you giggled, tightening your arms around him while your lover just hmph-ed in response.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to sleep? Cease this nonsense and rest already.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m doing that now, Mr. Popular,” you rolled your eyes mockingly. “Good night, Zandik,” your tone turned softer at that last statement, as you pressed a kiss to his chest before fluttering your eyes shut.

“Yes, good night, [Name],” the scientist returned the farewell in an unusually soft tone as well, only after you were fast asleep though.

The two lovers had a rather restful sleep that night.

[splatoongamefiles]

The sad thing about these DMCA attacks is that by my interpretation of US law, Nintendo has no legitimate grounds on which to make them.

"The Congress shall have Power to promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries." is the United States' stated justification for copyright law. What this means is that they are attempting to "promote" production of the Arts by increasing their profits. Therefore, something in infringement of copyright that in no conceivable way would reduce the profitability of the work is fine under the original purpose of copyright law.

There is no possible way a Splatoon fan ripping models from the game for the purpose of reference and Blender renders is going to affect the game's sales figures. Nobody who was planning to buy the game would choose not to because someone uploaded its character models.

Meanwhile, there are no valid infosec or trade-secret grounds for the takedowns, either.

Since the assets were not leaked from a corporate computer through any data breach or violation of privacy, but instead were datamined from a publically-available game update with a date of publication, they are already released.

Fans talking about these assets is "spoilery", but if the company wants us not to talk about these assets, it shouldn't publically release them into the game that we own. It's how computers work. To put something into a program, you need to release it. If you release it, that means people can see it. To suggest that the public should not be able to see what's inside the live game update that physically exists on their own devices is like suggesting that people should not be able to see the ingredients of their food... oh, wait. The USDA very much does think like that. Regulatory capture.

Regulatory capture, I guess, is also why IP has expanded to be an all-powerful information-control tool. Do read giovanh's articles on it, if you haven't already.

thank you for the info, but no. they hold the copyright, they can take down whatever, unless it falls under fair use, which they can definitely argue that ripping game files and shit isnt. i like this video about it.

(im gonna still keep doing this blog, even when it's noticed like on Twitter, usually just individual posts are removed but the account is fine)

[midnight-pluto]

(Followers event) Might aswell start calling me the pjo asker, since I had my share of angst already, how about some Leo Valdez x child of Ares Reader, enemies to lovers Riordanverse and Headcannon or one shot form

Plot: Leo and reader always had a disliking towards eachother, part of it being due to their dads own dislike towards other but soon starts to like eachother s company then finally turns to lovers.

(This was rushed, sorry about that, you can ignore the plot part and get your own idea from the start)

Note: since you're starting to feel burnt out, you can honestly do this when you start feeling better.

LEO VALDEZ — headcanons

when did the enemies stop and the lovers begin?

CHAR: leo

PAIRING(S): leo valdez x child of ares!gn!reader

WARNING(S): swearing, googles translated Spanish (I chose French instead which I highly regret)

A/N: ur now dubbed pjo asker anon — dw about me i took a break yesterday 😌✨

it was easy for leo to automatically stereotype you based on just finding out what cabin you belong to alone

he hated how loud the ares cabin was — it wasn’t like the apollo cabin where Leo could listen to its soft Melodie’s while he worked, it was loud thumps and yelling disturbing his work zone

that caused him to always be snarky and passive aggressive towards the majority of your cabin, grown some guts after going on a quest and finding out he can set things of fire

you were clarisse’s second in command always ready to defend your cabins pride at a moments notice

it was always when clarisse wasn’t around when Leo decided to pick a fight with you — saying some backhanded things about ares kids

don’t get Leo wrong, he grew out of hating all ares kids phase in the first few weeks of arriving at camp

he just started to hate you

and you had already hated him

that caused a lot of tension between the two cabins as a whole and especially got in the way whenever capture the flag was involved

it was nearly a crucial unspoken rule that the ares and hephaestus cabin never be on the same team unless you wanted to lose

until someone made the mistake of doing just that

“Oh of course, you know exactly what to do! It’s not like you’re known for your brains,” Leo taunts while you were making plans and putting on gear.

“As if you could come up with anything any better!” you retort, “The only thing you’re known for is spontaneously combusting.”

“¡Cállate, pedazo de mierda!”

“What the fuck did you say to me fuckface?!”

“Nothing, just that you’re the most pleasant person to be around!”

did you learn Spanish just because you were really tired of not understanding Leo whenever he muttered and yelled in Spanish?

yes

yes you did

that wasn’t great for Leo though since he always mutters under his breath about how it’s getting tiring always having to argue with you and hating how’s he grown to get used to and admire the face that yells back at him

“Why do you even have anything against me?” you glare, walking around Bunker 9.

“¿Por qué me acostumbraste a tu cara?” Leo mutters back fiddling with some device in his hand.

“¿Cuál fue siquiera esa frase?” you remark blandly, seeing his shoulders drop in shock.

now Leo has to be extra careful about what he says when you’re around afraid that you’ll find out about the feelings he’s deemed stupid for you

however sometimes he forgets just how many people can understand you and him when these bits of banter echo across camp

so some campers have decided to take it upon themselves to translate every single thing Leo has said about you on a piece of paper and deliver it on your pillow — there were dates and everything

it seemed to be the one thing that caused you to try have a civil conversation with Leo with him actually returning your civility

“So what was this about you saying I have a pretty face?” you remark, flipping through the packet.

“That,” Leo pauses, “That was when the lighting was extremely good that day.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Okay,” you nod along sarcastically.

the whole thing was extremely satire since both of you had too much pride to formally apologize to each other so it came in the form of not screaming across camp at each other

it was the best time your vocal cords have had in a while

not for the rest of the campers though

the yelling was practically a common occurrence and was a part of their daily schedule at this point so the silence that should’ve been comforting was now ominous

it got to the point where they all had a makeshift meeting where they had to figure out where both of you were and make sure nothing happened

until then they saw you walking out of the forest — presumably from bunker 9 — poking fun at each other and laughing good-naturedly

and so, the Aphrodite kids won the bet against the Apollo kids and gained a shit ton of drachmas

A/N: I’m sorry this was so shittily made 😭 but shameless plug once again — my 200 follower event has been extended to the end of November and will not be put to rest until I get at least 8/10 requests so feel free to request some more /nf <3

[celestialspecial]

In Cold Blood (pt 1)

Synopsis: A slew of murders have you and the other detectives scratching their heads, but the killer himself seems beyond fascinated with you.

Warnings: This is probably my most warning heavy story- mentions and graphic descriptions of blood/gore, death, murder (serial killer!billy is a giveaway), weapons including gun/knives, home invasion mentions, eventual smut lets just say EVERYTHING IS 18+- read at your own discretion

Tag list: @vermillionwinter , @nerdyreaderpapi

You turned a corner, feet hitting the pavement as fast as they could. Water splashed up from a puddle but it didn’t slow you down. The buzz of traffic didn’t calm your racing heart as you skidded to a stop down a corner alley.

How had this happened? You were so sure of yourself. So careful. At least that’s how it felt. 

It had started innocently enough, well maybe innocent wasn’t the correct choice of words.

It had started with the death of a local businessman. He’d been found in an alleyway, shoved between trash bins. Multiple knife wounds scattered across his torso and neck. You’d been called to investigate the scene with the other officers.

It had left your mouth dry, the other officers you worked with were rarely left speechless but this….this did it. The brutality of it was unmatched from anything you’d investigated before.

Then a few weeks later there was a woman found murdered in a similar fashion, body left in Central Park for anyone to find. Then there was another and another. It made your stomach turn. 

Then you found yourself volunteering to be on the case. To figure out who the bastard was. Why they were doing this. And to put them away for as long as possible. 

The longer you researched and devoted your time and energy to figuring out how to catch the murderer the less it made sense. There was no rhyme or reason or outright motives that stood out to you. Just a building body count.

That’s when you got the first call.

You’d been working from the office late one night, pouring over the latest crumb of evidence you’d been able to scrounge up. A blurry cctv blip of footage capturing a large figure in a black hoodie up over their head leaving the building where the last victim was found.

The noise jolted you from your seat, the blinds drawn in your office and the steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead wearing away at your eyes. It was late. Very late. No one you knew would be up at this hour. Not unless it was an emergency.

You didn’t recognize the number. So not a friend or relative popping up on caller ID. You let it ring another few times before sighing, with a roll of your eyes and sliding to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Detective Archer.” You felt your body freeze at your name being used. The voice crackled on the other end. Deep. Male. But it was edited somewhat, like he was speaking through some sort of device to conceal his voice. 

“Who is this?”

“Ah ah ah that’s on a need to know basis.”

“And I don’t need to know?” You pushed away from your desk standing to walk over to your closed office door. Peeking through the blinds to see the still empty office.

“I’m not in your office if that’s what you think.” Your blood ran cold as you froze in place, fingers just pulling away from the door.

“Are you…watching me?” Your eyes flitted to the windows on the right side of your office, rushing over and drawing the blinds closed.

“Always.” 

The word hung on the phone line, heavy silence.

“You’re him.”

“There’s a lot of “hims” out there, I’m going to need you to be more specific.” He was taunting you.

“The killer.” Laughter rang out in the other end.

“It took you a little while there, detective. Here I was thinking you were the top of your class.” 

“Why are you calling me?” You moved back to your desk wondering if there was some way you could trace the call from your cell phone. 

“To ask what your favorite scary movie is.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re gonna get.” 

“Come on Detective, play a little game with me.”

“Is that what you think this is?” You hissed into the phone. “A fuckin game?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Rage bubbling up and leeching into your voice.

“It is to me.” 

Then with that the line went dead. You swore, tossing your phone onto your desk falling back into your seat. 

Hands scratching your head, fingers twining furiously through your hair.  Eyes squeezed shut as you’re cursed once more before calling your boss and the rest of your team to alert them to this new development.

Another victim was found a few weeks later, a single stab wound to the chest right over the heart.  A Large Bowie knife was left in the body, with a swath of paper folded and held in place by the weapon.

You talked with witnesses and scribbled into your notes after consulting with another officer before turning on your heel to head back to the office. 

Knowing tonight you’d drink a pot of coffee and review how out of character this kill was from the previous victims. Was this even done by the same person? Did you have another murderer out there to watch out for? It made your head spin.

“Detective, I think you need to see this.” A cop named Thomas motioned you over to him holding out the piece of paper just removed from the victim.

You took the now unfolded paper from him eyes roving the page. A large red heart was drawn on it with blood. Whether it was the victims or someone else’s you couldn’t be sure, but that wasn’t the thing that worried you most.

Inside the heart was writing, scratchy red ballpoint pen spelling out in large letters, “Archer.”  A gift, a love letter, a taunt, you weren’t sure which one it was but it made your blood run cold. 

Hot water poured over your skin in the shower, hoping the scalding heat would strip away the knot in your stomach. Whenever you closed your eyes all you could see was the heart, teasing you.

The paper had been placed in an evidence bag and was now being tested but you couldn’t shake the visual from your head. Turning the water off and reveling in the steam before you wrapped a towel around yourself stepping into the bedroom.

All your scattered notes and random photographs littered your home desk and you were starting to feel pathetic at your lack of purchase on this slippery case. How many people needed to end up dead because you couldn’t do your fucking job?

Then the phone rang. A million thoughts ran through your head before you said fuck it and answered. 

“Hello?”

“Did you get my gift?” 

“You’re sick you know that?” You flipped on the tracer you’d installed on your phone after your last call. 

“Detective, I’m wounded. I gave you a lovely gesture of our relationship.”

“The only relationship we have is going to be when I arrest your ass and put you away for the rest of your life.” 

“I love when you flirt back with me.” 

You rubbed your brow absentmindedly, hating how limited you felt. How you felt like back in training being ridiculed by higher ups. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“I enjoy talking to you, Detective.”

“No. Killing people. Innocent people.”

“Who said they were innocent?”

“Who says you get to be judge, jury and executioner?”

If you stalled long enough it’d give your tracer a better chance of locking onto where the call was coming from. Giving you a shred of further evidence.

“You look very nice tonight.”

Your fist subconsciously gripped your towel tighter to your chest. The curtains in your apartment were drawn, and you had checked the lock over four times out of habit.

“How do you know how I look?” You wedged your phone into the crook of you neck, holding it in place as you reached into the end table pulling out your gun and checking the chamber was full.

“Are you close to catching me, Detective? Have I been occupying as much space in your mind as you do mine?”

You padded slowly down the hall, weapon held firm, pointing into each room as you passed. The heat from the bathroom emanated into the kitchen and you swiveled around the corner poised for an attack.

It never came. 

He was toying with you. He wasn’t here. 

“Why would I be in your head?”

You heard a thump back in your bedroom and the hair on the back of your neck stood up at the sound. The line was silent as you waited for a response, slowly inching back towards your room, gun held aloft.

The only sound you could hear was your own heart thundering in your chest as you eased into the doorway, ears straining to hear any other movement. In a rush if adrenaline you tossed the phone onto the bed throwing open the closet door.

It was empty. 

Keeping with your agitated pace, falling to the floor and checking under the bed only to see it bare as well. Angrily snatching the phone back and biting into the mouthpiece.

“Where the fuck are you?!” 

At that you heard footsteps back from the bathroom, thumping through your apartment and your front door being thrown open, the alarm blaring. 

Scrambling to catch up you stumbled into your living room and were greeted by the open door leading into the hallway of your apartment complex broken open, the chain lock busted and scraping back and forth as it hung limply.

The line went dead and you immediately dialed 911, waiting for a familiar operator to answer as you relayed your predicament. When you heard confirmation they were on the way you rushed back into the bathroom to grab your robe.

There on the mirror was drawn a heart, like that from the note found on the victim. The condensation beaded up as it bled in various water droplets from the remaining steam from the shower. 

The months continued on, all leads turning up nil. The tracer you had used only led you to a discarded burner phone in a trash bin by soho. The murders had briefly slowed down.

The phone calls however had not.

Their length and timing varied but it was always the same voice. Slightly skewed but a man’s voice all the same. It had helped you rule out a female suspect. 

The continued goading wasn’t the main thing grating on your nerves. No it would be much simpler if that was it. The true horror was how you began to wait for the calls. 

You refused to use the term, enjoy. But they no longer caused your blood to run cold in the same way. One day to your absolute dismay after a long stressful meeting you actually felt your shoulders unclench when your phone rang.

“Long day Archer?” 

“How can you ask me that when you’re the source of my stress?”

“Am I?”

Besides the phone calls there was the disturbing hints of affection. A bouquet had appeared at your desk at work one day. No note, but you didn’t need one to know who it was from.

Then a bottle of expensive wine was left on the steps of the precinct with another card bearing only a simplistically drawn heart inside.

The bottle was immediately taken in as evidence and dusted for prints. There obviously were none. No matter what you did he was always ten steps ahead. 5D chess in the most infuriating way. 

“How was the wine?”

“If you’re so aware of my every move you’d know I didn’t drink it.”

“Shame, 1913 was supposedly a good year for that merlot.”

“I’m growing tired of our Hannibal Lecter and Clarice dynamic.”

“Who says that’s what we are?”

“WE are nothing.”

A tsk’ing crackled over the line.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Then what are we?”

You put the phone on speaker as you pulled out a container of chinese food leftovers from your fridge. Popping the lid off and shoveling it into a bowl before sliding it into the microwave.

A chuckle came from the other end. You hated how it didn’t feel gross and malicious like it should. 

You continued on, mind listing a slew of options as you watched your food rotate in the microwave.

“Phantom and Christine. Michael Myers and Laurie strode. Billy Loomis and Sidney Prescott.”

“You never did tell me your favorite scary movie.”

you sighed dramatically as the oven dinged and you removed your food, returning it to the counter, pulling your hair into a messy bun.

“You do look stunning Detective. I’m shocked someone of your caliber went into law enforcement.”

“I think it’s unfair you know what I look like and yet Ive never seen you before.”

“Nice try Archer.” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh that shook your shoulders a tad. 

“It was worth a try.”

Walking into work the next morning you were immediately greeted by another detective, John Lawson. His cheeks were ruddy and he seemed to be out of breath.

“What’s going on?”

“We have a photo of our killer.” 

You felt your stomach flip, either from excitement or nerves.

“What?” 

He took out a printed sheet of paper, it showed a dim alleyway and a victim from the other night slumped in the background. 

Sure enough there in the foreground was a man, in a black hoodie, black pants and military boots. The hood pulled up over his head and underneath the hood a stark white mask, covered in a multitude of scratches and cracks that seemed to be painted on.

He was staring straight at the camera, knife glinting in one hand, the other raised in a mock wave.

“Smug bastard.”

[nightfurylover31]

I WIP I did after being inspired by IDW #55 and @starrjoy stunning artwork found here.

“Alright, fox boy! You ready to have some real fun?” Surge threw Tails onto the floor, knocking the Miles Electric out of his hand. He tried to reach for the device, but was stopped as his captor stomped on his back. “Not so fast!”

“Whatever you’re planning, Sonic’s going to stop you!” Even if he was beaten and held hostage, no way was Tails about to show weakness. 

“Hah! Keep telling yourself that, kid! ‘Cause once we’re done here, I won’t be the only one he has to stop.”

That… did not sound good. Tails hated to admit it, but he was starting to get nervous. Surge dragged him by his left tail over to a large computer setup. She flipped him onto his back, pressing her foot on his chest to keep him in place, then proceeded to pull a glove with a strange stone on it. It sort of resembled Starline’s with the Warp Topaz, but different. Surge put it on her left hand, almost disgusted by it.

“This thing… caused us so much pain. I thought it was gone for good when I threw HIS into the fire pit, but it seems he had an extra… Lucky us.” 

With that, she slammed it down on Tails’s face. “Let’s get started!”

———

“So, this is the place?” Sonic asked as he turned to Kit. 

“Y-yes, sir. This is where we… w-where we lived.” The young fennec’s voice was more meek than usual. After Surge took off with Tails, the blue duo chased after them. Honestly, Sonic was surprised Kit stayed with him instead of going back to her. The hedgehog wanted to know if there was anywhere Kit thought Surge would go. This was the only one that came to mind, one of Eggman’s bases in the middle of the desert. 

“Huh. Starline sure made himself comfortable.” As the two made their way into the base, Sonic looked at Kit. “So, tell me again why you two had it out for us? We never met, yet Surge acted like I was her sworn enemy.” 

“W-we were… because… y-you…” Kit mumbled. 

Sonic didn’t understand. He knew the kid was on edge, but he couldn’t make out what he was trying to say. He was more of a nervous wreck than when Sonic first met Tails. Tails…

“Don’t worry,” Sonic reaffirmed. “That whacky doctor won’t bother you again.” The feelings were mixed. Sonic never considered death an option, unless there was no other way, but Starline caused so much trouble. Bringing Eggman back, which led to the Metal Virus, trying to capture Tails, kidnapping Belle, and now whatever he did to Surge and Kit. It must have been bad, but… he was gone now. All that mattered was finding Tails. His little brother was tough and smart. He… he would definitely be alright. 

"Can I ask... why you call Tails your 'brother'?" Kit asked. "You two aren't even the same species. How can that be?"

Sonic shook his head in amusement. "It's true we're not blood, but that doesn't make him any less of a brother to me." Kit turned his head in confusion. "We've been together for years. We both didn't really have anyone before, but when we met, we just clicked. I helped him be more confident in himself, and he's saved my skin more times than I can count. He always has my back, and I can count on him for anything. Because of him... my life changed. I wasn't going it solo anymore, and now I can't imagine my life without him."

"You mean, he's that important to you?"

"More important than anyone else."

Kit led Sonic down the endless hallways. Suddenly, he stopped at one door on the right side. His pale face went paler. He started to shake and breathe heavily, like he was having a panic attack. Was there something in there? 

“Stay here,” the blue hero told Kit. Sonic slowly walked into the room. There were giant test tubes of some sort of green liquid. They were big enough for Sonic to fit in, which made him even more unnerved. His eye caught something on the floor. Papers with sketches and writing on them. “Homing attack,” “Spin dash,” some kind of cycle of him vs Eggman. Why did Starline have all these notes? Sonic then saw more papers on the table. Designs for what looked like Surge and Kit, like different models of them. What struck him the most was was one image of a person with robotic replacements. Just then, the pieces started coming together, and Sonic felt his stomach drop. 

“He... made you?” 

Sonic looked back at Kit, who was now shaking up a storm. His eyes glowing with a horrific gleam. Some of the water was leaking from his pack, swishing around like frantic arms. “H-hurt us… changed us… m-made us forget… to… r-replace you…” 

Finally, Surge’s words before made sense. She blamed Sonic. He admitted didn’t quite understand what she was going on about in their first fight. She was ranting in anger, like throwing a tantrum, so he wasn’t sure what to make of it at the time. Now he did. Starline stole Surge and Kit’s lives, their identities, their freedom… everything for his plan. Sonic was ready to fight tooth and nail to save Tails, but now…

Sonic made his way back, knelt down and placed his hand on the crying fennec. “I’m sorry, Kit. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop him. But he can’t hurt you anymore. And once this is over, the both of you can live however you want.” 

Kit sniffled, wiping the tears from his eyes. “B-both of us?” The water tendrils began to recede.

“We’re going to save Tails, and Surge. She’s important to you too, right?” Kit nodded his head. Sonic ruffled the kid’s hair, stood up, turned his head toward the door at the end of the room, and took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.” 

As if the last area wasn’t “cheery” enough, this room had even more test tubes. Sonic was just relieved they all looked empty. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what being trapped in there was like. 

“Hey! I know you’re watching! We’re here!” Surge came out from behind one of the tubes in front of them in response to Sonic’s voice. She has a cautious air about her, not sure what to expect but ready to fight. “Listen, I don’t want to fight you. Just let Tails go, and we can all walk away.” 

Surge’s attention was more focused on Kit. She slowly clenched her fists, electricity sparking. “After everything we’ve been through… what they��ve done to us… you go and join him?! I TOLD YOU YOU COULD ONLY TRUST ME! I TRUSTED YOU!!!” The anger and hurt in her voice was immense as the lightning she discharged. Sonic could even see some tears forming. She truly felt betrayed. 

Kit hid behind Sonic, cowering in fear and guilt. “I… I didn’t mean…” 

“Don’t be mad at him,” Sonic quickly defended. “He just didn’t know what to do. I was wrong, I thought you didn’t survive the fall from before. If I had… look, just tell me where Tails is. Please. We don’t have to fight.” 

Surge stared at her feet, trying to recompose herself. “Well then…” she turned back with glowing eyes. “Too bad it’s not up to you.” 

Suddenly, something slammed into Sonic, sending him flying to the other side of the room.

“Mr. Sonic!” Kit cried out. 

Sonic tried to pick himself up, holding the side of his head that hit against the wall. As his vision refocused, he saw his attacker. The last person he ever expected. 

“Tails? What are you—“ his sentence was cut off as Surge lunged at his throat. They collided with another wall as her grip tightened. “W-what… did you do?” he gasped. 

“Simple justice,” she cooed with venom in her voice. “You take my sidekick, I take yours.” 

“Tails would never turn against me! Right, little bro?” The fox was silent, stone cold gaze staring back. “Tails…” Sonic faced many horrors in his life, but nothing came close to the dread he felt from what he heard next. 

“I don’t know you.” 

—————

NOTES: I cut out Eggman and the Wisps so I could focus more on these four. I wrote this up before we got the Prime clip of Sonic and Tails, but it made me even more emotional seeing how sad Sonic was when Tails didn’t know who he was. Let alone fight him. Kit's question was a last minute addition, and I think it really makes what happens at the end hit even harder. 😢

Thanks again to @starrjoy for letting me write about her mini AU. 

[thefanfictiontaria]

Upon your return

Fandom: Dreams Of An Insomniac

Genre: hurt/comfort

TW: monster abuse >:[

Characters: Winfrey, Clyde, Dr Lankmann

The moment Winfrey was captured, Clyde went to search for him. As they finally reunite, there's still small problems.

This is filled with headcanons and things inspired by @crystallizedday 's Ao3 fanfic called "Breaking Out" (it's very good, go read it y'all) (also hope you don't mind me pinging you CD-)

================

The monster was wrecking havoc.

Red lights flashed throughout the building, an alarm blaring alongside them. The asylum staff were panicking, the patients screaming and trashing in their rooms.

Clyde was running around the facility, searching. He was close, he knew it. He felt it.

People tried to stop him. Tried shooting. A roar rang out, shaking the walls, knocking people off their feet. He persisted.

He continuously burst through every set of doors, leaving glass shards on the floor. Nobody else could cross their path.

Finally, the last thing keeping him from their partner was a set of titanium doors. They banged and scratched against the metal in an attempt to break it, but...

"It's futile."

A figure stood right behind him. His head was adorned by a top hat and a menacing, unforgettable smile. He was in a lab coat with a name tag, "Dr Lankmann".

"You can't get inside unless you know the code." The man explained, pointing to the number pad. Clyde was getting angrier by the second. "I'm the only one who knows it. You can kill me, but then you won't get to your dear dear friend. Either that, or we can bargain."

"Fine," Clyde spat out. "What do you want?"

"Information. Simply information. I'll ask you three questions, you answer, and then I'll tell you the code." Dr Lankmann's smile widened.

"Well then, ask away."

"Firstly, how did you appear on earth?"

"I don't know. One day we just were here. I know that our god, Six created us."

"Six? Huh... Okay, secondly, to what extent can you modify your own bodies?"

"It depends. Our limbs can go about two meters longer, and the rest is fully dependent on the individual. What else?"

"What happens to the minds you eat?"

"They vanish after some time, but we can use the information from them." The answer seemed to satisfy the doctor. "Now, give me the code." Clyde demanded.

"It's-" he got cut off by a sharp pain going straight through his left lung. He slowly looked down to see a yellow and black striped tail piercing his chest. He coughed up blood. "But... The code..."

"Oh, I'll know it in a minute."

"Why..."

Clyde grinned wide.

"Revenge. You were so fun to play with, humans are so dense." With those words, he devoured the man's mind, quickly finding the code in his memories. He entered it into the pad and the door opened.

There Winfrey was. His limbs and body attached to the wall by multiple shackles. He looked so exhausted. Clyde hurriedly went to get off the cuffs, managing to pick the locks with his claws. There was something on Winfrey's neck that didn't bind him, Clyde shrugged it off for the moment. The second he was free, Winfrey fell to the floor heavily.

"Winfrey! Get up, please! We need to get out of here!" The orange monster exclaimed in a rush. His partner sluggishly got up and started slowly walking to the exit of the chamber. With time, he began running through the halls, Clyde in front of him, leading them both out. People screamed at them in terror. Winfrey swiped at some of them in anger with a roar, but then winced, Clyde looking worriedly. They devoured some of the people's minds and got even more determined to leave.

At last, they found themselves in a forest near the facility. That's when they stopped.

Winfrey sat on the forest bedding, tired from the events. Clyde sat right next. He hugged their partner, at which the bigger flinched a little.

"Oh dear... Winfrey... What have they done to you...?"

Winfrey just hummed in pain and anger. He then winced again, alarming Clyde. At that moment he noticed the device on Winfrey's neck, the one he disregarded before. It was a shock collar.

They managed to get it off, and at that moment Winfrey truly relaxed. He was really free.

He hugged Clyde. The orange monster smiled and returned the gesture.

He closed their eyes, and suddenly Lankmann's memories flashed in his mind. Memories filled with hurting others, hurting their partner. Their grip tightened around Winfrey. Slowly, tears formed in his eyes. A few sobs left Clyde as he gripped onto their partner. He cried. Tears of relief, but also pain. Tears of regret.

"Hey, Clyde... It's okay... I'm here now..." The bigger tried to comfort him.

"I-I know... And I'm happy but... It shouldn't have happened...." Clyde sobbed further.

"Humans are unpredictable. We couldn't have known they found our location. It's not your fault," Winfrey assured.

"B-but-!"

"Shhhh..." He wiped the smaller's cheek. "It is not your fault."

Clyde hiccuped and slowly nodded.

"I-I found us a n-new lair... We should go there..."

"Yeah, let's go."

They ventured further into the forest. After a longer while of travel, they arrived at an abandoned wooden house. It was pretty small, but just big enough to fit the two.

Upon entering, Winfrey concluded it used to be a woodsman's home. It was filled a bit with trash, but mostly a few horn trophies. He also noticed his violin and a few trinkets from their previous lair.

"Welcome to our new home!" Clyde said with a weak smile.

"Where's the nest?"

The orange monster's smile dropped further.

"Well... I just used the bed, since a nest is something you share with another..."

"Give me a minute then." Winfrey ran out and gathered a few branches. He returned and walked towards the bed. He set the branches on the floor, grabbed the mattress, and began arranging the nest. The moment he was finished, he sat in the middle with a welcoming smile.

Clyde immediately leaped into it, cuddling Winfrey close.

"Now this is home."

[darkyanderesworld]

Could i humbly request a parental platonic yandere john ward with a darling who he saved from the cult? Maybe they were going to be used for the profane trinity, but he managed to save them beforehand.

Of course! Spoilers ahead!

Platonic yandere John ward with cult surviver darling

Tw: typical yandere stuf, paranoia, gore/blood mentioned, John needs therapy.

John will most likely meet you during chapter 3. accidentally walking in on the cult, getting ready to perform the ritual. He immediately started to get the cult members away from you.

But it was clear you were still traumatized by everything the cult did, and because you had nowhere to go, John decided to take you in.

John is a paranoid and manipulative yandere, as I don't see him hurting anyone unless they attack him or you first, but thare are exceptions.

At first, things were a little awkward between you two, but John would always make sure that you're alright. Staying right next to you if you want him too

And if he can't be with you, then he'll have you stay with Father Garcia or Lisa. But he doesn't leave you alone for more than a day. Even if he has to fight the cult, he'll always come back to make sure you're alright.

He'll be extremely happy if you have separation anxiety, and he'll definitely enable it. It'll make it easier to keep you with him, and you won't attempt to leave.

He wouldn't let you help fight against the cult no matter how much you tell him you want to, he'll rather die than let you get captured by the cult again.

He views you as his only child, He has already lost his wife, and he won't lose you as well. And if you keep pushing him, he'll guilt trip you so you'll drop the subject.

But if you go behind his back and try to stop the cult yourself........he'll go nuts.

You'll have a few hours until he finds you, he's not alone he has father Garcia and Lisa helping him.

And when he does find you, he'll feel a mix between anger and relief. And that's when you're not going after the cult.

So when he figures out that you were planning on looking into the cult to try and help him, he'll go ballistic, and he'll try his best to get to you even if he has to kill a few people to do so.

He doesn't spare any cult members. He'll hunt each one down if he even thinks that anyone has hurt you.

This'll revamp his paranoia, and he will chain you to your bed when he's not with you and when you're supposed to be sleeping

This behavior will only stop when he finishes off garry for the time being.

Then he'll go back to 'normal', but he'll be more restrictive like he will put a tracking device on you so he'll know where you are so he won't worry as much

He's very affectionate trying to give you the best childhood he can. Just follow the rules, and you'll be spoiled, and if you don't, he'll take away most of your privacy away

[melloianv2]

Click Dr Abe's Laboratory link for info.

the sequel no one asked for, and still rushed art.

was going to animate something but me lazy asf i prob forgor to animate at this point.

this is just the concepts how the game would look like, possibility. don't read this shit if too much mk?

In game

platforming gamemode would exactly how og game looks. Other gamemodes would be in different view angle, all them be the same angle btw.

Its Pizza Time! is called Acid Overflow!! here. Its similar to pizza time, expect when the time runs out, acid has been released, then it starts seeping through the level. If the acid touches you, its a instant game

over. Laps works the same, the acid just restarts but still seeps at the same pace.

how this works with other gamemodes? the same way. the only difference, the level completely changes and not just the route itself.

Secret rooms are in all gamemodes.

Gameovers are in result of starting the whole level ever again.

Gamemover screen have a sound in the background, which is laughing.

Gamemode Explanations

Platforming - plays the same as ptg

Mystery - in a nutshell, solve a mystery throughout the level, finding item, talking to npc, unlocking shit to solves it. you earns points the more closer you solve the mystery. Once the mystery is revealed, the player have to manually activate acid overflow. there is still collectables, material points and materalings to collect.

Riddles/Questions&Answers - Get the correct answer or else. This gamemode just do riddles and questions what else? Every time answer is incorrect, you have play whatever this gamemode offers you to do. If you complete the game, you go to the next question. If you fail, its a gameover instead, If you answer correctly, you proceed to the next question. Once you answered everything correctly, you able to finish the level, beginning the acid overflow. There's only one specific level where you just get a straight up gameover if you answer incorrectly (reason cause its next to a boss level, and this is technically the boss before the battle level.) Each section and next level, the questions get progressively harder. Some questions are timed, which some of them just gets faster.

Escape Room - the point is just escape the level. collects items, unlock shit etc etc to get yo ass out of there. Escape rooms always have a timer to escape. of course if you don't escape on time, game over. Escape rooms can also have chase, as a entity is chasing you or looking for you the level. If you get captured, game over. Once you escape, acid overflow automatically triggers.

In HubWorld

Hubworld will always be in one angle. The hubworld is just where to go to sections and enter levels. The same world were you change your costumes, etc etc. There is were most of the story, cutscene, and others sets place. There's are doors where you cannot enter unless you either unlock it somehow or open to a specific route. There are secret rooms in the hubworld as well. Well really there's a ton things to explore in hubworld then just going to levels.

Shops exist as well. They usually just sell costumes. However, some sell useful stuff, or items for endings/choices related. Some items itself can be collected in hubworld, which all them is story related. You also can talk to the npcs here.

The hubworld changes depending what you did in the game or depending on the route you go. The more recruits you get, the recruits will show up in hubworld.

The tablet is just a device that just checks your stats and achievements. But it also has data, which reveals information in game. There's also tapes and reports, which are collectables in hubworld.

Recruits usually just goes for specific endings. Awhile majority are useless, only 2 is helpful. In order to recruit them, see their quests or other shit idk. Only 2 bosses can be recruited, but its takes longer.

there is music for this au but its like 2 years ago and it sounds like ass trust me you don't want to hear any of it.

I might forgot some shit again...

[sesamestreep]

a little friend-iversary gift 💕

for the amazing, magical @firstelevens: a fic set in her critically acclaimed and universally beloved teachers AU. Thanks for all the good advice and hand holding and 8 hour video calls this past year, and for always generously welcoming me to play around in the sandboxes you build!

The idea starts innocently enough. Well, okay, maybe “innocently” is a bit of a stretch. Sam’s an English teacher; he should know better than to try and make words mean something they don’t. Perhaps the best way to explain it is that he didn’t come up with the idea himself. Everything that comes after is definitely his fault, but the inception of the idea? That can definitely be blamed on his students.

It’s during the period where he’s got study hall that the fateful conversation happens. He normally doesn’t pay attention to what the students chat about as long as they don’t get too loud or rambunctious. He usually has his own work that he needs to get done, and it’s better to just leave them to their own devices rather than micromanage their behavior. But on this particular day, Aida comes in late with a pass from the guidance office and barely responds to Sam’s greeting before she’s sliding into a desk next to her friends and urgently whispering about something to them. That captures his attention pretty effectively. And it’s not his fault that they’re sitting close to his desk, close enough to overhear with minimal effort.

If it had been about other students or personal matters, Sam would have probably checked out immediately and gone back to his work. He makes it his policy not to get overly invested in student gossip, unless someone’s in danger or the student involved comes to him personally to talk about it. This isn’t that. This, it turns out, is faculty gossip.

“Heartbreaking news,” Aida declares somewhat dramatically. 

“Oh, God,” Courtney says, “did something happen with your scholarship application?!”

“What? No. I mean, Mr. Murdock helped me finish it, so it’s, like, all set now, yay! But that’s not the news!”

“What happened?”

“Mr. Murdock BROKE MY HEART!”

Sam’s eyebrows raise at that. Matt’s been working at this school for a few years now and he’s always seemed totally solid in Sam’s opinion. Sam has never once seen him be weird or inappropriate with any student, to the point that Foggy often teases him for being too guarded with them. Most of the students adore him anyway, though, so this conversation is more than a little surprising.

“Oh, here we go,” Courtney says, and Sam doesn’t have to look over to see an eye roll when he can hear one in her tone so clearly. “Aida, you’ve gotta stop listening to every rumor about the teachers here! They’re not all secretly dating or like mysteriously independently wealthy.”

“Yeah, but that thing about Coach Barton LARP-ing in his spare time turned out to be true, though!”

“Okay, good point.”

“Besides, I’m like convinced that Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson are dating.”

“Mr. Nelson wears a ring, dingus,” Bridgit chimes in. 

“And Mr. Murdock doesn’t,” Courtney adds. “Case closed.”

“Listen, I won’t go through all my evidence again,” Aida replies. “Because…I’ve finally seen the light.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Are you feeling alright?!”

“Yes,” Aida says, bravely. “I just came from Mr. Murdock’s office and we were talking about my scholarship applications and that got us talking about how I volunteer at the senior center and I was saying that I was going to help at their Valentine’s Day event this week and then I asked if he was doing anything special for the holiday and…”

“Aida!” Bridgit shrieks “You did not!”

“It’s not that weird to ask!” She pauses for a second, clearly thinking it over. “I mean, is it?”

“It’s so weird. What’s wrong with you?” Courtney says.

“Well, he was more normal about it than either of you. He just said he didn’t have anything special planned, that he’d probably have a chill night in.”

There’s a significant pause, before Bridgit asks, “Sorry, how does this qualify as heartbreaking news exactly?”

“Um, maybe because Kris had a meeting with Mr. Nelson yesterday where he said he was going to cook this big, fancy meal for his partner and said that it was going to take days to prepare?? And Mr. Murdock isn’t doing anything, so they’re obviously not together.”

“We literally already knew that.”

“I didn’t!”

“That’s because you’re delusional,” Courtney says, not quite gently. “And you have a weird parasocial relationship with our guidance counselors.”

“That’s not true! I just thought, based on how they are when they're together at school, they must have something going on outside of it!”

“Despite the fact that one of them wears a wedding ring and references a partner all the time, and one of them doesn’t and refuses to confirm or deny the existence of a significant other at all.”

“Despite the fact that Kamala and Miles totally saw him with a beautiful, blonde woman at a Nationals game that one time.”

“He can have beautiful female friends, you know,” Aida protests. “I stand by that. I was just maybe wrong about him and Mr. Nelson.”

“Listen, everyone knows those two are, like, work married. They’re just not married married for real. There’s no way.”

“Yeah, Mr. Murdock is for sure straight, too.”

“You don’t know that,” Aida replies, defensively. “I mean, not that I’m speculating, but you can’t know. Not for sure. He’d never talk about that.”

“No, of course not, but like…he is. Just look at him!”

“That’s offensive,” Aida sniffs. “You can’t tell anyone’s sexuality by looking at them!”

“Sometimes you can.”

“Yeah, some people are just so straight, you know?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Aida says, sliding down further into her chair. “No one understands the depth of my despair.”

“Penny told me that she doesn’t even think Mr. Murdock’s met Mr. Nelson’s partner.”

“That’s crazy! Even if they’re not dating, they’re like besties, right?”

“Maybe it’s just at work,” Courtney says. “Maybe they’re indifferent to each other in real life.”

“I guess I just always imagined like, even if they were dating other people, they still like hung out together outside of school, you know?”

Bridgit snorts. “If I was dating a guy and he was that close to his co-worker, I don’t think I’d want them hanging out outside of school, to be honest.”

Aida gasps. “God, you’re so right. Their partners must be so jealous!”

Next to her, Courtney sighs in frustration. “I feel like you almost learned a lesson about not getting too obsessed with other people’s personal lives there and then you went right back to making shit up again.”

“What? I was just saying, hypothetically, if they are dating other people, it must be weird!”

“Yeah, okay. I need help with my Calc homework, if you’re done being creepy about the faculty here.”

The conversation obviously loses Sam’s interest there, but he spends the rest of the day thinking about it, formulating a plan that he can only call, well, evil.

*

“I have a really, really stupid idea,” he says to Bucky later, while he’s grading papers on the couch and Bucky is frowning at the saucepan he’s got on the stove. “And I need you to talk me out of it.”

Bucky looks up at that to frown at Sam instead. Luckily, frowning at things is kind of Bucky’s love language, so Sam isn’t worried.

“When have I ever successfully talked you out of anything, Sam?” he asks, amusement peaking through in his tone and the way he tilts his head. “I don’t think I’m the man for the job.”

Sam sighs and tells him the whole study hall gossip saga anyway, which just ends with Bucky looking even more confused and concerned.

“God,” he says, rubbing his forehead, “you don’t think they talk about us like that, do you?”

“Oh, I’m sure they say worse about us,” Sam replies, feeling both pity for Bucky’s poor nerves and amusement at his innocence. “I’m sure they say worse about Matt and Foggy, honestly. This was probably on the tame end.”

Bucky considers this for a moment. “You know, I’ve heard students talking about Matt having a girlfriend before, or a wife or whatever, and how she must hate how close he is with Foggy. I didn’t know this was a thing, though. I just thought it was two students being crazy, you know?”

“Oh, no. There’s lore. And it’s been getting more intense since Foggy came back from break with a wedding ring. The kids have been going bonkers over it. They’re convinced there’s some mystery afoot.”

Bucky shakes his head. “We might need to give them more homework, if they have the time to come up with this stuff.”

Sam stifles a laugh at that. “Or at least a unit on creative writing so they can get this kind of thing out of their systems.”

“These are all good ideas, though,” Bucky says, with a small smile. “So I don’t understand what your bad one is. You want me to talk you out of giving these kids detention? Or telling Foggy what you overheard?”

“God, no! Nothing that sensible. I told you it was a stupid idea, Buck. Remember?”

“It’s apparently so stupid that I can’t even conceive of it, based on what I know now.”

“I want to fan the flames a little,” Sam admits, only slightly embarrassed to own up to such a thing in front of his boyfriend.

“Fan the flames…how exactly?”

“Listen,” Sam sighs, as he pushes himself up to a seated position, “I know I’m supposed to be a grown up about this stuff, but Foggy gave me so much shit when you and I were…”

“Dancing around each other for the better part of a year?” Bucky suggests, with a smile.

“I was going to say ‘figuring our stuff out’, but sure, that works too,” Sam says. “I just want to give him a little grief back.”

“You still haven’t told me your plan, you know,” Bucky says, knowingly. 

“I—” Sam starts to say and then pauses. “I just want to remind you, before I explain this, that you love me and you think I’m a cool, mature person most of the time.”

“Well, half of that’s true.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him. “It better be the first half!”

Bucky smiles. “It is. Proceed.”

Once Sam is done explaining the plan, he fully expects to see Bucky standing there, hands on his hips, frowning in a classic disappointed dad pose. Sam also expects that will be all it takes to talk him out of this, that another adult’s disapproval is all he needs to act like an adult himself. What he’s not expecting is for Bucky to open and close his mouth a few times and clearly struggle with what to say first. Sam’s at the point of formulating an apology and maybe, you know, fleeing the country in embarrassment, when Bucky finally speaks up.

“I don’t know how to say this right, Sam, like in a way that conveys the depths of my love and admiration for you, but I guess…do you want my credit card?”

Sam beams, and does not tell Bucky to return anything he’s bought for him in preparation for Valentine’s Day because this is all he’ll ever need, but he does think it. He thinks it very much.

*

Sam wishes he could say that his own childish antics didn’t fully distract him when Valentine’s Day comes around, but he’d definitely be lying. He’s giddy to the point of antsy to hear what happens, as a matter of fact, and, luckily for him, he has study hall on the day in question. He trusts the students who started this all will be able to give him some updates, at the very least.

Aida doesn’t disappoint. She sprints into Sam’s classroom just as the bell is ringing, towing Bridgit behind her, and basically Tokyo drifts into her seat next to Courtney.

“Oh my GOD,” she whisper-shouts while trying to catch her breath. “You will not believe what Bridgit and I just heard!”

“What is it?” Courtney asks, not sounding that intrigued despite the theatrics.

“Mr. Nelson’s spouse sent him this huge bouquet of roses—”

“Like freaking enormous,” Bridgit interjects.

“Yeah, like, whatever you’re thinking of for a massive bouquet of roses, think bigger,” Aida says. “Anyway, he got this ridiculous floral arrangement delivered to the school and it took up, like, his whole desk and everyone in the office is giving him such a hard time about it, because it’s just so much, and now he’s giving away roses to everyone!”

“Ew, he gave you a rose?” Courtney asks, horrified.

“No, not students,” Aida replies, affronted. “He’s giving them to the staff and stuff. Although I heard there’s a small arrangement of them at the front desk and they were letting students take from there, if they wanted. But I only know about it because Nurse Palmer had like four of them in a little cup in her office when I went to see her.”

“Oh my god, why were you at the nurse?!”

“She got smacked in the head with a volleyball in gym,” Bridgit supplies. “Again.”

“My peripheral vision sucks, okay? I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Fine. Why is Mr. Nelson giving away the flowers? Won’t his partner be mad?”

“Nurse Palmer told me that he can’t bring the flowers home because he said his cat would just attack them and make a mess.”

“Aren’t roses toxic to cats?”

“No, that’s lilies,” Bridgit says, wisely. 

“Still,” Courtney says, scandalized, “I feel like his partner would know that! Why would they send him flowers he can’t bring home?”

“I don’t know,” Aida replies, smugly. “Maybe they just wanted to remind a certain co-worker of his that he’s taken…”

“Oh my god! Not this again!”

“Well! It’s like you said, his partner would know that their cat would destroy the flowers! So, clearly, the flowers were never meant to make it home! It was obviously all for show!”

“Sending your partner flowers to their place of work always is,” Courtney says, darkly. 

“So petty,” Bridgit agrees.

“I like flowers,” Aida objects, pulling a notebook out of her backpack hesitantly.

“There’s nothing wrong with flowers! It’s the method of delivery that I find tacky.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess.”

“How did Mr. Murdock take it?”

“I don’t know,” Aida says. “I haven’t been to the office today.”

“I think my lab partner Gabe has a meeting with him this afternoon,” Bridgit adds. “I should tell him to snoop.”

“Oh my god,” Aida coos, delightedly.

“You’re both maniacs,” Courtney says.

“Oh, yeah, like you’re not a little curious! Be for real!”

“I’m not! I don’t care about this at all!”

“Okay, so if Gabe finds out anything, I shouldn’t tell you?”

There’s a meaningful pause while Sam is turned away, pretending to look through his file cabinet. “I mean, obviously you should tell me,” Courtney grumbles. “But only because I like to be included.”

“Right, of course,” Aida says.

Sam finishes with the pretend business he had with the filing cabinet and turns back towards his desk. “Hey, Courtney,” he says, feigning casualness. “You got that big game against Horizons this week, right?”

“Yeah, it’s Friday, Mr. Wilson,” she replies.

“How’s the team feeling?”

“Okay,” she says. “I think we’re ready but, you know, they’re having a good season, so…could go either way.”

“I hear ya,” he says, settling back down at his desk. “Well, good luck!”

“Thanks!”

“Mr. Wilson, have you been by the main office today?” Aida asks, sweetly, and if he hadn’t been anticipating it, he might have missed the wide-eyed look Bridgit shoots her immediately afterwards, but he doesn’t. He does catch it, though, and enjoys it immensely.

“Not since first thing this morning when I came in,” Sam replies, innocently. “Why?”

“I heard they’re giving out roses.”

Sam schools his features into a mildly perplexed look. “Roses? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Aida says. “One of the teachers or someone got a bouquet delivered for Valentine’s Day or something?”

“Huh,” Sam replies, channeling his inner Angela Bassett and turning in what he hopes is an Oscar-worthy performance. “You know, maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always thought sending someone flowers at their place of work for Valentine’s Day is a little…much.”

“Totally,” Bridgit agrees.

“I was just saying,” Courtney adds, pleased.

“Are you doing anything special for the holiday, Mr. Wilson?” Aida asks, matching Sam’s faux-innocence with some of her own.

“Besides spending my day with the best students in the world, you mean?” he asks, all charm.

“Yeah,” Aida says, with a discreet eye roll in her friends’ direction. “I meant besides that.”

“Nothing much, really. I’ll probably go get a rose from the main office, though, since you gave me the tip on that and since no one bothered to send me any flowers at work.”

The girls all exchange an unimpressed look at that, which mostly tells him that they save gossiping about his personal life for when they are, mercifully, not in his classroom. All things considered, he appreciates the restraint.

*

Sam is still cleaning what remains of his last class’s lesson off the whiteboard (because several students lingered behind to ask him questions about their assignments that he definitely answered in the handout for it that he gave them already) when he hears a knock on the doorframe of his classroom. He turns to find Foggy leaning there with a single red rose in his hand.

“Hey there, Romeo,” Sam calls. “How can I help you?”

“Sam Wilson,” Foggy says, too earnestly, as he approaches, “will you accept this rose?”

“Oh, thank God,” Sam replies, as he reaches out to take it. “I was dreading having to debrief with Chris Harrison after this, if you didn’t pick me.”

“How could I not? After all, I believe I have you to thank for making today one of the weirdest days of my life.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam says, twirling the stem between his fingers.

“Really? You mean to tell me you’re not responsible for sending me a frankly absurd amount of roses with a note that implied I’d always be your sugar plum?”

“The note was meant to say outright that you’d always be my sugar plum, Foggy. I hope the kid at the flower shop accurately captured my vision. I certainly paid enough for it!”

Foggy shakes his head, smiling. “I still don’t know what you were up to with this, Sam, but it must have cost you a fortune.”

“Well, I figured that your no-good husband would never shower you with lavish gifts at work and I thought you deserved something nice.”

“Listen, I know I’ve been upping my skincare game lately, but I don’t think I look good enough to pass for having been born yesterday,” Foggy says. “What’s your angle?”

“I still can’t believe you knew it was me.”

“It has the trademark Sam Wilson charm all over it.”

Sam smiles and leans against the edge of his desk. “I didn’t really embarrass you that bad, did I?”

“Only a little,” Foggy replies. “I assume I did something to deserve it.”

“Yeah, you made the mistake of befriending me in grad school and staying in contact ever since.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a rookie move, for sure.”

“And you didn’t invite me to your wedding.”

“No one was invited to my wedding! We got married at City Hall!”

“A likely story.”

“If you’re really upset about that, you’re going to have to get in line,” Foggy says. “My mom is definitely more annoyed at me than you are.”

“It wasn’t that, don’t worry. The kids in my study hall were just gossiping again,” Sam adds, finally dropping the bit. “About how Matt’s girlfriend and your partner are probably jealous of your bromance.”

“God, these kids,” Foggy laughs, shaking his head. “Couldn't you assign them more homework or something?”

“Bucky and I are on it.”

“Thanks.”

“Some of it’s on you for just showing up for the new semester with a wedding ring and no explanation, you know.”

Foggy sighs. “I know, but it’s always weird finding the line with students. I don’t care what they know about my personal life, but I don’t want to find out I overshared when it’s too late and I’ve got some upset parent emailing me about how I’m setting a bad example for their kid by implying I date sometimes.”

“Well, your dating days are done, at least,” Sam says, sympathetically.

“Yes, but my gay marriage days are just beginning, which is a whole new can of worms.”

“True enough,” Sam replies. “Hey, if you learn anything about navigating this kind of thing, be sure to report back to the rest of us.”

“Why is that, Sam? You got gay marriage on your mind for some reason?”

Sam feels his face heat. “Shut up,” he says. “This whole situation today was supposed to give me a reprieve from you being smug about my love life for once.”

“There’s nothing on earth that could stop me being smug about that, sweetheart, but I applaud you for trying.”

“Applaud Bucky too,” Sam replies. “He footed the bill for this overture.”

“Did he?” Foggy asks, sounding reluctantly impressed. “Well, I hope you two weren’t saving up for anything important, because these flowers probably bankrupted him.”

“We’ll manage. Consider it a wedding present from us.”

Foggy nods, absently. “You know, speaking of Bucky…sorry, I actually don’t know the right way to say this…”

Sam feels himself tense. Even though he trusts Bucky completely and is happier with him than he can remember being with anyone else, the look on Foggy’s face is giving him pause. What if Foggy’s about to say he’s never actually liked Bucky? What if something happened to him and Sam somehow hadn’t heard? That seems pretty unlikely, but it’s not like Foggy to be cagey about anything.

“What is it?” Sam asks, pretending as hard as he can to be normal.

“It’s just—and maybe this isn’t my place to say, but—I just think, if Bucky’s not meeting your needs and you feel the need to act out like this, well, I have to say something—”

Sam sputters as he tries not to laugh and fails miserably. “Goddammit, Foggy!”

“I’m just saying, if you’re not feeling satisfied, I’d be happy to take him aside and give him a few pointers, you know, maybe point out a few erogenous zones he’s never heard of…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sam replies, getting himself under control.

“I know it would be an awkward conversation,” Foggy says, hand to heart, “but you’re my friend and I’d do it for your sake.”

“Thanks, man. That’s really too kind of you. But why don’t you save that mojo for your husband?”

“Well, not to brag, but I’m doing well enough in that department that he doesn’t feel the need to send people prank bouquets just to start rumors about them.”

“I bet he wouldn’t even be able to find the time to think of it honestly.”

“Nope,” Foggy replies. “He’s far too sexually satisfied for such puerile pranks.”

Sam snorts. “I’m also perfectly satisfied, thank you!”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Sam says, just as another knock sounds on his door. “Come in!”

“Hey, Sam,” Matt says, as he enters. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries. Foggy was just insulting my boyfriend’s lovemaking skills.”

“Sounds about right,” Matt replies, coming to stand next to Foggy. “You ready to head out?”

“If you are,” Foggy says, and Matt inclines his head. “Thanks again for all the unnecessary drama, Sam.”

“You’re so welcome, Foggy. Happy Valentine’s Day to you and your mysterious, jealous partner and to Matt’s beautiful, blonde girlfriend.”

Matt’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “My what?”

“Some woman a couple of students saw you with at a Nationals game, apparently,” Sam says. “I didn’t even know you liked baseball.”

“I can take it or leave it, honestly,” Matt says, “but Karen loves it, so we went to a game when she was in town.”

“Oh, okay,” Foggy says, comprehension dawning. “I heard that one too and I could not for the life of me figure out who they were talking about.”

“You were at that conference and your flight home got delayed,” Matt supplies. 

“Right. Lucky me.”

“You fared better than the Nationals did, at least,” Matt says.

“Though, that’s not a high bar to clear,” Sam adds.

Matt acknowledges that with a tilt of his head. “True enough,” he says. “That’s really where that rumor came from?”

“Apparently. Unless you’ve been cavorting around town with multiple beautiful, blonde women.”

“Not that I know of,” Matt says. “Though, you’re blond, right, Foggy?”

“Yes, and in the right light, I can be mistaken for a beautiful woman.”

“I can’t tell if that’s the sort of comment I should agree or disagree with to avoid insulting you.”

“And they say keeping the mystery alive in your marriage is difficult,” Foggy replies, with an arch look in Sam’s direction.

“Hey, is that why Matt refuses to wear his ring at school?” Sam asks. “Just to keep everyone guessing? Or is it something like how some couples will pretend not to know each other at parties and pick each other up as if they’re strangers?”

“Sure, let’s go with that and not the fact that Matt keeps conveniently forgetting to get his ring resized.”

Matt frowns. “I resent the implication that I’m deliberately avoiding it for no apparent reason.”

“Matt, it’s been like two months!”

“And I’m very easily distracted!”

Foggy sighs. “You see what I have to deal with?”

“This is why I sent you flowers,” Sam replies. “To remind you that you have options.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Matt says, darkly. “I’ll get the ring re-sized this weekend, I promise.”

“Well, actually, you might do better to wait,” Sam says. “Just think of how many idiot boyfriends are going to propose tonight without checking their girlfriend’s ring size beforehand. Jewelers are going to be busy for a few weeks from that alone.”

“That’s a good point,” Matt replies, thoughtfully.

“Why are you discouraging him?” Foggy asks, desperately. “Haven’t you interfered in my relationship enough for one day?”

“Foggy, you and Matt could get matching neon signs installed over your heads that say ‘happily married’ and the students would still think you’re seeing other people. A wedding ring on Matt’s finger is not going to do the trick.”

“Yeah, you’re right. In fact, it’s almost like I don’t care at all what the students say about my love life. I’d just like the man I love to wear the damn ring I bought him.”

“It’s actually because he wants other people to stop hitting on me at the grocery store when he’s like two feet away,” Matt says, leaning into Foggy’s side in an obvious bid for attention, which Foggy immediately indulges by putting his arm around Matt’s shoulders. 

Sam snorts and then feels bad about it. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Let’s just say I mostly go grocery shopping by myself these days,” Foggy says. “The masses cannot be trusted around Matt and his beautiful face.”

“You’re a brave man, Foggy Nelson.”

“For what? Going grocery shopping alone? Or being in love with Matt?”

“Both,” Sam replies.

“The dangers of marrying up,” Foggy says, and Matt elbows him immediately for it. “Someone ought to warn Bucky.”

“Hey now,” Sam warns, but he ruins the effect by laughing. “Bucky’s very handsome.”

“And you’re stunning! You’re a literal earth angel, Sam! They wrote that song about you!”

“Damn, if I’d known all it took to get these kinds of compliments from you was a floral arrangement, I’d have splurged years ago.”

“Sure, I go to one baseball game with a female friend and the rumor that I have a girlfriend persists for a year,” Matt says, grouchily, “but you guys talk like this all the time to each other and there’s no rumors about you two dating.”

“That’s true,” Sam concedes. “It is kind of weird, now that you mention it.”

“It’s because there’s no drama there,” Foggy says. “Sam and Bucky get rumors because there’s tension. They’re in the same department. You and me get rumors because there’s the potential for scandal. Me and Sam, our relationship is too pure to speculate about.”

“Too pure? Did I not just walk in on you offering to give his boyfriend sex tips a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, you did,” Foggy says, unapologetic. “And I stand by that offer, by the way. It could help!”

“No, thank you,” Sam replies, firmly. “As I said, save that energy for Matt.”

“Yeah, save that energy for me,” Matt says, giving Foggy a significant look. “And don’t think I missed that ‘marrying up’ comment a while back. I heard it and we’re going to discuss it in the car.”

Foggy sighs. “This is what I get for marrying a guidance counselor.”

Sam smiles at him. “Good thing you love him, huh?”

“A very good thing,” Foggy says. “Otherwise these persistent rumors about how he’s got a beautiful model girlfriend at home because he’s so straight would really get me down.”

“A beautiful model girlfriend who’s insanely threatened by his relationship to you, though.”

“Good point.”

“Well, I hope you and Bucky didn’t spend all your money on flowers for my husband,” Matt says. “That would make your own Valentine’s Day plans pretty bleak.”

Sam laughs. “We’re not literally bankrupt, don’t worry.”

“Just morally, then,” Foggy replies.

“Yeah. And my only regret is that you couldn’t even take the flowers home. Seems a waste. Ziggy would really go after them?”

“Oh, Ziggy would take any flowers or plants in the apartment as an act of warfare,” Foggy says.

“We tried to bring home a fern once,” Matt adds, looking haunted. “Didn’t survive the night.”

“He still hasn’t forgiven me for bringing Matt home,” Foggy says, shaking his head.

“My bad,” Sam says, considering the rose in his hand and thinking how Alpine would feel about it. After a moment of consideration, he realizes he’s getting a little ahead of himself and banishes the thought to the back of his mind.

“Honestly, it might have been more fun distributing them to everyone here than it would have been to just keep them at our house,” Foggy says, with a shrug. “Really got me in the spirit.”

“You’re welcome, then.”

“I still don’t know if I’d go so far as to thank you for it.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam replies. “I was talking to Matt.”

“I’m welcome?” Matt asks, perplexed. “For what, exactly?”

“Getting your husband in the Valentine’s Day spirit,” Sam says, with a wink.

“Sam just winked at you,” Foggy adds, for Matt’s benefit.

“Makes sense.”

“I believe he’s trying to imply that any sex we’ll be having tonight is his doing.”

“I’m following, Foggy. Thank you.”

“Little does he know—”

“We really should be going,” Matt says, grabbing Foggy by the arm. “Have a good night, Sam.”

“And remember: my offer to give Bucky some pointers is always open,” Foggy calls over his shoulder as Matt drags him bodily from the room. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says, waving them both off.

Once they’re gone, he focuses his attention back on cleaning up his classroom and getting his things together, which takes only a few more minutes. When that’s done, he shuts off the lights and closes the door behind him before making his way down the hallway to Bucky’s classroom.

Pausing in the doorway, he sees Bucky glaring at something on his laptop screen, which probably means he got a parent email right as he was trying to wrap up for the day and it fully derailed his routine. Sam knocks on the doorframe twice with no response before letting himself in. Once he’s standing next to Bucky’s desk, still without being noticed, he pokes him in the shoulder to get his attention.

Bucky does a comical double take, as if he can’t believe Sam is actually there, and then very clearly takes in the time on the clock on the wall and realizes how long he’s been distracted. Then, he notices the rose in Sam’s hand.

“Don’t tell me I have a rival for your affections,” he jokes, even as the scowl doesn’t fully disappear from his face.

“Of course not,” Sam smiles. “This is for you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. The last remains of our little Valentine’s Day gift to Foggy.”

“Oh,” Bucky replies, taking the rose gingerly from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Sam says, grandly, trying to put his dumb feelings into nice words. “There’s, uh, nobody I’d rather do stupid, immature shit with than you.”

Bucky puts a hand to his chest. “Honestly, Sam, if you make me cry at work…”

“That will be on you for still being at work at this hour.”

“You’re still here too!”

“Waiting for you,” Sam fires back. “And on Valentine’s Day, no less!”

Bucky sighs, but closes his laptop anyway. “Alright, you win. This will keep. Let’s go home.”

“At last he sees sense!”

Bucky stands up and starts packing his things into his bag. “Did Foggy enjoy the flowers, at least?”

“Apparently, he got a lot of shit from the faculty for being the recipient of such an obvious and desperate romantic gesture. And our efforts were aided by Ziggy, who apparently doesn’t tolerate any plants in the house, which means Foggy had to give away the flowers and it only added to the supposed drama according to the students.”

“What a tangled web,” Bucky replies, shaking his head as he throws on his jacket.

“He said to thank you for the mild humiliation and the bankruptcy you risked to achieve it,” Sam says, and leaves out the other stuff Foggy said about Bucky for now. That’s more of an ‘at home’ conversation.

“Oh, I’m always happy to torment people with you, Sam. It was truly my pleasure!”

“Well, the feeling is mutual.”

Bucky pauses as he’s hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder, looking serious again. “I mean it, you know. What you said before, about how there’s no one you’d rather do stupid stuff with…?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“There’s no one I’d rather do anything with than you,” Bucky says, earnestly. “I hope you know that.”

Sam smiles, even though the feeling swirling in his chest right now is not precisely happy or amused, but rather everything mixed together. Happy and amused and overwhelmed and confused and delighted and scared and…well, everything.

“Now who’s trying to make someone cry at work?” he asks, rather than admit to any of that. Yet another ‘at home’ conversation.

“You’re right,” Bucky acquiesces, with a small smile. “Let’s get out of here, so we can cry as much as we want.”

“Romantic,” Sam quips, barely holding back his own smile or the still very possible tears. “Home, then?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, looking right at him. “Home.”

[a-noone]

Klingon Teeth

It's astonishing to me how difficult it is to find information about the connection between the morphology of teeth and diet. Largely because it is clogged up by people arguing over the 'natural' human diet.

The reason I am interested in it is because Klingon biology doesn't make any sense, and I'm trying to think about how I might redesign them, If I were to do that.

Of course, up until recently, "Klingon teeth" were just dirty, gappy, and had inflamed gums, like maybe Klingons didn't have dentistry. Even Michael Dorn, playing Worf, did not consistently wear tooth prosthetics unless we were meant to feel disquiet at his alienness.

As with Spock's bowl cut, Klingon tooth grime is apparently genetic?

But with Discovery, we suddenly had a thesis about Klingon teeth, and while it looked cool, it honestly makes no sense to me.

Oops all molars?

These teeth are carnassials, used like scissors, to cut and shear meat. But oddly, Klingons lack front canine teeth, which would be used for holding onto prey so that it doesn't escape.

Rather, their teeth seem to suggest that they did a whole lot of shearing of flesh and not a lot of capturing. Anyone who has a cat or dog has probably observed the other purpose of these specialized molars -- crunching on bones. That purpose, however, requires the chomping power and leverage that you can't really get if the carnassial-style tooth is a front tooth.

I'm not going to make too much of the small fructivore-shape mouths, because, of course, Klingons are played by human actors, and there's only so much you can do.

I will ask, however, whether the shape of Klingon teeth is actually fixed, or whether they might continuously grow, requiring sharpening, cosmetic shaping, and filing.

If your teeth are not continuously growing, you wouldn't file them like that. In fact, if Klingons do have constantly-growing, peg-like teeth that they style with tooth-filing devices, as shown, it suddenly makes the inconsistency of Worf's teeth not an inconsistency any more than a change in facial hair.

Also, Klingons evolved from this:

Both this form-factor, and the Klingon pain rituals, indicates that the animal Klingons evolved from had a "hunker down, don't move, don't flinch, and wait for the predator to leave" survival strategy.

The most similar Earth animal to that Klingon predecessor?

[mitzymossy33]

So this is Eliza, a character I made based on a dream I had last night.

So yesterday I had a headache, so I went to go lay down. Soon enough I conked out and had the dream. Basically it was a post-apocalyptic world, in which there was an electric dome, inside said electric dome remained the last of civil society, anything could leave, but nothing could come in. All the other humans outside surviving that were in the vicinity would scavenge through the Dome’s trash that was dumped outside and maybe, maybe they would find something good. But enough with the outside world, inside the dome, in the very center, there was a laboratory. And in this laboratory they took in 6-10 children from inside the dome. Their objective was to genetically modify these kids to make them super humans and to use them as military weapons in the apocalypse. Basically, Eliza, or the character in the picture, was the fourth one recruited, and the only one to survive. A few of the other kids died in the genetic enhancement, being too much for their bodies, some died during physical tests and training, others were released because they weren’t fit, all of these were labelled as “dropouts”, until Eliza was the last one left. Not even she knows how she managed to survive, perhaps it was out of pure luck, because in terms of strength she wasn’t much different from the other kids. The initial plan for the lab was to get more recruits but there was a problem. Basically, she wants out of the laboratory. She’s tired of being cooped up, she’s ran every training module or test at least five times, and she hates the lab for what they did to the other kids, so she at least wants a few days outside lab to explore and live a little, if not permanently. She managed to escape the lab and was hiding somewhere in the dome, until she was found and brought back, she assumed maybe someone spotted her and reported her to the lab. So the the second time she attempted escaping she went deep into the dome’s forest, the one area where no one is, and made sure no one watched her. She got tracked down again and thought maybe she had some form of tracking device on her. And the third time she escaped, I kid you not, she considered burying herself alive to try to cut off the transmitter or at last hide of sight (this was according to the dream), but unfortunately she realized that even as a superhuman she’s probably suffocate unless she’d be able to hold her breath for super long. So she was dragged back once again. She soon snuck into an off-limits room where info was held about the kids, among other things, where she reads a bit about the other kids and herself. She soon found something about tracking devices, which told her that the tracking devices would only work inside the vicinity of the dome. This was something. But there was an issue, she doesn’t really know much about the outside of the dome, other than it’s wildly dangerous, there’s no one inside that could tell her due to nobody going outside the dome. She weighed her two options. She could stay in her safe life at the dome in exchange for being a literal military weapon, or she could risk life and limb by going outside the dome, never being able to return, for the sake of her freedom. She chose the latter. So she bided her time, made sure they thought that she was done running away, that they trusted her again, and when no one expected it, she ran. She beelined straight for the barrier of the dome, now, the dome is decently big, it’s enough to hold and small city of people, but if you ran for a good while you could make it, and none of the robots there could outrun a human. While guards surely tried capturing her, she easily punched her way through, until she made it. She sighed and slowly walked through the dome…. Leaving her old life forever….

TLDR: Lab in dome genetically modifies kids to be super humans, only one survives. The one that survives escapes.

Anyways this dream was proof that I can’t get a break from writing even while asleep lol

[mpc-unofficial]

Results from the pelipper mail experiment

Hello Rotomblr! As you guys probably know, me and Kalani were conducting a couple of experiments on Pelipper mail functionality on this site. The following are our findings.

1. Yes, you can pelipper mail pretty much anything you can get your hands on over pelipper mail, including yourself. According to data from other accounts, emotions and abstract concepts work as well, but I’ve no idea on how to even capture them, let alone pack them for pelipper mail travel.

2. If you have pelipper mail on multiple devices (same account), you can mail yourself across the multiverse to wherever your other account holders are.

3. You can pelipper mail yourself to Multispace coordinates and back if you know how to use Multispace coordinates. It basically acts as a instant teleportation device no matter where in the multiverse you are. UNLESS

4. You are in a shadow nest. You can pelipper mail things into a shadow nest, but you cannot pelipper mail anything out. (At the very least, this applies to Ordell. Further research is needed on other shadow nests in existence.)

5. Pelipper mail automatically opens universal rifts. No conditions are required to open a universal rift into a universe no matter how far away it is or what rules it has. This is very intriguing, as our current devices at the MPC that are specially catered to opening these rifts still have requirements they have to follow in order to open a rift.

6. Pelipper mail is way too powerful. Who the heck even managed to invent this???

There are definitely a lot of uses for this though. For one, it makes transport in Multispace a lot quicker. If we implement this well, we may be able to save more pokemon stuck in Multispace by getting them the treatment they need faster.

Yes, I am referencing the gogoat incident. He’ll be fine after a few days of rest and recovery, but Kalani’s still panicking over him. I can’t blame them though, we’ve had… a couple of close calls at this center before and...

Ok, now I’m panicking slightly myself, even while I know the gogoat would be fine in a few days.

Probably...

[sylvienerevarine]

as you may recall, I have a very good headcanon that the dwemer invented cameras. this is simply a fact. now, for some reason, i have written a fic about it, featuring Master Neloth, my dragonborn Sophrine, and some other fabulous friends.

(shoutout to @libertineangel who inspired me with a few headcanon additions)

---

Many years earlier–too many to count, really–Master Neloth had been a teacher of magic. His students had been gifted young mages from high-ranking Morrowind families, all of whom had passed a series of excruciatingly hard exams, and every one of them had driven Neloth out of his mind. Talented they might have been, but they were utterly impossible to deal with, particularly on any educational expeditions. 

On the island of Solstheim, trekking through the vast Dwemer ruin of Nchardak, Neloth was feeling a distressing sense of deja vu. This time, however, his companions were not gifted (if irritating) Telvanni youths. 

They were much, much worse.

“What do you think the Dwemer ate?” came a shrill female voice from behind him. This one was Sophrine Aulette, the Breton chef who called herself the Dragonborn. More like the dragging born, the way she dragged everyone along behind her, Neloth thought, allowing himself a quiet chuckle at his own joke. If she hadn’t been a descendant of the Nerevarine, he’d probably have turned her to stone by now.

“I mean, they lived in these underground cities, right?” Sophrine went on. “Not so easy to grow vegetables this far down. There’s always mushrooms, which are delicious, but that’s hardly a balanced diet. Unless they had very good greenhouses.”

“I still don’t like these types of ruins.” That was one of the Nord women–Neloth couldn’t remember which was which, and frankly, he didn’t much care. “Have I ever told you how I almost died in a place just like…”

“Yes,” chorused several voices.

As the little crew began bickering about how many times, exactly, they’d heard that same story, Neloth sighed and began subtly inching toward the nearest door. Perhaps he could find the book and make his way back to Tel Mithryn without participating in any more inane conversations.

“Master Neloth?” called Sophrine from across the room, before he could make his escape. “Could you come here, please? We’ve found something interesting.”

Neloth rolled his eyes and made his way over to the group, who were gathered around some sort of cube on legs. “What is it?”

“That’s what we were hoping you would tell us,” said Serana. She was an interesting one, now. A vampire, and older than the hills, yet she traveled around with a group of nosy vagrants. “We think it might be some sort of light fixture, but none of us have seen anything like it before.”

“Let me see that.” Neloth bent down to inspect the artifact, frowning. It consisted of a box on a three-legged stand, with a latch on the back and a small cylinder projecting out of the front. At the cylinder’s end was a highly polished glass lens, still without a crack after all these years.

“By Azura,” he said in awe. “It’s a camera.”

“A camera!” exclaimed Sophrine. “Of course! Wait, what’s a camera?”

“A singularly ingenious device. I’d thought they were all lost long ago. Look here, children.” Neloth unlatched the back of the cube, all annoyance forgotten. “You may not believe it, but with this machine, the Dwemer were able to capture a person’s likeness in a fraction of the time it would take a painter.”

“So it makes pictures?” The dark-haired Nord woman–Lydia, her name was–eyed the camera suspiciously. “What sort of magic could do that?”

“No magic at all. Simply a bit of clever engineering. They would take a small plate of brass–like this one! My goodness, one’s survived! They’d take this plate and treat it with a liquid that made it sensitive to light, and place it here in the camera. The subject would sit in front of this lens for a minute or two, and once the plate was removed and treated with a cinnabar solution, you’d have a fine picture more true-to-life than anything from a paintbrush.”

“I say, that’s clever,” remarked the Dunmer fellow named Teldryn. “A fellow could make a fine living selling these metal portraits. I don’t suppose you could get it working again, old man?”

“My name is not ‘old man,’ and no. Not unless those particular chemicals are still available somewhere in here.”

Serana nudged him gently and pointed to a nearby shelf stocked with an assortment of small, dusty bottles. “I think, Master Neloth, we may be in luck.”

---

“Hold still, you lot,” Neloth called. “Or this ‘commemorative portrait’ will come out an utter mess.”

“It’s been about twenty minutes,” complained Mjoll. “My feet are beginning to fall asleep.”

“It’s been thirty seconds. This should be complete in about five…four…”

“Wait!” Sophrine interrupted. “Everyone, say cheese.”

“Why?”

“It automatically makes you smile! Go on, try it!”

And, for no reason Neloth could discern, all five grinned widely and called out: “Cheese!”

A few minutes later, the group gathered round eagerly to inspect their completed picture, which was not entirely flattering. Mjoll was blinking, Serana had for some reason stuck up two fingers behind Teldryn’s head, and Sophrine looked about to sneeze. It was, as Neloth had predicted, remarkably true to life.

“A handsome bunch, we are,” Teldryn said approvingly.

“A thoroughly frivolous bunch,” Neloth grumbled. “Now, may we return to finding that book?”

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 9: Tellings of the Wheel

Hello again! This reread is filled with spoilers of all kinds (that Dracula guy isn't just a funny foreigner - he's a vampire!) and is best avoided if you don't want to read that sort of thing. For everyone else, let's get started!

The chapter icon is another dragon's fang, probably associated with Rand's dream and the general sense of panic in the village.

Rand’s heart pounded as he ran, and he stared in dismay at the barren hills surrounding him.

Dream sequence time! This is quite possibly our first sighting of Tel'aran'rhiod, a plot device that lets Jordan get away with far more dream sequences than most authors can. After all, if you die in T'A'R, you die in real life. Unless you're Lanfear, apparently.

But that's way, way away.

This was not just a place where spring was late in coming; spring had never come here, and never would come. Nothing grew in the cold soil that crunched under his boots, not so much as a bit of lichen. He scrambled past boulders, twice as tall as he was; dust coated the stone as if never a drop of rain had touched it.

If Rand is in T'A'R, then he's in the worst possible place to be in T'A'R: the Blight. Indeed, after just a little bit more running he ends up in the shadow of Shayol Ghul itself.

That bleak stone spire, a dagger stabbing at the heavens, was the source of his desolation. He had never seen it before, but he knew it. The memory of it flashed away like quicksilver when he tried to touch it, but the memory was there. He knew it was there.

Rand's very first LTT memory! He's going to get a lot of these, and this one is particularly interesting because it's later stated (I think in the BWB but possibly in the text itself) that in the AoL, Shayol Ghul was just a pleasant island. Ignoring the weirdness that is it not being where the Collam Daan was (I don't get it and I never will), this implies that the Forsaken took the time to renovate the island into a more forbidding mountain by the time of the Hundred Companions or that the Dark One's touch did it all on its own. Either way, the mountain wasn't affected by the Breaking... Or duh, the island was the first thing Broken when all the Companions went crazy together. The memory is hard for Rand to capture not just because it's his first one, but because it's from a time Lews Therin himself doesn't remember well.

Serve me, a voice whispered in the stillness of his mind. A familiar voice. If he listened hard enough he was sure he would know it. Serve me. He shook his head to try to get it out of his head. Serve me! He shook his fist at the black mountain. “The Light consume you, Shai’tan!”

If you say the Dark One's name in a dream, does it count? The smell of death lays thick over Rand immediately, but it's Ishamael who shows up being all crazy eyes and maybe it's just his B.O.

Not caring if he fell over the edge, he threw himself away. He had to get away. Far away. He fell, flailing at the air, wanting to scream, finding no breath for screaming, no breath at all.

Rand warping so easily from the Blight to Tar Valon is another thing that makes this place feel T'A'R-like more than a vacuole like Ishamael sometimes uses in this book. Rand wants and needs safety and ends up where he's told was safe, but of course even in the dream it isn't. First Ish tries to pull him away from the city, but Rand gets there. Then we get this oddity.

Smiling people walked by on either side of him, people dressed in so many colors they made him think of a field of wildflowers. Some of them spoke to him, but he could not understand, though the words sounded as if he should. But the faces were friendly, and the people gestured him onward, over the bridge with its intricate stonework, onward toward the shining, silver-streaked walls and the towers beyond.

T'A'R is not normally so populated a place! I think Ishamael switches up his tactics at this point, trying to get Rand caught in a particular dream to make him more malleable. Once he gets into the city, he finds it a lot harder to break the script; the White Tower keeps looming in front of him no matter which way he goes, and everyone is sugar sweet.

His feet itched to join in their dance, and even as he thought of it he was dancing, his steps fitting as if he had known it all from birth. He threw back his head and laughed; his feet were lighter than they had ever been, dancing with. . . . He could not remember the name, but it did not seem important.

Another memory of his past life, though distant. Are they just coming forward because in the dream Rand doesn't mind them too much, so he doesn't try to repress it like he does awake? Does Ish have some crazy technique to make people more in touch with their past lives? Semirhage will later state that people with Rand's condition are almost impossible to cure, so it may well be that the prospect of driving Rand to despair over his memories is worth the risk of him using those memories if such a state can be deliberately induced. Or maybe the first memory is legitimately LTT's and the second is Ish trying to bring Ilyena to mind but failing because Rand's not unlocked it yet.

“We have been waiting for you,” the Myrddraal hissed.

It's a simple trick, but it's brutally effective. By trying to make Rand associate Tar Valon with the Shadow, the chances of him willingly going there and possibly benefiting from the help Moiraine and Siuan would try to provide (though again I can't stress enough how bad an idea it would be to try) are much lower.

He rubbed a sore spot on his side. Apparently he had slept with the sword hilt jabbing him in the ribs.

Rand should get used to having a sore side now, all things considered.

But Rand could see no need to go over every step of the journey from the farm, or his fears, or the Myrddraal on the road. Certainly not his nightmares as he slept by the bed. Especially he saw no reason to mention Tam’s ramblings under the fever. Not yet.

It's sad that despite all this Rand is still doing a better job of communicating with Tam than most people will manage with each other in this series. Of course, if he had told Tam, he might well have put two and two together much too early and really freaked out.

“Then he knows what he’s talking about. You listen sharp, think deep, and guard your tongue. That’s good advice for any dealings beyond the Two Rivers, but most especially with Aes Sedai. And with Warders. Tell Lan something, and you’ve as good as told Moiraine. If he’s a Warder, then he’s bonded to her as sure as the sun rose this morning, and he won’t keep many secrets from her, if any.”

Most of Tam's advice is good and true (especially since he's aware enough to explain the basic principles of how Aes Sedai Truths work, even though he doesn't understand the mechanisms behind them), but his warning about Lan is actually not. Tam has no way of knowing it of course, but Lan and Moiraine are going to have divisions and Lan is just as obsessed with making Rand his found family as Rand is to win him over, so they're not as united a front as all that.

As to what the Aes Sedai got out of it, the stories were silent, but he was not about to believe they did not get something.

I could tell you what the Greens get out of it, Rand, but even your farming education won't have prepared you for those depths of depravity.

The Aes Sedai in general most notably get the benefits of a second pair of eyes and ears (not useless even from a non-channeler) and also a slave who can never truly rebel, because the Aes Sedai can Compel them at any time. This is naturally a huge secret on their end because holy shit is it fucked up.

“Perhaps I’ll follow in a few days anyway. Catch you up on the road. We will see if Marin can keep me in bed when I want to get up.”

Sorry Tam, she can and she will. Further, Nynaeve will leave in the interim, so you'll be convinced not to leave for quite some months yet. Seriously, you don't make it to Tar Valon for AGES. It doesn't even make sense.

Outside the room Mat waited, cloaked and coated and carrying his bow. A quiver hung at his waist. He was rocking anxiously on his heels, and he kept glancing off toward the stairs with what seemed to be equal parts impatience and fear. “This isn’t much like the stories, Rand, is it?” he said hoarsely.

What kind of horribly boring stories do fantasy characters tell each other that at the first sign of anything bad happening everyone's always going, "This never happened in the stories!"??? Dear fantasy writers and would-be fantasy writers: never use this cliche again. It is overused, nonsensical, and adds nothing!

Wondering what they could be watching, Rand went to join him. The Warder muttered at him to take a care, but he did open the door a trifle wider to make room for Rand to look, too.

"Today, I teach him to kill all of his own townsfolk who threaten him. Tomorrow, I teach him to die for our fallen kingdoms in the Blight."

You just know that if Mat had approached the door, Lan would have kicked him in the shins until he sat back down.

Cenn Buie was there, as well, looking uncomfortable.

"I can't believe that the crowd of people I incited to riot are rioting!"

Dead silence fell, except for the shuffling of a few feet as men drew back. Two Rivers folk could fight back if they were attacked, but violence was far from common, and threatening people was foreign to them, beyond the occasional shaking of a fist. Cenn Buie, Bili Congar, and the Coplins were left out front alone. Bili looked as if he wanted to back away, too.

I dunno Jordan, once you've gotten to the torch and pitchfork phase (okay there's no pitchforks but there are torches), they're usually past the point of their conscience kicking in like this. Guess Rand's ta'veren is keeping him alive.

Cenn half lifted his right hand, then looked away from it angrily. “I cannot deny what she did,” he muttered, and he did sound ashamed. “She helped me, and others,” he went on in a pleading tone, “but she’s an Aes Sedai, Bran. If those Trollocs didn’t come because of her, why did they come? We want no part of Aes Sedai in the Two Rivers. Let them keep their troubles away from us.”

I dunno Cenn, even ignoring the Dragon Reborn you don't know about standing some fifty feet away, there is that other dude who can channel claiming to be a Dragon, and the weather is unnaturally evil. The fact that you can't even stick to a single conspiracy theory at a time is what makes you simultaneously so pathetic and so realistic. Ten years ago I woulda called this sequence of dudes who Moiraine healed trying to have her burned at the stake contrived, but not these days.

“Is this what Aemon’s blood has come to?” The Aes Sedai’s voice was not loud, but it overwhelmed every other sound. “Little people squabbling for the right to hide like rabbits? You have forgotten who you were, forgotten what you were, but I had hoped some small part was left, some memory in blood and bone. Some shred to steel you for the long night coming.”

Sorry Moiraine, but the only parts left are in the EF5 (or in Rand's case, his adoptive father), and if it weren't for Perrin, these rabbits would all be dead by the end of book four, no matter how good their longbows are.

Eldrene, so beautiful that it was said the flowers bloomed to make her smile.

Rand will eventually unlock memories of the Songs of Growing and make stuff bloom around him all the time. Did the Songs last a little longer than we think, with Eldrene and others slain in the Trolloc Wars their last practitioners, and the details getting a little mixed up in the telling? Mat hears the Song and thinks it sounds familiar...

At night their cook-fires outnumbered the stars, and dawn revealed the banner of Ba’alzamon at their head. Ba’alzamon, Heart of the Dark. An ancient name for the Father of Lies. The Dark One could not have been free of his prison at Shayol Ghul, for if he had been, not all the forces of humankind together could have stood against him, but there was power there. Dreadlords, and some evil that made that light-destroying banner seem no more than right and sent a chill into the souls of the men who faced it.

The Dark One wasn't there, but he's not Ba'allsy either; Ish is. Just think bro, if you hadn't been sooooo insistent on wiping out Manetheren, its heartlands wouldn't have decayed into the very hinterlands that Rand grew up safely in. For a dude obsessed with breaking the Wheel, you sure are good at playing into the Pattern.

But some did not flee. First in a trickle, then a river, then a flood, men went, not to safety, but to join the army fighting for their land. Shepherds with bows, and farmers with pitchforks, and woodsmen with axes. Women went, too, shouldering what weapons they could find and marching side by side with their men

Literally Manetheren has been fighting an apocalyptic war for two centuries and they STILL aren't throwing every able-bodied woman at the problem? Maybe if you'd used the full extent of your populace, you could have wrapped things up in fifty years instead of two hundred plus!

*glares at Jordan*

But the price was high for Manetheren. Eldrene had drawn to herself more of the One Power than any human could ever hope to wield unaided. As the enemy generals died, so did she die, and the fires that consumed her consumed the empty city of Manetheren, even the stones of it, down to the living rock of the mountains. Yet the people had been saved.

Between the manner of her death and the relative circumstances (the loss of her husband and Warder), people including me are pretty convinced that Egwene is Eldrene reborn. It's nice to know that this time around she'll do it a little better, and instead of burning out and taking everything with her, she helps sew reality back together instead.

Other wars would wrack them in years to come, until at last their corner of the world was forgotten and at last they had forgotten wars and the ways of war. Never again did Manetheren rise.

Moiraine skims over a lot of details that aren't really relevant to her, "Try to burn me at the stake and I'll end you with just a fraction of the power Eldrene Sedai used to nuke her enemies" spiel, but we don't have to! Manetheren would be replaced by two kingdoms, Farashelle and Dhowlan. The former was the northern section and held the territory that would become the Two Rivers, the latter was basically Ghealdan, the kingdom whose queen would later swear fealty to the man rebuilding Manether--

Wait, what's that? Sanderson completely tossed aside Perrin's thread of rebuilding Manetheren? Whoops!

The two kingdoms occasionally skirmished, with Farashelle trying to restore Manetheren to its former glory, but nothing ever came of it thanks to Garen's Wall. A thousand years after the Trolloc Wars, Farashelle was conquered by False Dragon Amalasan and then claimed by Hawkwing and Dhowlan was conquered by Hawkwing directly. This tale of reunification is a fun parallel to Rand the real Dragon growing up in western Andor and Perrin the conqueror uniting both regions for his k-

Oh. Right.

After Hawkwing's death, Farashelle was briefly independent until conquered by Andor. Dhowlan was eventually made into Ghealdan by a compact of four nations that established a Crown of the High Council, paralleling the compact of four towns in the Two Rivers that would lead to the establishment of a new kingdom-

Er... guess not.

Oh well, it's not like the only note Jordan left behind on Perrin specifically stated he was supposed to become king or anything.

Weep for Manetheren. Weep for what is lost forever.

This was supposed to be ironic by the end, but since it isn't, I implore you to obey Moiraine and WEEP. Lord knows I'm going to.

Lan pulled Rand back and shut the door. “Let’s go, boy.” The Warder started for the back of the inn. “Come along, both of you. Quickly!”

Now that you're done weeping, let's end on a lighthearted note: Lan cares enough about Rand to address him specifically. Mat meanwhile, he's clearly only bringing along because Moiraine told him to.

Next time: Awesome speech finished, our heroes are finally ready to think about talking about planning a committee to consider the best way to organize their pre-departure if and when they can finalize a date.