#years worth of stuff just woosh

[ijustcutmyhandonabrokenbottle]

Accidentally deleted everything off my computer and can’t get it back. My art programs not even gonna download again cause apprently the systems not compatible with it? even though the fucker was working fine before lol

BRO I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I DONE (╥_╥)

[yellosnacc]

Sometimes you gotta start posting and creating and an audience will come later, it can be hard at first, but don't give up!

Meanwhile, I gotta say I'm obsessed with your creatures, please tell me more about the story! Is it set in a different world, in the future/past, a different dimension?

Yea, thank you. Can't count my worth on reactions. Brrrrrrr

This is a really good question and it's horrible I never actually explained this. It should probably be a pinned post.

In a simple way - the world and story is based on classical fantasy but with the "logicalize" effect. There are dragons, wizards, gods, different races (most races taking places of classical fantasy races). You should recognize most of the concepts but they should feel well uuh- different. For one, (almost) every race is from a different taxonomical kingdom/phylum. The main story I have in mind would be of a guy visiting different regions, showing more of the world and dealing with some personal stuff. However I wont go into more story detail for now.

The world a complicated way - Well the world is a planet not related to Earth in any way and unlikely in the same universe as it has magic/unexplained phenomena.

It's thought that the planet started off like Earth - land and ocean creation. The difference being the appearance of Designers. Those would root on different spots of the planet and start affecting their portion of land, locking it from other designers. This created multiple locked ecosystems with extreme unsular biogeography.

The designers are thought to be organisms that would fight for territory and dominance like animals but since they are motionless they use their ability to control space and time, making the planet their body and universe their habitat. Their behavior being instinctive, not thought formed. (they are also the source of magic)

Some evidence also suggests that with the inteligence of the designer's controlled species the designer's abilities/awareness would grow, making it evolve with the ecosystem. Many historical events support the hypothesis.

This is likely the reason why all the designers were reaching or reached sentience in their respective regions.

Image only shows sentient species of two designers

Before the current time (current time being a difficult combination of medieval times and quick rise in technology and science) the regions got "open" and actual designer war began. However, to the people this was just the usual taking over countries, growing kingdoms and such (except the enemies were often "aliens"). It was a multithousand year process of course.

It got complicated and in the last few thousand years two designers are dead and now people experience big culture mixing, less wars (obviously those still happen), more progress, trading, science and mutual hate for designers.

It's not even 10 years since the biggest elven kingdom began with free public education, big deal.

A Uniima c engineer made a metal plane (it flies shorter than 50 meters and max 3 meters from the ground).

And magic awakening was greatly improved by sterilizing the needles!

(Magical abilities are an uncommon mutation that started appearing in around 6th century. To get it artificially, a god's blood is injected in a vein -or in the somatosensory cortex for better results.)

Talked a lot but probably missed all points, woosh

[trinkerichi]

rambling silliness about cartoons (but the not fun kind of silly)

hgfhjghk forgive me for speaking of this nonsense but my sphere of twitter is exploding with discourse over that hazbin hotel hell boss show and how bad it apparently sucks and it's making me soooo much more glad i didn't stake my career on my interest in cartoons cuz god. imagine having to keep up with all that for the sake of keeping connections for the most competitive career ever. you cant say a WORD bad about that show without fifty billion superfans acting like you're calling for the downfall of independent animation, and then a bunch of randos threatening to blacklist you from one of the 3 animation jobs that exist in the world. i dont have time for that wth. taking 4 years worth of high level math classes wasnt that painful.

AND DONT GET ME WRONG. i have NO room to talk being the resident "still an osomatsu fan in 2023" lady. if you like the show i am not judging you in the slightest. i dont think a person's choices in funny cartoons is indicative of their character. but it took me about 2 minutes of watching it to know it was very very VERY much not my thing. its the type of show i would have loved for exactly 2 months in 9th grade when I thought I was cool and rebellious for watching panty&stocking even though I didn't even understand most of the raunchier jokes. which im positive is the target audience, and the main reason the show is so popular, since there's not much content out there clamoring for that demographic's attention lol.

is anyone here old enough to remember when adding the caption "Raep face!!" to a smirking anime character screencap was a big le funney meme? all that awful stuff about France from Hetalia being a funny scamp for sexually harassing everyone? it reminds me of that. newly rebranded edge. every joke that people post clips of is "HAHA THEY'RE GAY! they're gay men who have sex and are gay isnt it FUNNY? and the invader zim guy said a swear!" except this one also has sad backstories so they can get ANGST too! it's the full package!

and see like. I DO understand the appeal! It's unashamed dumb 14 year old's fanfic level fun. (without getting into the harmful stereotypes.) but you've gotta have a LITTLE self awareness of that, right? i love a lot of shows that have massive problems but im not gonna just blow up at everyone who points them out! but i can only even say this freely because im not trying to build industry connections cuz that sphere is SO tight knit. woosh.

im glad for all it did for indie animation! ...i dont have a point here it just made me have thoughts. i wish for peace for all of my animator friends cuz public relations on the internet is nuts.

[artaxlivs]

WAIT. Hold up...is this like tumblr trick or treating? I have to give you a treat or you'll give me a trick? Okay okay i fucked that up....here we go...

Straightening his straw hat one last time, Clint yanks open the door to his apartment and takes a jaunty step into the hallway. He follows it up with a little skip before practically dancing to the elevator while humming under his breath.

He was smart this year and when Natasha picked their group costume, he just went along with it. Usually he argued because he always wanted to be Robin Hood and then he'd lose a bet with her and end up in heels and a mini skirt or something.

Not this year though. He's very happy in his scratchy pants and homespun shirt, thank you very much. Even if the straw is real and itches. Worth it to not fight fishnet stockings or wax his chest or something.

When the doors slide open, Clint almost smears the make-up on his nose trying to cover his laughter with his palm.

Steve is leaning against the wall as best he can in his not actually tin costume, "Shut up and get in the elevator," Steve grouches. Clint obliges, snort laughing at Steve's silver face all the way to the common room floor.

This time when the elevator doors woosh open, there's a bipedal lion standing there, shoulders hunched, tail clutched between his paws, "Put 'em up, put 'em up." Bruce says softly with false bravado, "Which one of ya is first - I'll fight you both together if you want. I'll fight you with one paw tied behind my back!" He tucks one furry paw behind his back for proof.

Clint guffaws, doubling over with laughter, "Oh my god, Bruce! It's perfect!" Steve pushes past them, giving Clint a nudge with his rubber ax so Clint falls flat on the floor, still hooting with laughter.

"I've been wanting to sing 'if you only had a brain!' at you for so long...remind me to thank Natasha again for this idea." Tony sing-songs, leaning over Clint in a three piece tailored emerald green suit. There's a little medal ribbon on his chest declaring him "The All Powerful Wizard of OZ."

Putting out a hand, Tony helps Clint up. Clint purposefully over corrects, flopping his arms this way and that way like a floppy scarecrow but Steve takes a hold of the back of his shirt and keeps him still. Clint grins at him.

The elevator dings and Nat steps out in all black, a broom clutched in one hand, the other adjusting her pointed hat just right as she sweeps out into the common room.

Wait. "I thought you were gonna be Dorothy?" Clint asks her, because this really only makes sense if they have a Dorothy to go with the Tin Man, the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion.

The elevator dings again, doors sliding open to reveal a disgruntled and scowling Bucky...in a blue and white gingham dress and ruby red heels. His hair is parted down the middle and plaited into two perfect braids. He's even carrying a basket with a stuff terrier in it.

No one says anything for a long moment. Then Clint crows with laughter. Bruce hides his own smile in the fluff of his tail and Steve becomes very interested in a close of view of his ax.

Nat grins wickedly and points her broom at Bucky when he finally leaves the safety of the elevator, "Say it." She commands.

Clicking his red heels together three times, Bucky growls and grinds out, "Never bet against Natasha. Never bet against Natasha. Never bet against Natasha."

Her grin gets somehow more wicked and she cackles:

🎃Happy Halloween @carcrash429!

🦇 trick or treat!

Are you asking? Because always treat. If I can only have one - I'll take the fluff over the angst any day. 😉

Trick or treat to you too my friend! I hope you get all your favorite candy and no one TPs your house!

[jatparker]

Stars

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: Best friends Peter and Y/N loved to watch the stars together. They’d climb onto the roof every Friday night and stay there until the sun comes up. One day Peter finally plucks up the courage to ask her out on a date

Climbing onto the roof of her apartment shouldn’t have been such a big deal. She’d done it so many times before, but she’d always had Spider-Man, fucking Spider-Man!, by her side. It didn’t help that she had to sneak her way up with a backpack full of picnic food, but having Peter there made it less daunting.

Of course, this had to be the one time Peter was actually interning under Tony Stark. He wasn’t swinging around the city; he was making coffees and organising paperwork. Sucks to be him, she thought with a smile. But he promised he would be there and Y/N knew he would.

Since they were fourteen, Y/N and Peter made their way onto the roof of their apartment complex to watch the stars. They were kind of hard to see, blocked out by the light pollution. So, when Y/N was fifteen, she bought him a telescope. She’d saved up for weeks and done countless shifts at the little pizza place where she worked. But it was all worth it, just for the smile that came with it.

They’d both agreed, once they’d got their licences, that the two of them would take a trip out of Queens. Leave everything behind, their worries and responsibilities, and go stargazing in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. They’d bring a telescope, a few blankets and a change of clothes. All they needed was each other and the stars.

Y/N was setting up the blankets and setting out the food when the red figure swung into view. The expensive telescope was precariously under his arm (it was a wonder he hadn’t broken it yet). “You need to be careful with that thing,” Y/N warned in way of greeting. “I’m not buying you another one if you break it.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter pulled off the mask. But he grinned once he saw their usual set up. Cushions, blankets and a bowl of crisps, he didn’t know how Y/N managed to carry it all up here. “You ready to gaze at some stars?”

And so, Peter set about setting up the telescope as Y/N began eating the food. She already had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the temperature outside had yet to drop. Or maybe Peter's superhuman body just ran a little hotter than everybody else’s. He was content to stay in the spider suit while she hogged the blankets.

And so, they watched the stars, taking turns with the telescope. Peter had actually taken the time out of his studies and the internship to research constellations and became quite the astrology nerd. He searched for the constellations in the telescope and then pointed them out to Y/N.

The two sat on the roof for hours, talking, looking at the stars, bitching about Y/N’s least favourite teacher and so on. They stayed until the sun rose and the sky was painted orange.

Peter stood and began to stretch. “I better go before May starts to panic,” he said and gathered up the telescope.

“Hold your horses, Pete.” Y/N still had a blanket around her shoulders and had a cushion tucked under her arm. She was in the process of gathering up everything, but things kept falling out of her arms. “You’re not going to leave me here with all of this, are you?”

He only smiled, pulled the mask back over his face and leapt off the side of the building. That fucker, she thought and continued gathering up her stuff.

***

Y/N couldn’t quite understand it when Peter had called an emergency stargaze on a Monday. Ste had a tonne of homework as well as a lack of sleep to make up for.

She trudged up the fire escape, rather unenthusiastically, only for Peter to not be there. Instead, blankets were spread out in their usual spot and pillows surrounded them. But the telescope wasn’t there. Instead there was a note taped to one of the cushions.

Please don’t leave! I’ll be back soon, I promise. The answers the the algebra and biology homework are on the back - Pete

It wasn’t like Peter to just give out answers. He was always pushing Y/N to do her best, to try and work out the answers on her own before he swooped in and saved her ass from detention. Y/N wasn’t going to pass up this rare opportunity.

She watched the sunset alone, snapping a quick picture when the sky turned pink. Her homework took hours, even when she was copying Peters (slightly confusing) answers. By the time she was done she was using her phone as a torch and her hand was cramping.

A sudden woosh! filled the air and someone landed on the roof beside her. The person stumbled ever so slightly, but quickly regained his balance, somehow keeping hold of the boxes in his hands. “Did somebody order pizza?”

“Peter Parker you’re a lifesaver!” Y/N called as he sat beside her and opened the first box. She stole a slice and quickly ate it. “And thanks for the answers. God knows I wouldn’t be graduating without you.”

They made light work of the pizza, sitting silently as they ate. Y/N had had head on Peter's shoulder as she stuffed her face. A little bit of cheese had stuck to her face, but neither of them had noticed it yet.

“So,” Y/N started after wiping the sauce (and cheese) away from her face. “Why did you call me up here? What’s going on?”

Peter suddenly panicked. He had been going over this in his head since he first picked up the pizza. And ate the first two boxes because of nerves alone. It was why he had left her up here for so long. Being in love with your best friend was never easy.

“I just…” He struggled to find the words, wringing his hands together to try and somewhat calm his nerves. “Today was tough and I thought we could use it,” he said quietly, looking at his feet. He blew it. He totally blew it.

“You’re the best, Parker!” She grinned and leaned her entire body against him. Without the blanket around her shoulders she was shivering in the cold night. Peter wrapped his arms around her and looked out across Queens.

***

There was a lot Peter wanted to say to Y/N, he just didn’t know how to do it. Every time he tried his words would get jumbled or he’d chicken out.

“What do you actually like about her?” MJ asked as they waited for Y/N and Ned in the cafeteria.

Peter considered her words. He’d never really thought about it that far, he knew he liked Y/N (knew he liked her a lot) but he’d never tried to put those feelings into words. “She’s my best friend, right?” He started, still trying to find the words. “She knows everything about me, everything I like and don’t like, and for some reason she still chooses to be around me. I don’t have to hide any part of myself around her! She makes me feel comfortable to be me where I’ve always been made to feel like I have to be more than I am. When I’m with her I don’t want to swing off and disappear until she leaves. And she’s just incredible.”

Peter fell silent as Ned and Y/N approached the table. They slid themselves into their seats and instantly dominated the conversation. They spoke about Star Wars or the Hobbit or whatever they were into that week.

A note was suddenly placed in front of Peter. Tell her everything you just told me. He snatched it up before anyone could see and hit it in his pocket, his cheeks pinks. “You feeling alright, Parker?”

“Yep,” he choked out and cleared his throat. “Everything’s fine.”

But Y/N wasn’t convinced. “As long as you’re sure,” she mumbled and eyed him suspiciously. Ned quickly pulled her back into the conversation and Peter silently thanked him.

***

It was their usual Friday when Y/N took a trip up to the roof. He had been quiet and distant all week; she wasn’t sure if he was going to show or not.

When she got there, with a blanket stuffed into her bag and a pillow under her arm, she gasped.

There was Peter Parker, looking dapper in a tattered suit. His arms were braced against the railing that went around the roof and looked down at the bustling street below. He knew she was there, but chose to let her come to him.

Y/N set down her bag and her pillow and slowly approached him. “What’s going on, Parker?” Her voice was quiet as she reached for the railing and stood beside him. Last time this had happened, he’d just come from his Uncle Ben's funeral. The two had spent that night crying and reminiscing.

He turned to her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You took Liz Allen to homecoming and her dad was one of the bad guys, you can do this. He was still nervous, but he had to do this. It was now or never.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

“I love you too, Pete. What’s going on?” She urged.

So, Peter tried again. “Y/N.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “You’re someone who makes me feel comfortable being myself. You know every part of me and there’s nothing I have to hide from you. When I’m with you, I don’t have to be anymore than I am and-” the paper slipped from between his fingers, pulled away by the wind. “Shit,” he mumbled, trying to reach for it. It tumbled through the air, out of his grasp.

Y/N was silent. Peter had half a mind to get on his knees and beg for her to say something, anything.

“I think I get what you’re trying to say,” she said at last and stepped closer. Peter sucked in a breath, his chest tight. “Can we start this night over? This time, I’ll do the talking.” Peter rapidly nodded his head and Y/N took his hand.

They pulled the blanket from Y/N’s bag and sat on it. She took a minute to gather her words before finally speaking. “Hey Peter, I’m in love with you and I have been for the last year. I think we should go on a date,” she said, words filled with confidence. “This Friday, before we come up here for stargazing.” Y/N was looking at him, eyes filled with hope.

“I’ll pick you up at six.” Peter grinned and leaned back, opening his arms for her.

“You better bring flowers for my mum. It’s not a real date without them.”

“What do you take me for? Cheap?”

[kriffingunlucky]

Could pleeassseee do a scared reader request with like the 501st (whoever you want) where the reader is like scared to go back to her house or quarters or something b/c someone broke in or something(?) and she wants them to like do a walk through to make sure it’s safe. Bonus if like they stay over to keep watch and make her feel extra safe. Also, you’re writing is sooo goood I would wait a year to read your stuff tbh☺️😍

A/N: Ahh! Thank you, darling! That’s too sweet of you. You might actually have to wait a year at the pace I’m spitting out fanfics heh. Oops. Sorry!

This is such a cute idea though! So I’ll do it for sure. :)

---------

Strolling down the hallways of the old base that the Republic just gained back, your eyes dart carefully around. Scanning the ceiling and ventilation shafts. You could swear you heard something up there. Nervously playing with your fingers, you step as quietly as you could, so if any noises were made you’d know and be able to react. Not that you’d know what to do.

After paranoidly stalking your way towards your quarters, you jumped a mile high when the door you were standing beside slides open. Eyes wide and body shaking, you creep towards the opening. Peeking your head in, the darkness giving you chills.

But there was nothing inside.

“What are you doing?”

You yell, startled, turning around and covering your face with your arms. Terror on your face. But after you weren’t attacked and the person starts laughing softly, you uncovered your face to look at the suspect.

“Oh, Fives. Hi.”

“What were you lookin’ for?” The man smiles, trying to stifle his laughter. But failing. “Ghosts?”

“No!” You defend yourself, voice cracking. “I was just, seeing who opened it. Yeah.”

Fives nods slowly, entertainment on his face. “M’kay, love. Whatever you say.”

You open your mouth to protest but you hear another voice call out, also making you jump. Leaping behind the ARC in front of you, you move his arm to peek out from behind him.

It was just Echo approaching.

“What took you so long? You said you were just going to see what that noise was.” Echo crosses his arms, inspecting his closest vod.

“SO YOU HEARD IT TOO!” You shout, shoving your head between Fives’ arm and side, making him look down and move his arm slightly. Not stepping out from behind him, though, you look at Echo.

Realization sets in on his face.

She’s what kept him, duh. What other than girls could distract Fives? Echo shakes his head side to side with a smile, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I did hear it. Can’t decide what it sounds like though.” He laughs.

Frowning, you mummer lowly, like it was a secret. “I’ve heard some guys talking about ghosts haunting this place.”

Echo sighs, “That’s silly-”

“I believe it!” Fives declares, throwing his hands dramatically around. “I set my bucket down as me n’ Echo were eating our rations, but when I turned back to where I know fur’sure I left it. It was gone!”

“Fives, that’s because you misplaced it.” Echo interjects, looking unamused.

“Spooky.” The goateed man whispers down towards you, something in his eyes. Ignoring what his friend had said, like he totally didn’t just ruin his story.

“I kept hearing things in the ceiling and art ducts, it was scary.” You swallow, looking down at your feet. Suddenly worried about what they’d think of you. It wasn’t stupid that you were afraid, right? “I didn’t like walking alone. That’s why you scared me so much when you walked up, Fives.”

The clone frowns in response, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know.”

You mumble an ‘it’s okay’ under your breath and try to not look as tense as you were, but fail. Your body was painfully stiff as you flinch at the noise you hear again.

“We’re almost done with our rounds, and heading in the same direction as your quarters anyways, so maybe we could assist you. Would you mind if we walked you the rest of the way?” Echo offers, tilting his head.

You look up, guilt written all over your face. Eyes wide. “No, no you don’t ha-”

“(Y/n). It’s not an inconvenience, so don’t even start on that.” Fives shoots you a reassuring grin, holding his hand out to you. “It’d be our pleasure.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. Smiling at the both of them and take his hand. Finishing their rounds with them. You chatted about the most random things, being friendly and joking around, picking on each other. They both helped you forget how afraid you were before, feeling safe walking between them, holding Fives’ hand.

But the three of you arrive at your room.

“Here we are! Glad we could walk ya! I enjoyed talkin’.” Fives laughs, letting go of your hand as you unlock your door.

You chuckle, agreeing with him as you walk in, turning around with a smile. “Yes, thank you both! I’ll see you around.”

Fives and Echo both say their goodbyes, strolling down the hallways back to the barracks for the shift change.

You inspected your room, not being scared at first, but it set in later. The base had barely any lights, and most of them weren’t even working. The metal walls seeming closer then they really are. The shadows shifting around in the room, never letting you set your eyes on them. Your breath hitches in your throat as tears form in the corners of your eyes. You realize;

you’re terrified.

In a fit of panic you open the door again and yell for your ARC friends, voice shaking violently. “Come back! Please don’t leave me!!”

Tears stream down your face as you cry, terrified as it felt like the darkness followed you down the halls, as your feet carried you in the direction they walked off in. You couldn’t stop yourself from going, and once you were, you didn’t want to stop. Closing your eyes as you turn the corner, you wanted everything to just stop.

You ram into a hard, but movable, wall. Not exactly what you were thinking but it worked well enough for you. Falling onto your butt, you continue to sob, curling into a ball. Whispering things out of worry. You didn’t open your eyes, because you knew that if you did whatever was chasing you would be in front of you.

“(Y/n)?”

Echo’s voice finally broke through your fit of panic, his warm hand on the side of your face. You didn’t know how long he’d been trying to talk to you, but you tried to quiet down, listening to what he was saying.

“Take big breaths, okay? In and out. Open your eyes. I’m right here. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Breathing deeply you slowly peek your eyes open, met by his deep brown ones, clouded with worry. Throwing yourself over him in a hug you try to keep your breathing steady.

“Now, what happene-”

“Please stay with me.” You whisper into his neck, voice shaking.

Echo looks up at Fives, and they share a glance, but decide on what to do.

“Okay.” He responds, standing up with you in his arms. “Lets go back and get you in bed.”

Fives walks behind Echo, a soft smile on his features as he looks at you. He really did love you, wanting to keep you safe was at the top of his list. So making sure that if you decided to open your beautiful (e/c) eyes again, he would be there. To reassure you that you’re safe.

Entering your room, the door opening with a woosh, you were lowered down to be set on the small bed. But you don’t release the clone from your grasp.

Echo sighs, speaking to you gently. “You have to let go of me so I can remove some of my armor, it’d be uncomfortable to sleep in. Trust me. I’ll climb into the bed with you as soon as I’m done, alright?”

Slowly nodding, you move your arms from around his neck. Nervously shifting on the bed. Whispering, “Sorry.”

Fives was out of the top half of his armor first, so he scoots into the bed with you, his back pressed against the wall as he pats beside him. “It’s fine, love. C’mere.”

Doing as you were told, you scoot closer. Curling into Fives’ large chest with some hesitance. He wraps his arms around your shoulders carefully though, keeping you near to his chest. Your head against where his heart his, the loud, healthy thudding calming you. Soon your small legs become entangled with his.

Echo then joins you both in the small bunk, crawling close to you and snuggling into your back, arms around your waist and face wedged into the crook of your neck. Sticking his feet under Fives’ warm legs, he smiles into your skin.

“Are you feeling okay?”

But the only answer he got was a loud snore from you.

This will be one hell of a situation to explain to the captain, but it’s worth it for her.

[kbstories]

Axiomatic

ax·i·om·at·ic (adj.)

Self-evident; unquestionable.

The best part of battle is the afterparty.

(Or: Remember that banquet Luffy promised? This is it.)

Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Partying

Set in Wano. Spoilers for all of Wano. Read Chapter 2 here.

***

“What do you think?”

Lipstick glides over thin lips, the wax malleable and smooth as it leaves a coat of rusty red in its wake. Killer makes sure it’s perfectly even before he glances elsewhere. In the mirror, Kidd’s face is all scowled impatience.

One last run-down – eyeliner, mascara, lipstick: done, done and done – then Killer grabs the mask waiting for him. “Alright, let me see.”

Their eyes meet and Killer sighs. Metal over skin-and-bone, Kidd’s arms are crossed; his shaved brows push together further. As if Killer doesn’t indulge his every whim by the regular.

“I’m looking. Show me again.”

Kidd grumbles, “Watch.” He opens his arms, reveals an unbuttoned shirt tucked into his favorite patterned pants, glinting gold over black under a double-belted cinch at the waist. So far, so very Kidd.

No, the point of discussion is the frankly massive coat slung across his neck: Nice soft-looking suede on the outside and glossy-grey fur on the inside, it hugs Kidd’s shoulders in all the right places to then cascade down his back in a display of near-ridiculous opulence.

Extravagant, over-the-top, flashy. It’s hard to tell which type of animal had to die for this. There must be a lot less of ‘em now, with this monstrosity in the world.

Kidd is swiveling it back and forth with critical glances to the mirror, the coat wooshing with the motions. Killer takes in the fluid glide of fur over Kidd’s exposed chest, the contrast of impeccable couture against jagged scars. Loses himself for a moment or two imagining how it would feel like to run his hands over both.

An appreciative hum. In Killer’s educated opinion, Kidd looks damn near sinful.

“Yeah?”, Kidd asks and Killer nods. “Yeah. Heh, told ya the detour’s worth it.”

Perhaps it was, although sifting through Onigashima’s treasury whilst bleeding all over heaps of shiny expensive everything might’ve been a case of skewed priorities. There’s no need to talk about what-could-have-beens, though – they’re here, they’re rich and they’re long overdue at Strawhat’s banquet.

Killer’s practically done, tight jeans under a shirt that’s done up to the third button and left to flare open otherwise. It’s not his old favorite (that one stopped fitting him a good year ago) but similar enough, patterned in geometric black-and-white shapes. Definitely one of his fancier ones, not that anyone will care one way or the other where they’re going.

It’s… been a while since it’s been anyone other than them and their crew. Pirates are pirates, allied or no; Killer eyes the scythes neatly stored next to the bed.

Kidd is touching up his lips one last time, the same shade as Killer’s. “Bring ‘em. That Roronoa guy keeps throwing you weird looks and I’m not allowed to kill him.”

Yet goes implied. Killer isn’t wearing his mask and so he doesn’t roll his eyes. “He’s got every reason to”, he reminds his captain, focusing on the heavy clasps of his weapons to keep the memories at bay. The red mark on his chest stings, stuck in the limbo between a healing wound and a fresh scar for a few days still.

A testament to his failure that Killer won’t hide. If Zoro hadn’t stopped him that day his hands would be stained with blood that cannot be washed off, not entirely.

Kidd’s eyes are on him, dark. “I don’t care.”

Resentful as always. Killer reaches for him, digs his fingers into the fluffy lining of that coat and oh, the fur is as soft as it looks. “I do, though.” A firm tug, one Kidd follows until Killer can kiss him, careful not to smudge anything.

“No killing of allies today, ‘kay? We just came back from a war. The crew’s tired. I’m tired.”

“Mh” is all Kidd has to say to that, a grumpy huff against Killer’s lips more than anything. Kidd does give him a proper kiss, however, and Killer knows he won this one.

All he can ask of Kidd is to try, anyways – with two equally hot-headed captains and a whole host of morons around to rile him up, there’s bound to be blood eventually. The trick is to make sure everyone’s drunk enough not to take it too personally.

A pinch to his ass tells Killer he was caught scheming. Kidd smirks, tells him, “We’re getting wasted tonight”, all triumphant like it’s the best idea he’s had all week, and Killer doesn’t miss the emphasis on we.

“Two Emperors down! Strawhat better bring the good stuff tonight or this alliance is over.”

Killer groans, “Kidd”, but he’s smiling, too. Before he can be called out on it, Killer shoves his mask into Kidd’s hands, metal clanking against metal. “Make yourself useful. We’re late.”

Kidd’s laugh is more of a cackle than anything else – “Yes, darling”, said in that sarcastic lilt Killer knows all too well – yet Kidd complies. His hands, organic or otherwise, handle the mask they’ve built with care and precision. Soon, Killer’s vision is narrowed down to dots, the audio filter of his helmet kicking in soon after.

Killer rolls his neck and hums, satisfied. “Ready?”

Kidd throws a final look at himself in the mirror, grinning into the collar of his new coat.

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

*

The banquet is a sprawling, messy affair that swallows the entirety of the ramshackle village the Strawhats picked as their home in Wano Country.

From the moment the Kidd Pirates get there they are surrounded. Wherever Killer's eyes roam there are knots of people drinking, eating, laughing and crying, sometimes simultaneously – there, at the heart of it all where the crowd is thickest, burns the largest bonfire Killer has seen in a while, perhaps ever. Smiling faces all around and for once, it doesn’t make Killer’s stomach drop because they’re genuine.

Survivors of SMILE just like him, caught in the rush of real emotions for the first time in who knows how long. Killer has a pretty good idea how that feels like.

Next to him, Kidd is so tense he’s stalking, gaze intense, oozing Haki to keep people away; Wire’s hand is clenched to bloodlessness around his trident while Heat exhales a bit of smoke with every breath and yeah, Killer gets it. Can’t help it himself, either, scythes kept close to his sides to make sure they’re there.

The thing is: They don’t do these kinds of things. Parties, yes, many and often but not like this. Killer can count on one hand the amounts of times the population of any island was actually happy to see them, much less willing to send them off with one big feast.

Actually, he wouldn’t need to count at all because it’s simply never happened. Even filtered by his mask it’s… a lot to take in at once.

The entire damn country is here, it seems, all breathing a collective sigh of relief so monumental the air itself carries their joy. For all that the Kidd Pirates were in this for revenge and glory, Killer can’t deny it’s rewarding to see a nation so ravaged by an Emperor’s greed do whatever they want for the first time in decades.

Finally, a few familiar faces start popping up. Some of the samurai greet them with nods of their heads, overly formal like the people from Wano tend to be; here and there they spot the distinctly branded yukata the members of Trafalgar’s crew are wearing and, rarer but all the more noticeable, those animal people Strawhat dragged along from somewhere.

Minks? Or something? Killer is inclined to say it doesn’t matter if they didn’t have the habit to jump on them out of fucking nowhere. Looking for bone-crushing hugs and wet-nosed kisses, of all things, and– Oh no, he did not sign up for this.

Much less for whatever that group of cat minks are gearing up to, staring at the holes in his mask with eyes nearly swallowed by black, round pupils. Killer is absolutely, solidly convinced he doesn’t even want to know what that’s all about.

“Captain.”

And yeah, his tone is a little more alarmed than he truly means it to be. It gets Kidd’s attention, though – himself having fought off a dog mink enamored with his metal arm not too long ago – and he barks a laugh even when he ramps up his presence to an almost stifling degree.

“C’mon, I feel Strawhat up ahead.”

To nobody’s surprise, they find him smack dab in the middle of everything. Strawhat and his crew are lounging around the bonfire, there’s no other way to describe it: All broad smiles and flushed faces amidst the chaos, completely in their element, and it’s hard to tell if it’s the closeness to the bonfire or the vaguely impressive amounts of empty bottles lying around already. They’re certainly boisterous enough for it to be the latter, even Jinbei.

And no, Killer hasn’t quite processed that turn of events yet. The strangeness of seeing someone of that caliber wheeze into his mug with laughter as his (new?) captain takes a disturbingly big bite out of an even bigger chunk of meat is… not helping things, in that regard.

What a bunch of weirdos. In the safety of his mask, Killer allows himself a small smile.

From here the flames seem to reach for the sky, tinged in warm pinks and oranges by the sinking sun and there, very faintly, Killer can make out the first stars. He can’t remember ever seeing them, not with the factories running over night as well.

“Spikey!!”

Ah. Killer’s head turns with Kidd’s and it’s a good thing, too, because there’s a stretched arm coming for his captain – Kidd bites out, “Nope, no, Strawhat”, red eyes going wide – and Killer manages to side-step it in the last possible second. One, twice it wraps around Kidd, fancy coat and all, and then the rubber recoils.

“Killer!”

Oh my, Killer thinks mildly as he watches him go. Behind him, half their crew is flabbergasted and the other half is in stitches. “Captain’s gonna be in such a mood”, Heat says to Wire, and it just sends them into another fit of chuckles.

For Killer, finding a drink becomes his top priority. So much for keeping things peaceful.

>>Chapter 2.

[yogpetshame]

“Interview” with a Sjin Mod

Special project today, a series of conversations in ThatMadCat’s discord with a former Sjin mod (they might beg to differ, but I digress). I wasn’t actually present in any of these conversations, they were mostly spurred by some guy called Allosaurus - 

Do you think I spend any time talking to you people? Don’t flatter yourself.

Anyway, commendably they don’t ban Allosaurus when he initiates conversations about how Sjin is a pedophile. But rather, Sjin’s Discord and Twitch moderator, Sieopolitan, runs her mouth willy nilly every time he is brought up. 

What follows is one conversation from October, and then two much more recent discussions. I’m going to do the conversations in order, but I will remix the order of the posts for readability.

The results I think you will find enjoyable. And I’ll drop links to the unabridged conversations at the end.

I’m writing this part before I get to the rest but I already know this is going to be VERY long, so here’s a once-in-a-blue-moon Keep Reading.

So, here’s the start, our main players are Sieopolitan, the mod, and this fiesty dude Allosaurus. Green names are moderators, the more red-toned your name is the more you post. I think.

Allosaurus obliges, and the rest of the conversation takes place in a different channel, where he welcomes Sieopolitan first.

Every time this guy posts I swoon. Unfortunately, I’m going to abridge him a lot in the interest of time. Just know for the most part he’s the one who was asking these questions.

Here’s topic one:

Why does Sjincord still exist?

Boy-oh-boy. This is already on my nerves.

Keep in mind, Sieopolitan admits here that Sjin fucked up. That’ll come up later.

I mentioned this before, I believe, but I also mod a Discord community. Larger than MadCat’s server, and Sjincord. And it’s older.

And if we experienced a moral, structural failure on the scale of Sjincord, and couldn’t delete or commandeer the server, we’d ban everyone and then ban ourselves.

This “they are my family!!!” line is bullshit. Make a new server. Puppy appreciation club. If they’re actually your family, and not a half-assed dependency, they would go with you.

Given you could move somewhere else, why don’t you shut Sjincord down?

Tell that to Caffcat’s discord mods. Allosaurus explains that that’s hardly an excuse when Caff’s team stopped modding for him and closed the server.

Sieopolitan... dodges the question.

Woosh, question dodged. Line for line: Claw was passive but yes, they did what they needed to to apologize for their role in unwittingly aiding Caff. Sjin using the server is not relevant. It’s a Pedophile-Theme Server. Full of people who like a pedophile. Sieopolitan, head deep in the sand, is unsurprisingly one of those people who thinks Sjin just chatted up a few consenting adults. But I guess we all should have known that. And yes, “Sienna” is gonna call out someone who hasn’t done anything to her. Because that’s called empathy for the people he has predated on and it’s the job of the mod.

Everyone in Sjincord has an extremely good reason to walk out.

What do you believe, Sieopolitan?

Sieopolitan thinks Sjin got fired for flirting.

I feel like we need Lewis to come forward and say, we wouldn’t fire people for flirting, that’s stupid. You get fired for sexual harassment.

Hell, Hannah doxxed a child and never actually got the axe. But he you think Sjin got fired for flirting? But...

Haven’t you seen the screenshots? Or any of the stuff former Yogscast moderator Mighty_Claw had seen?

I’m confused as to why you think Sjin got fired for talking to people and yet Mighty_Claw and JaneDash seem to have, not just screenshots, but firsthand experience with the contents of the reports people made. Even ���Skylan Torchwick,” with the stupid name, was apparently worth enough to see Caff’s text messages. Why are you out of the loop on what Sjin was fired for?

My personal theory is that Sieopolitan may have even been sent some of these reports and was helping to silence them, because that seems to be the only possible fucking way on Earth you could be in such a position of trust and still stick to the “official” line. Why are you relying on Lewis to know? How are you this out of the loop? Why are you relying on screenshots? Aren’t you Sjin’s mod?

How can you take such a hard line stance in favor of a pedophile when you seem to know the least of anyone?

Oh okay, it’s fine when you’re blinding yourself.

Aren’t you jeopardizing future victims?

Why? Why have faith? You claim to expect future contact with the man! Why all the hope and faith?

He’s been doing this bullshit for eight. Fucking. Years. He got a warning already in 2016. How many second chances does he need, exactly? How many female bodies do you intend to let him walk over?

Anyway, skip forward several months and we’re talking about Sjin streaming.

Yay... redakdal is back...

Isn’t it weird that Sieopolitan expects to talk to Sjin about how he wants to stream, and isn’t thinking at all “Oh, if he’s going to talk to me, I NEED to ask him if he is in fact a pedophile because under these circumstances I would NEVER EVER RISK MODDING FOR A PEDOPHILE?”

Like, how is this conversation going to go?

“hi after months and months away it’s me sjin the p- i mean sjin the totally not a pedophile”  “glad to hear it how do you want chat to go”

And not

“hi its me sjin th-” “Are you a pedophile” “what haha :3” “I can’t mod for you if I don’t know what you actually got fired for, or else the guilt will follow me for an eternity.” “haha i was flirting :3″ “you got fired for flirting” “yeah haha :3″ “Go fuck yourself.”

How is this a response?! Sjin is not your family. If I had an actual flesh and blood pedophile in my actual family I report them to the police and never talk to them again. And if the various British incels in your shitty dead Discord would all go away if you took a stance against pedophilia, then good fucking riddance.

So why is protecting Sjin even necessary if you and your incels are such a close “family”?

You’ve kept a closed mind, as I said before, because there is no way in hell this information couldn’t have been given directly to you if you had asked for it.

I mean, fuck. I’ll call on any former mod, Janedash, whoever. I bet you could reach Sieo and give her the skinny. And I bet she would not listen to you.

It’s not a special server. I’m sure that’s something every angsty fucking teenager on earth wants to say, “Oh, they’re my real friends, they helped me,” but if your friends enable a pedophile, fucking walk. And then maybe take an introspective look at yourself and wonder why you got helped by the pedo-helpers.

Why are you ignoring advice from people who know more than you?

Oh, I can see that. You take it seriously by worrying about what mode to set his chat in when he comes back.

Allosaurus quote out of context, just because I like it.

So you feel no imperative to protect anyone from Sjin?

Again, explain that to Caff’s moderators. This is not a valid excuse whatsoever. Allosaurus has good suggestion:

Yogscast employees knew Sjin was up to this pedophilic shit for the last eight years and didn’t move on it. They received many of the same reports in July 2019 they’d already seen in 2016, and even 2013, and they received the report that Turps got fired for two years before they were forced to acted on it.

They have a very, very long track record of ignoring the fuck out of fireable behavior, and as seen below, Sieopolitan appeals to some mystery entity within the Yogscast who is reputable, when Lewis has been here the whole time, abiding Turps and Ridgedog and Sjin and stifling all reports.

And Sieopolitan, I expect, will keep on running.

Anyway, that’s all I got for now, as promised the full caps will be below. If you pick out anything from them you want me to talk about, you don’t have to try and send me the screenshot, just quote from it and I’ll pull it myself.

Oct. 29, 2019 5:22 AM

Oct. 29, 2019 5:31 AM

Oct. 29, 2019 5:41 AM

Oct. 29, 2019 5:47 AM

Feb. 4, 2020 7:39 PM

[elisaphoenix13]

The Sorcerer's Cub (Ch.3)

When Stephen woke from their nap, he almost immediately jolted into a sitting position when he felt himself pressed up against Tony's side. That was usually normal and something he would enjoy for a few minutes, but he was very aware that he shouldn't be this close to Tony. There was a baby missing. A baby and his teddy bear, and it sent Stephen flying off the bed and startling Tony awake in the process. He looks around the room wildly as Tony blinks himself to further awareness and then stops when his husband reaches out and firmly grabs his wrist.

"Babe, what's going on?" Tony asks tiredly.

"Peter is missing. He wasn't on the bed when I woke up and I don't see him anywhere-"

Stephen covers his mouth with his free hand and Tony looks down at the bed where Peter had previously been. His head snaps back up to meets Stephen's worried gaze with his own and he drops the sorcerer's hand as he jumps off the bed himself and stumbles to the bedroom door. It was partway open which was a sign that Peter had left the room (and Stephen mentally kicked himself for not noticing sooner), and they pull it open all the way and lean over the railing to look down to the floor below. The sight that met them instantly had the air in their lungs coming out in a relieved woosh. Scott was dozing on the couch, but Steve was on another, drawing on a sketchpad and Bucky was on the floor with Peter. The winter soldier was laying on his side with his head propped on his flesh arm as he watched tv, and Peter sat in front of him with magnets laying around him on the floor as well as attached to Bucky's metal arm.

Tony rubs his eyes as he and Stephen descend the stairs to join them. "How long has he been down here?"

Steve looks up at him before motioning toward  the dozing thief with his pencil. "About an hour. Scott was helping him down the stairs when we came up."

Peter looks up from Bucky's arm and smiles up at his parents. "Hi Daddy!"

It was such an innocent greeting, but it was so genuine that it had both Tony and Stephen melting. "Hi baby. Are you hungry?"

"No." Peter says as he looks back to the metal arm and Bucky looks up at them while the baby goes back to sticking magnets on them with giggles.

"I made him a snack when Steve and I came up." The former soldier informs them. "Crackers, a little bit of fruit...that kind of stuff."

Stephen and Tony nod and sit on the third couch to watch tv. The snack would only tide Peter over for a little while, but Bucky could be roped into making lunch for them when he got hungry again. Dinner, Stephen thinks to himself when he notices the time. He and Tony had taken a longer nap then they had planned. It wasn't like they really needed it either. So far Peter was being a wonderfully behaved baby (he knew a tantrum would happen in the future though), and he only woke up once during the night because of the nightmare. It must have been stress for Tony and residual magical exhaustion for Stephen.

When it got closer to dinner, the team came up to the penthouse one after the other and every single one of them stopped to stare at Peter. It was followed by a suspicious glance in Stephen's direction who had to repeat himself multiple times that 'No. I didn't do that. It was alien tech.' that it was starting to wear on him. Tony thought it was hilarious and told him that they weren't exactly wrong to suspect the sorcerer since he was obsessed with baby Peter. The baby that was currently being swaddled by Levi since Bucky had gotten up just a little bit ago to start dinner.

Peter was sucking his thumb and cuddling with his teddy bear while he watched tv, and periodically glanced into the kitchen when a certain noise caught his attention. Natasha had tried to pick up the baby but Levi wasn't having it. It smacked her away until she gave up and went to sit at the island counter to sample bits of dinner. Stephen turned to a book shortly after Bucky got up and Tony grabbed a tablet.

"Mama."

Peter looks at Stephen and holds his arms out, and the sorcerer gets up to retrieve the baby with a smile. As soon as Stephen takes Peter from the cloak, Levi unfurls itself to float next to its master and the doctor smacks it away when it raises an end to fuss at the baby.

"Stop that." Stephen scolds and Levi puffs up before returning to it's usual corner in the living room to sulk.

"Aww. Share the baby Mama Bear." Natasha says with a teasing coo. 

Stephen looks at her pointedly when Peter wraps his arms around the sorcerer's neck tighter. "Even if I wanted to, I can't."

Sam raises an eyebrow from his seat at the table. "You just don't want to."

"No. I actually can't." To prove his point, he drops both arms from Peter to show how tightly the baby was gripping onto him.

Clint laughs. "Here I thought Tony was overexxagerating about needing to use a crowbar."

Tony snorts from the couch. "No. Not about that. Peter is a Mama's boy."

The elevator opens behind Stephen, and Quill enters with Cassie, Harley, and Diana. Sam grins when the adult walks over to the still dozing Scott and moves his legs long enough to sit on the couch. Scott grumbles in his sleep and rolls onto his side to face the couch and Quill pats his legs with a smirk as the kids approach Stephen to see what the sorcerer is holding. Harley bursts into laughter when he sees the baby, Cassie's eyes widen, and Diana giggles.

"When did this happen?!" Harley asks after he calms from his laughing.

"Last night." Stephen replies as Peter clings even closer to him. "You were at your friend's house and Diana stayed downstairs with Cassie."

"My boyfriend is a literal baby. I don't even want to call him my boyfriend right now because that sounds so weird." Cassie says with a wince. "How aware is he?"

"As far as we know, not at all. He's acting like a two year old." Stephen says as Sam gets up and approaches them.

"Hey kid." The man says to get the baby's attention and then points over at Quill. The space pirate was paying no attention to them, watching whatever happened to be on tv. "See that guy?"

"Uh huh." The baby confirms.

"He stole your name. His name is Peter too." Sam says with a grin.

Stephen smacks the back of his head (something Sam deemed totally worth it) when baby Peter glared as furiously as his little face could manage at Quill, and the outlaw looks up when he feels eyes on him. Sniggers echo throughout the floor at the look on Peter's face, and since Quill hadn't been paying attention, he had no idea what warranted the baby fury. He literally did nothing but sit with Scott.

"Why the hell is pipsqueak glaring at me?" The pirate asks, a little miffed.

Sam cackles. "You stole his name."

"I stole his name?! It was mine first!" 

"Are you seriously arguing about a name?" Tony asks, looking up at Quill from his tablet.

"Bird-man started it--ow! Babe..." Quill grunts out when Scott opens an eye to kick his boyfriend in the gut.

"I'm trying to catch up on sleep. Quit arguing about a name." Scott closes his eye again.

"You might as well stay up," Wanda says and Scott sighs heavily. "Dinner is ready."

Everyone gathers in the kitchen for dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, most members at the table and everyone else either at the island counter or in the living room. Harley was too distracted watching Peter try to eat for a while, but that soon lost its appeal when Stephen helped the temporary baby. Cassie was pointedly ignoring Peter for her own sanity and helping Diana with her own food, and Scott had to prop his head on one of his hands to keep himself from falling asleep in his food. Conversations were random and happened between different people and it was all uneventful...until Peter threw a meatball at Quill's head.

For a two year old, he had quite the arm and hit the pirate's forehead right smack in the middle. Scott almost chokes on his mouthful of spaghetti at the development, but says nothing as he offers his boyfriend a napkin who takes it in silence to wipe the sauce of his face. Those at the table and that had seen the meatball fiasco, bursts into hysterics, and Stephen had to stop Peter from throwing a second one.

"No. We don't throw food." The sorcerer reprimands and the baby pouts. "Now apologize to Quill. He didn't deserve that."

"No." Peter grumps and drops the meatball before taking his arm out of Stephen's grasp so he can fold his arms.

"Peter." Stephen scolds and the boy only slouches into his seat.

Quill clears his throat and puts the napkin down after getting an okay from Scott. "I guess he doesn't want to see some new magic." Peter perks up a bit and the outlaw smirks. "I mean...he's seen Mom's magic but mine? Totally different."

Stephen watches as Peter has a mental war with himself, and the curious toddler immediately wins when Quill moves to stand. Peter reaches out with sauce covered hands in an attempt to stop the bigger man from leaving and Stephen takes the opportunity to grab the filthy hands and clean them off. The baby shouts out an apology, and Quill raises an eyebrow before sitting back down and holding out one of his hands. White light swirls above his palm and big brown eyes widen as it slowly shapes into a small sphere. The pirate closes his hand around it and gives it to the baby until Tony and Stephen stop him.

"It's fine! It won't hurt him unless I want it to." Quill assures them and rolls his eyes when the couple looks at him skeptically. "I'm not that mean! I did like the kid before he was miniaturized."

Tony and Stephen return to their dinner as Quill sets the small sphere of light into the toddler's hands, unaware of the fond way that Scott was watching him.

"Why don't you keep that? As long as I'm alive or as long as you want it, it will never go out."

"Hey Porcupine?" Quill looks over at Tony when the baby thanks the Celestial, and the engineer points at the ball with his fork. "That's not going to cause any damage or hurt anyone else if he decides to throw a tantrum is it?"

"Nope. It's just holdable light for him."

"Bummer. I was thinking about taking him to one of my meetings-" Tony starts.

"Tony, stop trying to weaponize our temporarily toddler son." Stephen interrupts. "That's something Harley would do.

Said teen looks up from his dinner with an indignant look. "Hey!"

Cassie snorts. "Don't deny it."

"Yeah...okay." Harley relents.

[caffeineivore]

Spirits (are y’all sick of me yet?)

More of the last. 

M/N, a bit of J (hints at R/J), cameos of people

**

He awakens with a groan and the ageless ache of bones reforming every night under stone turned skin. It’s an ache that he’s become accustomed to, and barely registers any more.  Nathalán’s body is relatively impervious to the elements and the changes in the weather, but it’s a windy night, and he draws his cloak-- miraculously intact and not threadbare, closer around his shoulders. The habit to look over to the roof hatch is harder to break, even though he knows well enough that Linden will never again come up to join him through that path. 

A twang and woosh of air-- familiar, long-unheard sounds-- has him swiveling, hand going towards a sword he’d not unsheathed in centuries. The soft but unmistakeable noise of an arrow being released from a longbow has not changed an iota in all these years, but before he can react, he sees Linden, winged and cruel-clawed, alighting next to where an arrow is embedded into the tile. She gives it an experimental tug, then moves to the edge of the roof. “I think it should hold well enough, considering you are an agile, light-footed lot. I wouldn’t recommend coming up a building this way to a mortal, though.”

The rope pulls taut, and Linden steps back, wings and claws receding. Her eyes find his face, blood red fading back to the soft, verdant green of a forest in spring, and much to his gratification, she smiles. “I have brought along visitors to meet you. They have promised to help.”

A blond head pops up, eyeing the surface of the roof inquisitively for a moment before the lean, lanky figure of a man vaults over the scaffolding. He’s wearing a dark cloak of some sort which unfurls in the wind, revealing a tunic clearly designed for ease of movement. A few moments later, he’s joined by two others, similarly clad, a man and woman with raven hair.

“Remarkable,” the blond stranger intones softly as he meets Nathalán’s gaze with a smile. “You’ve weathered the elements quite well then, haven’t you? They tell me your name is Sir Nathalán of Stormbrook Keep. I’m Jareth Sylvane, of the Ælf-kine, and these are my friends, Aeson and Aelene.” 

The graceful couple-- for they do, indeed, seem to be matched-- nod in greeting. “I have heard of the likes of you, but never met one before.” Nathalán sketches a courtly bow, though he’s fairly sure the movement is out-of-date with this here and now. He affords a smile at the lady, friendly but not flirtatious. “I do recall the bards singing of the beauty of the fair folk, and see that it is indeed no exaggeration.” 

 “The bards are an imaginative but flattering lot,” the lady returns merrily. She aims an arch look at her dark-haired husband. “Perhaps they have learned that sweet words can get them farther than blunt directives.” 

 “I’d give you all the sweet words in the world, my lady, if I thought for a moment that you’d accept them without suspecting my motives,” her husband rejoins wryly.

“Be that as it may, perhaps Jareth should employ sweet words of his own towards his own lady to thank her for her help.” The lady, Aelene, gives Nathalán a long, critical appraisal from all angles. “With a bit of polish and clean-up, perhaps a horse and a sword, you’d make a handsome addition to Central Park, Sir Knight.”

These words mean little to Nathalán, but it’s Linden who hastens to explain. “They will move you from the roof for when this building is taken down, and polish you up a bit before putting you up as statuary in the park. Jareth knows a lady whose family has some influence-- she will contact the necessary people to make the arrangements.” Her hand slips into his, strong and warm, and a faint smile crosses her beautiful face. “I suppose I’d have to get accustomed to seeing you as some valiant knight atop a galloping steed, after all. I suppose you were very dashing, back then.” Back when he was human and mortal and had not yet crossed paths so irrevocably with her, she means, and a part of him knows that she almost wishes it weren’t so-- that perhaps things would have been better had she left him to live out his old, perhaps very ordinary life. He barely remembers it, though, aside from vague flashes. 

“I am quite certain I was more brash than gallant,” he tells her, gazing into her eyes. Hundreds of years ago, when she’d materialized in front of him in the midst of her woods in a swirl of green leaves and gossamer, she’d been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Now, all this time later, in her peculiar blue canvas trousers, with snowflakes melting on her eyelashes, she still is. “I certainly have more memories of getting into mischief with the other lads in the Keep than impressing any of the maidens. Probably not the best use of my time, I daresay.”

“Alas, it is a common enough affliction for the male sex. I daresay we’ve all had our share of adventure and misadventure.” The blond Ælf-kine, Jareth, gives the dark-haired one a mischievous sort of smile. “Thankfully, one comes to one’s senses, eventually, when one meets and woos an Aelene, then promises, upon one’s troth, to keep out of trouble.”

“I’m sure that Aeson would beg to differ, and claim that he keeps me out of trouble as opposed to the alternative.” The Ælf-kine lady shares a long look with her husband, then a fleeting, secretive smile. “I shall not argue that I am his better half, though.” 

“No one would dare say otherwise.” Aeson lets out a quiet laugh, before turning towards Linden with a kindly air. “We will have to come for him in the morn, and take him hence. It may be a week or two before you can see him again, in the park, but you have our word that he will not be harmed, Linden of the Iele.”

Next to him, Linden nods, her fingers curling tighter around his. “You have my thanks, Ælf-kine, and for what it’s worth, my blessings.” The air stirs around them for a moment, with something thicker and charged, something more substantial than the wind. “You will tell me when I can see him again, and where to find him.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question, and Nathalán can all but hear the pulse of underlying power in the imperious tones of her voice. 

“Of course.” The blond, Jareth, pulls out one of those cunning little boxes with the flashy screens much alike Linden’s own. “I have your number. I’ll text you.” 

She nods, and then raises an eyebrow as Jareth picks up the end of the rope that he’d climbed up on, and disappears over the edge of the roof a moment later. “You guys are seriously about to climb down the side of the building again?”

“‘Tis not so different from a sequoia, from the wilds of California where we’d stayed for a decade on our way here,” Aelene says blithely. “If anything, stone is sturdier than that wood.” She smiles at Linden, then at himself. “Be good to your lady, Sir Knight. She cares for you greatly.” And with a swirl of cloak and a nimble step, she, too, disappears over the scaffolding, quickly followed by her husband. And then, it’s just the two of them again, on that roof. Usually, Linden brings some victuals with her, but today, she simply pulls a flask out of a pocket of those tight, sturdy-looking blue trousers of hers, takes a swig and hands it to him.

It’s smokey and sweeter than ale, with a good solid kick of liquor. “It’s cognac,” she tells him as he takes a sip. “The good stuff. I figure if I’m not to see you for a few days, and you’re moving onto a new home, you could use some liquid courage.”

He knows it’s her way of attempting to be brave and comforting for the both of them, and he almost wants to pull her into his embrace, hold her so tightly that nothing can pass between them-- not air, and not magic. Watch the sunrise over her shoulder and let his limbs freeze into stone solidity around her so that she can’t leave. But that is the selfish sort of thought of the sort of man unworthy of her, who’d care more about imposing his own will than her comfort or freedom. So instead, he sips the fiery drink, and kisses the top of her head. Her hair smells like sunlight on mossy wood and fresh cut grass and everything lovely and vital and alive. “Liquid courage, hmm? I don’t think I ever lacked in courage, perhaps more’s the pity. But it is warm, and sweet, and I will carry that within me until I can see you again.”

Her breath escapes in a soft sigh against his neck, and together, they keep vigil on this, their final night on this particular bit of crumbling sanctuary, hearts beating in tandem until the sun rises in the distance. It’s a burst of orange light and then a chill fog which creeps in upon him, covering his eyes and all of his senses, freezing his limbs in their position. But this time, when the morning comes, the last thing he feels is the warmth of her fingers in his. 

[adventures-in-progress]

life updates!

so in the spirit of radical authenticity imma be completely transparent about some life stuff shaking out for us right now and why i’ve kinda been on and off the grid for a little over a year now. i’ve realized it’s really difficult to create meaningful connections with people when both parties aren’t being honest and true, so here’s me laying it all out. basically butt naked. i’ve only shared this with like 2 people in real life, so what the heck might as well share this with a bunch of total and complete strangers for the sake of meaningful connection! this is probs gonna be fairly wordy so here’s a page break so i don’t eat up someone’s entire dash haha.

1. since undergoing a lot of personal growth stuff and trying to define what this big adventure called life means for me, it’s been really hard for me to post on here. it just hasn’t felt in alignment for me to do so and trying to be present on here otherwise has felt a lot like forcing it any slapping on a happy face when, in all honesty, there’s been a lot of feeling very not happy. i’ve also felt like i’ve had to fit this certain image that i was when a lot of faces decided to join me on my journey, and so posting on here started feeling a lot like doing it for other people than continuing to do it for myself. so, i stepped back. i didn’t feel like people would understand, i didn’t feel like wanting to remember some heartache and icky stuff that happened, and i didn’t want to post stuff until i wanted to post stuff for me and because it was fun again. it was a healthy break and much needed.

2. i’m finally getting out of a funk that’s lasted a couple months and has been really not fun. i feel like my natural, uninhibited state is joyful and bright and optimistic and that got really tainted and hidden. i lost my hope in humanity and felt like all my dreams and goals were impossible and far from reach. things just felt kinda hopeless and that feeling was so scary because that’s so, so not me. i’m the girl that everyone calls childlike and naive because i believe in dreams and fairies and angels and magic and that love always prevails and that everyone should do what they love, with their soulmate, and live happily ever after. i lost that, and that was terrifying, because i didn’t know how to get back. but i think when you get deep enough into the self help arena, you reach this point where it all really comes down to being happy and doing what you love. regardless of anything. and i think we’re all just looking for permission to do that big, terrifying thing that makes our heart flutter and our stomach churn in knots. at the end of the day, you were born here, on this green and blue ball whirling through space, with your specific dreams and desires for a purpose. and i believe you are meant to do something with that, regardless of whether you receive money, or fame, or recognition for it. i realized over the summer that i’ve spent sooooo much time and energy and emotional investment trying to fix things for people and save people and help them accomplish their dreams, all the while completely neglecting and ignoring my own desires and dreams. and honestly, that’ll slowly kill ya. if you’re not living your life for yourself, why the heck are you even here???? what’s the point???

3. me pursuing running was a total cop out. it’s been my backup plan because i’ve been too terrified of pursuing ~the thing~ and getting my heart broken, so this was the safe alternative. minimal emotional investment. still get to achieve things and work towards something. but here’s the dang thing. the universe/god/whatever you want to call it wants you to do the thing, and is going to do what it can to get you there. cue multiple running injuries and setbacks. like one after the next after the next. it just was not working. and when i finally got to that place where i realized that this was not working, i lost it. because it made me realize that i felt like i couldn’t have running or the other thing. but not because i couldn’t do the thing, but because my brain killed that option off in my head because it wasn’t safe. the emotional risk was too high. what if i gave it my all and failed???? what if it never worked and i never got there???? and many other numerous intense irrational fears. BUT if you don’t ever go for what makes you feel excited to get out of bed even if it makes you want to pee your pants and question your sanity, WHAT IS THE POINT OF ANY OF THIS???? to live a boring, stable, mediocre life? to live a safe life is to choose boredom and misery for the rest of your life because it’s “comfortable” and “safe” according to your brain, and i reached the point that i just couldn’t do it anymore. i couldn’t be miserable and “safe” anymore. it was killing me.

4. so last month, i spent a couple days in an intense, intense internal emotional battle with myself. wanting to commit (let alone admit that i even wanted) to pursuing my dreams, but being so fucking terrified at the same time. and i understand that it sounds so stupid! like looking back, i’m like WHY was that SO hard???? your brain can be a huge pain in the ass, let me tell ya. sweet dan snuggled me one night when i was really struggling and talked me through things while being the voice of reason to my irrational fears and got me to the place where i could finally admit that i wanted to do the thing. and holy moly just admitting to something like that will change your dang life. it was like a woosh of tension and stress and weight just left my body. like that. done.

5. so here i am, like 3 weeks later, finding myself. going back to 7 year old me with the dreams and the joy and the possibility. looking for the good and finding it. mentally committing to going for it, whatever the hell that means or will even look like. but it has radically transformed my life in the best of ways. i’m killing any and all “have tos” and “shoulds” in my life. i’m doing what feels fun and breezy and brings the light back into my eyes. it’s all baby steps, and i still falter and fall, but i can feel where i’m going to be and finding my way back easier and quicker every time. i’m telling you, this is what makes life worth living. 

6. dan’s also realized his life calling and dream this past month (yeah. october’s been real big for us hahah)!!! he’s gone from working at the fbi in d.c. to going to become an agent for the fbi office in milwaukee to meeting me (love will change your life in more ways than you realize) and not realizing what the heck he wants to do, to landscaping, flipping houses, and over the summer realizing he wants to be an architect that specializes in modern, organic, sustainable architecture. we’re looking at schools for him for next fall. :)

7. right now, dan’s boss just bought a new house on lake michigan as the next flip. we’re doing a proposal for a modern flip to this two story ranch in the next week or so, so if that goes through, prepare to see some fun house renovation progress pics! we’re really excited for the opportunity, and my dad (a prominent architect in mke) is overseeing our project and helping dan which is just going to be so, so cool. it’ll be soooo much fun if it happens, so fingers crossed!!!!

oh! if you’re wondering what the heck the thing is for me, it’s horses. it always has been. it’s been in there since is was 5 or 6. i don’t know how this dream is going to shake out, but it’s mine, and i’m owning it.

if you need permission to go for it, if you need a sign, this is it. it is worth it. the universe/god/whatever is not going to give you a dream that it will not fully support you in achieving. you just gotta fucking go for it. it’s scary, but we’re all in this together and there’s nothing more badass and fulfilling than going for it. if you need a dream buddy, reach out. i will 100000% support you.

[kelleyish]

Man, tomorrow is gonna be a DAY for entertainment.  I’m seeing Avengers Endgame at 11 a.m., and then in the evening the next episode of Game of Thrones is on.  Between the two of them, there is the potential of seeing so many beloved characters die lol.  Like I’m sure they’ll find a way to save the dusted people from Infinity War but I imagine others will be sacrificed in the process.  And they don’t even need a reason to kill people on Game of Thrones.

Speaking of Avengers...on Friday I opened up the Cinemark app and looked at the theatre nearby.  I was curious how full the showings were.  I couldn’t believe what i was seeing as I scrolled through the listings - there were SO MANY showings of Avengers.  I counted them up - 66 separate showings of the movie in one day.  Like every 15 or 20 minutes a new one started.  And they were all almost entirely sold out.  This movie is going to make so much money.  I kind of wish I’d driven up there just to see how full the parking lot was.

I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers the last few days.  I saw something on Tumblr earlier in the week that I’m not positive was a spoiler or just like a made up thing.  It wasn’t a huge deal if it’s real but I don’t like to be spoiled at all going into things.  Honestly I wish I could have seen only the first teaser of Endgame and nothing after that, but you just can’t avoid them all.  

Shark week showed up a few days ago, and it’s been a big one.  It’s a good thing I wear a lot of black because I kept bleeding all over my clothes.  Stupidly I didn’t take an extra tampon when we went to the gym Friday and I had to go to the bathroom and stuff toilet paper in my underwear.  I even managed to get some on my parents couch. :-(

The upside is that after the period-sponsored retaining of water, I think I’m now getting rid of it, along with some of its friends, and I’m hoping for an excellent weigh-in on Monday.  I spent two weeks at the same weight, so I’m due for a “woosh.”  It would be nice if I could drop at least 6 pounds and glimpse the 300-teens (as in 319 or less), which I haven’t seen in about 4 1/2 years.  

Next weekend I’m planning a quick trip to Austin.  Originally I was planning on taking a trip by myself on the 5th anniversary of Chip’s death, which is Monday, but I ended up deciding I didn’t want to go somewhere alone, figuring it would make me feel even more lonely.  So I decided to go stay with my brother in Austin instead, and I’d originally planned it to be a longer stay where I went off and did things alone.  But then I realized that an awful lot of the things I imagined doing were eating, and perhaps I shouldn’t set myself up for a week’s worth of eating junk food.  So now it’s been scaled back to either a Friday-Monday or Saturday-Monday thing.  I still haven’t decided how much I’m going to cheat with food.  On the one hand, vacations are for living, on the other, last weekend was very painful trying to pull myself back from the brink after one day of Coke and McDonalds.  

[hcnnybcnny-archive]

💛 !!! ...... ❤️💔 ~ >w>

pre-established relationship meme ; @krupnickery

❤️send to have a romantic ship with my muse

💛send to have a platonic ship with my muse 

💔send for a slow burn romance with my muse 

   Hi yes sign me up for that slowburn romance friends to lovers trope. Because let me tell you. Let me TELL YOU that it’s one of my favorite tropes. Sign me up for these vintage gals growing over the decades and supporting each other into the ‘oldies’ they are today. From back in the day when they both had nothing and had to do whatever they could, push through so much bullshit, in order to prove themselves. Both suffering at the hands of redesigns, shitty people in their lives, being put down constantly or treated differently because of ‘how they looked’. Finding solidarity and support in another because they both understand the absolute BULLSHIT they both went through. Jessica building Honey up after redesign and redesign, never being good enough for the company, and being able to see and understand what pains it brought Honey. Those sleepless nights and tears of not being good enough, not being perfect enough, having to change constantly and still not be what they wanted! This mutual understanding of waking up with nightmares and fears after suffering at the hands of others.

  Vintage gals that have seen it all, seen all the bullshit, and supported another over the years. This ride or die duo. Serenading the audience with vocals aplenty, dancing together in swaying rhythms, Jessica singing and Honey playing an instrument alongside her. Women that prove they are more than just there for the mens appeal. Sign me up for vintage gals on stages going from a beautiful serenade to just having fun and acting goofy together.

 Sign me up for these two who are friends who support another so well and see more than just their physical attributes. Honey loving Jessica for her talents, her beautiful voice and stunning presence that makes Honey’s heart soar when Jessica overtakes the room, and finding beauty in everything about Jessica regardless of her appearance. Never once just viewing Jessica as a pretty face. Rather those flustered looks and surprised actions are often because she views Jessica as so perfect, so stunning and talented, that she often is overwhelmed by the fact Jessica would even want her around. Jessica liking Honey for being funny and not just the WB studios ‘token female of the past’. Jessica seeing Honey actually being funny, not just arm and eye candy, and viewing Honey’s talents as a singer and comedian as charming factors regardless of that the studio said she could or couldn’t do.

  Sign me up for those moments where Jessica is sitting there and laughing cause Honey is ruining a mans life for daring to mess with Jessica. Where Jessica can freely laugh or joke around and Honey encouraging her to do so until they’re both on the floor together cracking up with tears spilling from their eyes in pure blissful laughter as they hug until the laughter dies down and they’re both so happy to just have that moment.

 Give me those supportive moments where they understand the others flaws or concerns and work with them. Where Jessica is worried about her feet and Honey, being a fashion designer in the past, designing shoes for her so she can have fun. In the past, long ago, Honey gifting her a pair of ice skates tailored right to her feet and then pulling Jessica onto the ice with her. Give me Jessica seeing shoes she likes and Honey spending hours at night making exact replicas and leaving them in small boxes on her porch to be found with a little note signed ‘HB’ in cursive.

 Give me those vintage stuff where Honey, in canon, couldn’t cook worth a damn in the past and Jessica encouraging her. And now, decades later, Honey being an amazing chef right along with Jessica. Those late girls nights where they bake together in matching aprons and decorate their baked goods. Occasionally getting into mini food fights and laughing at the others messes in the process. Jessica trying to fight back laughter as Honey sniffs something and gets batter on her nose and is just twitching her nose nonstop. Jessica attempting to wipe it off as Honey bats her away like “I GOT IT HANG ON” but then ultimately she fails and it just ends with a hankie from Jessica upon her face and her cheeks reddened as Jessica teases her.

Give me Honey picking up Jessica for trips around the world in her planes, her automobiles, showing off her latest vehicle. Whether it be a jet-ski or her motorcycle she’s going to show it off to Jessica and give Jessica a ride. Give me Honey floating in on a parasol and asking Jessica if she wants to go ‘shopping in Paris’ and holding her hand out. Jessica taking her hand and Honey’s parasol wooshing them away up to the sky as Jessica clings tightly to Honey and Honey never lets her go even for a second.

Give me those moments where they’re friends but sometimes, sometimes, the other has an effect on them like no other. That knee weak, breath taken, awestruck, complete ‘what is this feeling’ effect. Those moments where they’re alone and it’s quiet and they’re both snuggled up, just the two of them, and the world doesn’t seem to matter. Just those moments when their hands intertwine and, when the other pulls away, noticing how much they long again for that contact. Yet not understanding why. That moment far in the future where they soon realize just what that feeling is and it’s almost IRONIC how after knowing another so long it took them until that moment to realize it. And that moment is probably so mundane. One of them is cooking breakfast, hair in curlers, joking about their day, and the other just sitting there with chin in hands watching this completely mundane action and just knowing.

[wetwellie]

Small Bit from my Star Trek AU

When Captain Hall ordered Jack to go down to their new navigator, Ensign Eric Bittle’s quarters, “to check up on him”, he hadn’t expected anything like this. He expected to deal with homesickness, drug abuse, a bad breakup that leads to an uncomfortable work environment, or an injury that hasn’t been reported to the medical wing because it was caused during one of those kegsters that the crew frequently holds. Y’know. Regular issues with the crew on the USS Samwell. Instead. He gets...well. Jack is having a hard time grasping what he’s looking at. 

“Did you bring five year’s worth of baking supplies onto this starship, ensign?” Jack asks, trying to keep his voice as level as possible as he looks over the shoulder of Bittle and into his room. It looks to be insulated with the bags of flour, sugar, shortening, and a plethora of canned and preserved goods that line the walls. How he managed to stow these on board, Jack didn’t know. But he’d talk with those officers soon enough. 

Bittle gulps audibly. “No, sir. I did not. I only brought enough to last me until my next shore leave”

Jack pulls out his datapad and starts typing and swiping away furiously.  “Your next shore leave isn’t for another 3 months”  “But it’s a lot less than 5 years ” 

“I can count 12 5kg bags of flour in that corner alone. How is that 3 months worth?”

Bitty looks down at his feet and mumbles something.  “Speak up, Bittle”

“It’s not for me, sir. Or, rather, it’s not just for me. I thought that it would be a good way to start on the right foot if I made something for everyone at least once a day. Or twice. Because sometimes there are people busy during the morning and they can’t get a slice,”  Bittle rambles helplessly. The guy looks like he’s about to cry. Jack briefly wonders how he got through the academy. They’ll just let anyone in, he figures. “But sir. I mean Zimmermann. Second officer. Mr. Jack? Lieutenant? Commander? Sorry. What rank are you?” “Lieutenant-commander” 

“Right. Two stripes, two words. Got it. Okay,” Bittle says “Lieutenant-commander, sir. I will be more than willing to limit my baking to only once a day.”

Jack purses his lips, counts to three in his head, and then says -- calmly, yet sternly-- “Ensign, you can’t bake at all. Having all of these ingredients, unregulated, travelling through deep space, on a vessel with crewmen and women who may have allergies--and that’s just thinking of the humans-- is a violation of several regulations.” “You think I didn’t take into consideration the potential of allergic reaction? I’ve tested all of my recipes? Sir, forgive the informality, but this isn’t my first rodeo in the xenoculinary studies. I’ve double checked each of my recipes to make sure that everything is safe to eat for every species serving aboard this ship. If that is the issue with my baking, then please don’t worr-” “Ensign, it’s not just the risk of allergies. Each member of the crew has been given a strict diet to follow, and eating these deserts has way too much value than needs to be consumed in a day”

“A piece of pie here and there isn’t going to destroy the crew’s fitness. Not when you have us each work out every day.” He explains. “The positives outweigh the negative, sir. I should be able to continue for the good of morale” Bittle is gaining more confidence with every defense. He’s standing up straighter, hands held behind his back in a parade rest. His eyes are staring back at Jack’s.This should be the norm. Instead, this determination feels like a challenge. He’s not going to back down.  “Regardless of all of those points, Ensign Bittle, there is still something deeply concerning about your behavior that endangers the whole crew” Jack starts “You can’t bake without using some form of heat. How are you able to bake without using a device that doesn’t threaten to explode?” Jack can see Bittle grin for a moment before returning to the same focus he had before. “I know that the idea of ovens are 200 years old, but you should know that they aren’t known to explode. Can they die on you? Yes. Can they cook food unevenly? Of course. That’s beside the point though. I don’t even have an oven on this ship. Could you imagine trying to lug one on?” Jack couldn’t imagine trying to lug 36 jars of jam on board, but that’s besides the point. 

“So how do you bake your stuff?” “I have a friend in engineering” Jack pauses “I don’t see how that has to do with anything” “Mr. Zimmermann, that has to do with everything.” Bitty says. “I’ll give you a moment to think about it” Jack paused to try to wrap his head around it, but failed to come up with anything.  “Do you need a hint?” Jack doesn’t say anything to that.  “Okay. I’ll give you one. It’s something that the engineers always complain about when maintenance comes around, because they say that the suits they have to wear feel like a cactus and sandpaper had a baby” 

It clicked. All Jack could say was “No way” Bitty nodded, seeming a bit proud of himself.  “You are not using the warp core’s coils for that”

“I’ve never gotten a more evenly baked pie. The temperature in there is almost always around 480K, so that means I can’t make the fluffiest of cakes. But I make do” 

“And who is the officer who aides you in placing your pies there?” “I took a couple classes in Warp Core repairs as a gen ed back in the academy, so I know what I’m doing if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to get hurt.” “That wasn’t the question. Who gave you the codes and the suit to get it”

“Um” “We don’t have an officer named Um on board, to my knowledge. So it must be someone else” 

Then, like a deus ex machina coming to save the day, Jack hears a voice coming up from behind him. “Come on, man. Don’t make the new kid break our planet’s most ancient, and sacred no snitching policy.”  Jack doesn’t even need to turn around to know who was standing behind him. Turning around to address him in his relative state of undress was merely good manners. 

“Shitty. I mean, Lieutenant Knight. Please don’t interfere with me doing my job.”  “If your job means that you’re taking away the best damn pie I’ve ever eaten, then there’s gonna be a revolt” 

“This man is risking himself in order to make pie. I can’t have that” “And the recreational fighting tournaments that we have on Sundays isn’t risking ourselves? Let it slide” “I don’t see why I should” Shitty turns to look at Bittle and snapping his fingers at him. “Bits do you have any of last night’s pie left over in there?” He shakes his head.  “I think Ransom might have some in his mini fridge. Let me check.”  Shitty dashes down the hall to a couple doors over, leaving the two of them in a painfully awkward silence. Jack decides to listen as Shitty comms Ransom, who Jack knows is working in the labs at the moment.  “Hey man sorry to borrow you but I need you to let me into your quarters” Shitty says into the comm. There is a muffled response. “I need your pie. No no no! It’s not for me... It’s not for Lardo either... I know I said that last time but trust me it’s true...It’s not my fault that you wanted to save it for later! ... come on man. It’s a matter of emergency... No it’s not munchies. I could go to a replicator for that. Jack needs it...The needs of the many outweigh the needs of you, man. No. He can’t wait until tonight...Because if I do not give him your slice of pie, there won’t be a tonight...Oh shit. Rans. Breathe. You’ll get your pie tonight...I know you’re working very hard...lab work sucks ass. All that, uh, centrifugal shit...Thanks man. I owe you.” 

Shitty hangs up, the door wooshes open, and he dashes inside.  “Ransom. Dr. Oluransi, I mean, works too hard in that lab of his.” “He does his best” “He stretches himself too thin.” Bittle shakes his head “He hardly left the lab for the first two weeks I was on board. I had to deliver the pie to him. We all cheered the first time that he came to the mess hall to pick up his slice himself”

Shitty runs back with the pie, a piece of it already piled onto a plastic spork. “Jackie boy I’m gonna need you to open wide.”  Shitty doesn’t let Jack take the fork for himself. Instead, they share a conversation with just their eyes that ends in Shitty staring him down with an expression Jack took to translate as “If you don’t let me feed you, then our friendship is cancelled”

Reluctantly, Jack opens his mouth. In front of Bittle. Who he’s supposed to be superior to. This is why Jack hasn’t gotten his own ship. Because he’s weak. And gets fed pie.

Really good pie. 

Holy shit.

Jack may or may not have made a noise.  He turns to Bittle, who is looking a mix of confidence and nauseated. His skin turned a sickly green. Jack figures it must be the pressure. Jack claps him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Any objection I have is withdrawn. Just try to add some supplements to it like protein and we’ll be fine.” 

He removes his hand from Bittle’s shoulder and turns to take his leave.  After he turns the corner, he hears Shitty, faintly telling Bittle that he should go to the med bay because he’s looking a bit green. Jack tries not to feel guilty. If Bittle didn’t want a nerve wracking confrontation, he should have cleared it with command beforehand. 

He returns to the bridge and finds Captain Hall.  “I spoke with Bittle” “And?” “He’s a good guy. Looks out for the good of the crew” “So he agreed to bring me and Murray a slice?”

Jack sits down at his post and buries his hands in his face.  “I’ll make sure it’s arranged, sir”

[audio-luddite]

I changed my avatar.

I liked the old photo, but I sold that Glass TT a few years ago. It was a lovely kinetic sculpture and an adequate Turntable. It was awkward for me to use at my advancing age with the lid and the way it opened.

So being a gone thing it was time to change the image.

It was worth a fair bit of money. What I got for it basically covered the two new TTs I bought and those phono cartridges. Right now I am at break even.

That is a nice side effect of buying old classic stuff. You can get back most of your investment. In the case of the old Glass beast I made a decent profit. I had the thing for decades.

The full size picture of the current boss TT is here.

This is the Phase Linear 8000 / Pioneer L1000a Linear tracking TT with the Grado Opus Cartridge. Very neat and clean and easy to use. Oh and it sounds really good.

I remember one thing that stood out in early CDs was how quiet they could be. LPs were assumed to always tick and hiss a bit. I remember those days. Most old electronics had "rumble filters" to reduce the background bearing noise and foot falls. I am playing mostly old (40 years plus) LPs and they are basically silent with this beast. Occasionally there is a tick or something. Once in a while there will be a woosh of noise for a second. Probably from a drop of spilled drink at some party decades ago. Generally the background is silent.

I still have a way to go in comparing those CDs to their respective LPs, but some other things have firmed up.

Most of the sacred knowledge of audiophiles is just opinion. It is really hard to distinguish different from better. It is important to distinguish that. A lot of products are recommended because they sound different and that difference is liked. I have come to believe that most of that opinion is on very shaky ground.

I have a hard specific example noted in an earlier post. Those "tesla" tubes I got sounded really nice. They definitely added an interesting character to the sound that I liked. Read my initial post under "tubular dude". Insert rant that electronic devices that should perform the same electrically "sound" different. Logically that should not be.

Logic is a rare thing in high end audio.

BUT I know now that sound was from a mechanical flaw in the tube construction. They were VERY microphonic. The sound of the music got back to the preamp and vibrated the tubes which in turn vibrated the tiny metal parts that do the electrical job which in turn modulated the signal. As the preamp was about 10 feet from the nearest speaker there was a 0.01 ish second delay and effectively a sustaining reverb.

Microphones generally use tiny bits of metal in electric or magnetic fields to detect vibration. When the high gain devices themselves are not solidly built to prevent vibration internally they actually add sound. That is called distortion.

Vacuum tubes are mechanical things. They have tiny coils of wire. They have little plates and are held together with tiny rods and wires. If they can move they will. If they move they will modulate the sound. If you have no input signal and shout at a high gain tube, sound can come out of your system. It is effectively a microphone. So is it likely that people who select vacuum tubes for the sound are actually selecting mechanically defective products? I think that is a yes.

When I found sound coming out of my system from touching a button that had a mechanical click, or tapping the case, I took the cover off the preamp and started substituting tubes, searching for the culprit(s). Eventually I started holding them up to my ear and flicking them with my finger. Some had strong ting sounds and even rang. Others just the sound of a glass tube. When I excluded the ringing ones my preamp returned to normal. Some Tesla tubes were still there.

So here we have tubes that I found were defective yet sounded good.

They were discounted and the vendor probably knew this. I liked the sound, but it was a distortion and not part of the original recording.

Elsewhere I have read where people prefer the sound of certain distortion. For a time you could buy devices that added reverb and synthetic acoustics to your stereo. They found buyers. If people buy what they like, and like a particular sound that is not a measure of accuracy.

A building or room with "good" acoustics has a sound of its own. A good concert hall is expected to add sound and good recordings capture that. It would be comparatively easy to build concert halls and recording venues to be close to anechoic. They would not add any sound, and be very dead and even unpleasant sounding. Room sound that is part of the recording is good when it is real. The Cowboy Junkies Trinity Sessions were recorded in a church with excellent sound, and it is part of the performance. That is also one reason that recording is so popular, it is real.

Hearing that room sound on a recording is accurate. Adding pleasant sounds to it is not.

There are many suspect products that add pleasant sounds. Many tube power amps have audible even harmonic distortions and are liked because of that. Speakers that send sounds out the back and add space and air by bouncing it off walls are not being accurate, but pleasant. I also the same can be said for moving coil phono pickups.

I read a review of a moving magnet phono cartridge (that I later bought) by a golden ear who praised it as "being closest to the master tapes". Yet his personal system favorite was a far more expensive moving coil. People who actually use master tapes to cut LPs do not use moving coil cartridges to audit their work for apparently good reasons.

I think you can get a very accurate and honest sounding system for quite reasonable money if you know what to look for.

I am trying for accuracy.

[sports-and-fandoms]

Dark interruptions {James T Kirk x reader}

 Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of update on this story, I’ve been extremely busy. Anyway, here’s the third part of “Not Mine To Hold”. If you have no clue as to what I’m talking about, please read the previous parts. Btw, I watched Wonder Woman today. Finally! I LOVED Gal Gadot. The movie was so good. I might be biased, but I think Steve Trevor is the most precious person in the world. Like, Chris did a fabulous job as Steve. Also, I think that anyone named Steve should be kept away from planes that contain bombs. I can’t deal with similar incidents! ONE TIME WAS ENOUGH! 

Warning: A few curse words, like shit and ass, nothing major… angst maybe? 

Words: 1135 words

Part 1 Part 2

Back to the reader’s point of view. Happy reading!! Btw, so many references! Kudos if you can find all of them. Some aren't obvious. Some are. Good luck!

Words had such power. When ever someone got hurt, they would blame the situation or a person, never the words that were uttered. Some words could wreck lives some could break a person’s spirit. 

Today, words had almost broken you. Words said three years ago were long forgotten but left a bitter aftertaste. Words could be poisonous and destructive. 

People always forgot the power of words until they were addressed towards them. Until they actually sank in.

All day, today, you kept telling yourself that things couldn’t possible be any worse. The man that had been your best friend for over two decades, the man you were madly in love with, was ignoring you and marrying another woman. Worst of all, you were given a front row seat as you watched everything you ever wanted being handed to another. And let’s not forget the smile you had to plaster on your face so that people wouldn’t get suspicious. 

Yet again, the Universe hated you. Karma was a piece of shit and your life was the pièce de résistance in a world of utter despair. You were sure that someone, somewhere was looking down upon you and laughing their ass off over the misery that was your life. And so, to make it more miserable, the message had come through.

The only possible thing that could have made this whole situation all the more shitty. 

As you sat in a shuttle heading back to San Francisco, the words kept ringing in your mind. Over and over again.

Now see, someone like you only had a couple of things that made you happy. Friends (mainly your best friend), family, your job and your dog, Merlin. You called him Merl or Merli for short. He was a beautiful black Labrador that had befriended your neighbour’s golden retriever, that reminded you eerily of Arthur Pendragon. And so, the name. It was ADORABLE!  

{I REST MY CASE!}

From these limited amount of things, you could check off best friend, Merlin was at your neighbour’s place playing chase my tail with Arty, and all your family was off planet. So the only thing you really had left was your job. 

…

Until now.

The words “Explosion in lab, experiment compromised” were the last words you EVER wanted to hear or read in your entire life. An experiment that you had spent 3 years on, was gone. Woosh! Into thin air!

While for most, it wouldn’t have been a big issue, mishaps happened. For you, it was the end. This experiment had taken meticulous planning, preparation and a huge amount of money. It would save lives in the near future, and it was gone. 

Things couldn’t possibly have gone worse. And that was the last straw that broke the dam. 

So here you were, on a damn shuttle, crying at the mess your life was. You didn’t even know if someone had been injured or killed. Everything was a mess. 

Two hours later.

San Francisco was a beautiful city. Even though it had been almost a decade since Khan’s attack, some of the damage was still being repaired. People were still reeling from the trauma brought from the entire incident.

Some people would never forget. 

As you walked trough the streets leading to the Starfleet labs, you remembered. Because as much as you tried, you could never forget that day.  

How could you forget the day when some of your closest friends were slaughtered by the hands of a psychopath? {A.N: Or High-functioning sociopath… sorry, couldn’t resist :/ } How could you forget the moment you received the news of Pike’s death? 

How you wished to forget. To forget the broken look in Jim’s eyes. The tears shed by the man you loved in grief of losing a second father. The dark night where neither of you slept, seeking comfort in each others arms. The night that was spent in silence, in memory of a dear friend. 

You wished you could forget the unseeing blue eyes that sometimes still haunted your nightmares. You wished you could, one day, walk by the the warp core chamber without flinching or feeling dizzy. 

The walk to the labs was spent in a daze, and then you saw it. Your precious lab. The lab that contained the antidotes to many illnesses. As you walked towards it, you saw them. Dead bodies laid on the ground, waiting to be brought to the hospital. 

Oh God, you thought. So many lives lost. As you walked towards the security guard standing near the main door, your comm beeped. 

“Y/L/N“

“Y/N, its Jemma.“

Jemma was one of the scientists that worked for you.

“Hey. I just got here. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m near the water fountain, at the main entrance.“

“On my way. Y/L/N out.“

You sped walked until you reached Jemma.

“Oh my God, Jem, are you okay? What happened? Did you get checked by the EMTs?“

“Hey, Y/N. Calm down, I’m fine. Oh God, I was so close to the explosion. I don’t-I don’t know what happened. I just don’t know.”

You were about to reply when you saw Admiral Baker walk towards you. 

“Commander Y/L/N, Lieutenant Simmons.“

“Admiral“, you both replied.

You spoke first.

“Sir, do you know what happened here?“

“You tell me Doctor.“

“Pardon me, but what exactly are you implying, Sir?”

“Dr. Y/L/N, it is clear to me that this explosion was a lab mistake.“

“I assure you Admiral, none of my people broke protocol. My lab is like my house, I spend days and night here, working and so does every single person that works for me. I have full faith in my scientists, they will never endanger the lives of others, and above all, they would never compromise our years worth of hard work.“

“Doctor, I mean no disrespect but-“

“Pardon me Admiral, but I do not think we should jump to any conclusions until we get a full report from forensics.“

“Very well. Doctors.“

With a nod and a slight glare in your direction, the Admiral turned around and left. 

One hour later.

7:20 pm.

You were approached by the lead forensic scientist assigned to the incident.

“Are you Doctor Y/L/N?“

“Yes.“

“My name is Melanie Stabler. I’m here to brief you on our conclusion. The Admirals have been briefed already so now it is your turn. We believe that this incident was no accident. According to our findings, an explosive device was set to detonate in the L-25 wing, your lab. We believe that the device was most likely placed in room L-102, meani-“

Your comm beeped again, interrupting her mid sentence.

You gestured for her to hold on a second.

“Y/L/N.“

“Y/N, its Jim. I-“

Another explosion rang out, and everything went black.

To be continued. 

I feel like such a Steven Moffat right now. Damn cliffhangers, I can’t stop! Sorry, this part didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to. I hope you guys liked it. I LOVE reading the comments and reblog tags. So please comment and write funny stuff so that it gives me motivation to write more. Until next week, folks!

TAGS:

I believe this is the complete tag list, somehow Tumblr keeps deleting my final list… If I forgot to tag you, send me a message. 

@wonders-of-the-enterprise @samaxraph99 @saveatruckrideoptimusprime@curiosity-killed-the-speedster @yourtropegirl @engineeringtrashcan @a-mermaid-in-space  @goingknowherewastaken @eufeme @hayleynightcore @avengersgirllorianna