#yes I am bitching about pathfinder again

[rippedshadow]

every time a ttrpg has an exquisite text block about how cool and ability is and then the mechanics are just "make a single attack with +1 non-stacking-with-anything bonus to damage, but only if you stand in like, dim light. Not darkness, though, just dim light." or something I kind of want to grab a designer by the ankle and recreate that one scene with Hulk and Loki. Stop it, stop making me sift through these, I don't care "older editions of the game were way worse about this kind of thing!" or "It's really good in specific campaigns!" I am so tired of sifting through situational bullshit that has to compete directly against "thing that makes your class actually function"

[aliquistis]

On Mystra and Gale

Okay I gotta say it.

tl;dr: Gale is too old to have been groomed by Mystra (unless you headcanon him as 30 or younger), bc she was dead until 1479 (game year is 1492). I am not defending Mystra. Mystra is a mess. Her (FR) writing is a mess. But for this at least, the timeline doesn't add up.

Disclaimer: there is absolutely nothing wrong with people disregarding/tweaking lore for fan works/fanfic. God knows I do it all the time when I GM. That's your story now and you can do whatever you want with it, including exploring problematic relationships like what if Gale was groomed by Mystra? This is just a post for general information. Write what you want. Explore those dark recesses of the human heart. Fly free, you beautiful butterfly.

Too long but still gonna read explanation under the cut.

Let me preface this again: This is not a post in defense of Mystra. I have, in fact, been very loudly complaining about Mystra since long before Baldur's Gate 3 was even hinted. This is simply pointing out timeline discrepancies that it seems many newcomers to Forgotten Realms aren't aware of (totally understandable! You should not need to ingest 30 years of lore to enjoy a game and I'm not saying you do.) Additionally, FR literally kills Mystra every new edition and it gets dumber every time.

Anyways. It is highly unlikely that Gale was groomed by Mystra. This is not a statement of morality, it's a statement of timeline. Mystra died in 1385. She was in pieces (like bits of her magic were still in artifacts/her Chosen, such as Elminster in lore that I absolutely despise) and that, as far as I can tell, is how magic subsisted until 1479, when she was reconstituted by Elminster (in lore that I absolutely despise) This is a gross oversimplification of an event called the Spellplague. I am open to correction on how magic worked here because I moved to Pathfinder during the 4e era and you could not make me read those Elminster books if you put a gun to my head.

Regardless, from 1385-1479, Mystra was dead/missing/asleep. BG3 takes place in 1492. If Gale is 40 years old, he was born in 1452. This means, if Gale is 40, the youngest he could have been was 27 when Mystra contacted him. This lowers, obviously, if you think Gale is 35 or even 30. If he's 30 then Mystra could have contacted him at 17. Yes, a 17 year-old is a child and this could have led to grooming, but Mystra wasn't at full strength when she first returned and she most likely wasn't seeking new Chosen until the next year, 1480. Regardless, this is the reason I put grooming as Highly Unlikely instead of Impossible. I personally believe Gale is older than 30 (I say this as a person in their 30s), I believe he was written with the intention of being a man older than 30, and I cannot see him being in his 20s. (more power to you if that's your headcanon, he's an archmage, he could be 600 for all we know, fly free, etc)

OKAY THAT SAID. Would she have groomed him? Fucking probably! Mystra is a mess. I have been playing in Forgotten Realms in tabletop and video game settings for going on 25 years now and let me tell you. Mystra is a mess. I could make a whole long ass other post on all the many problems I've had with her writing over the years. Even without the "Mystra banged a minor" angle here, there is a serious power imbalance and very obvious manipulation on her part. And I'm here to tell you Gale isn't even the first wizard she has done this to! She's done much worse! Mystra has a ton of flaws (I could write a BOOK on Mystra's flaws) but it remains highly unlikely that grooming Gale in particular is one of them.

If you'd like more FR lore this person has some amazing lore write-ups that I really enjoyed reading during EA. And here is Mystra's forgotten realms wiki page, already linked to her death and return.

(my friend told me to post this after I kept bitching to them about Lore on discord and They Know Who They Are)

[silurisanguine]

OC Questionnaire Tag (bookish-karina questions answered)

Thanks to the lovely open tag by @bookish-karina I have more questions to answer as my OCs! I am loving doing these so if i haven't answered any you guys posted, send them my way!! As usual I'll be answering as Seren Jones, Aeryn Ryder, Zofie Orel and Kiara Black under the cut! Tagging @vorchagirl @despicablediet and @bearlytolerant @staticpallour @fangbangerghoul

@atonalginger @eridanidreams @toxiclizardwrites @therealgchu @aro-pancake @a-cosmic-elf and open tag to anyone who like to answer these questions three as their OC- 1- If you could time travel without consequence what moment in the past would you visit? 2 - Do you have a favourite food and drink? 3 - What do you think about the supernatural and magic?

Now to answer the questions given me - 1-have you ever wanted to stab someone? 2-what's your worst memory? 3 -what are you hoping to avoid? First up Seren Jones ( My Starfield Coemancer Starborn)

Have you ever wanted to stab someone? "Wanted to? I have, multiple times, with my beloved Va'ruun painblade 'viper's fang' - Spacers, Crimson Fleet, Fanatics and other Starborn. Damn I sound bloodthirsty don't I? Just the Settled Systems are the frontier, It ain't safe for an explorer and especially a Starborn one. You got to know how to defend yourself. But In truth, the only one I've ever really wanted to drive my blade into would be The Hunter for who he is, what he represents...what he did and could do again." What's your worst memory? "...Oh void, I hate talking about this, but... seeing Sam dead in front of me on the floor of the station. The Hunter had killed him, but I blamed myself for not being fast enough, for choosing to protect the people in the Lodge and not run to the Eye. It took me a long time to accept it wasn't my fault. But it hurts, especially when I see another Sam. I'm learning to live in the moment now, jumping through universes, taking a little happiness where I can until I find the right one. But that wound is still there on my heart and not sure if it will ever heal." What are you hoping to avoid? "Becoming like the Hunter in the amount of times I jump universes. Losing my humanity and compassion like he has to become this empty, cold and bitter creature. I... also really want to avoid dying before I find a universe to finally stop and settle down in again, like Aquilus has managed to do. Much as I don't subscribe to his faith, I admire what he's done." ✨ Next Aeryn Ryder ( My Mass Effect Andromeda Pathfinder )

Have you ever wanted to stab someone? "Yeah! That son of a bitch Archon would get the pointy end of my asari blade if I could get close enough to him. The rest, I don't want to do it, I just have to as they are trying to kill me!...well maybe if I ever find out who the Benefactor is, they might get to meet my blade too for what they did to Jien." What's your worst memory? "Dad told me that mom never wanted a funeral, that she didn't want people standing around her body crying, so we had a memorial service to celebrate her life and I remember just feeling so empty that she wasn't around anymore. That all I had were memories of her. That stayed with me. Close second would be waking up to find my dad had sacrificed his life to save mine after I'd...died. I didn't get to say goodbye or anything and then becoming Pathfinder, I haven't even really had chance to mourn or process the fact that I...died." What are you hoping to avoid? "Oh god, failure. Failure to live up to my dad's standard as Pathfinder. Failure to secure a viable home for everyone in Heleus. Failure to stop the Archon and the kett. Also really like to not die again." ✨ Next Zofie Orel ( My Deus Ex/ Assassin's Creed OC)

Have you ever wanted to stab someone? "I am an Assassin in the Coterie of Assassins. It's my job, so yes I have stabbed someone...many someones. Whether I wanted to, was very much up to learning what they'd done to warrant such an action. Sometimes it wasn't so much a want as a need. They were doing bad things, even if they thought they were doing good and couldn't be convinced otherwise. I took no pleasure in stopping them." What's your worst memory? "I could say it was the attack that caused me to be augmented, but truth be told, I don't remember it well. Being hit hard in the head has a tendency to do that. I think the worst, was waking up in the LIMB clinic and finding out Sarah, a fellow Assassin I was...close to, had died saving me, and my goshhawk Ghost had been killed too. That devastated me for quite some time. But I channeled that into my recovery, swearing vengeance for them both." What are you hoping to avoid? "Having to prevent Jensen from interfering with my mission. I'd prefer he was on board with what I have to do. So far the signs are good and I think once he finds out the full story he wont want to miss working with me." ✨ Lastly Kiara Black (My Dishonored/ Thief OC)

Have you ever wanted to stab someone? "Wanted to? No...maybe? Sometimes I saw an Overseer in Dunwall abusing his power, scaring someone, threatening them and I wanted to hurt them for it. But I don't really know how to fight. Garrett's shown me how to avoid fights and how to take someone down without them seeing you, but it's always no lethal. But there is a part of me that wants to see those who hurt people- be stopped for good. I have a feeling Garrett did that once, but he wont talk about." What's your worst memory? "...Finding out I might have caused my best friend's death. I was fourteen and Dylan was my only real friend. I thought I could trust him with a secret but he must have talked about it and it caused the Abbey to come to his family and try and take him...there was a fight, he and his family were killed by the Abbey and my family and I had to flee Caulkenny to Dunwall. I hated him for blabbing about what I told him, but I never wanted anything like that to happen to him or his family. That still haunts me." What are you hoping to avoid? "Getting caught. Either by the Abbey back in the Isles or by the City Watch here in the Eternal City. Both are as corrupt as they come, though if I had to choose, I'd take the Watch. least I know I could probably escape them. What the Abbey do to 'Heretics'... I think I'd rather die than be caught by them."

[vivispec]

hey, i’m bloo/vivi (she/her, 25). feel free to send me asks/message me/tag me in stuff, i always love interaction! icon and sidebar by my bestie @sweetmage

mostly posting dragon age rn (and for the foreseeable future) but i’m also pretty big on bg3, outer wilds, mass effect, zelda, msa, ghibli, ancient magus bride, and lots of other things i pick up and put down. i do a lot of writing for my da ocs which you can find on my ao3 here.

speaking of, here are links to my big completed projects:

reckless momentum (what would hawke do if carver was the warden contact? my submission for the 2024 dragon age big bang with art by @ladyofc)

kindling and set yourself on fire (my DA2 submissions for the wipbigbang with BEAUTIFUL art by @sweetmage)

derecho (my DAI submission for the 2023 dragon age big bang, with AMAZING art by neoendydy)

my whumptober 2022 collection (100% completed because. i have issues.)

under the cut are my dragon age ocs whomst i love dearly, and write about pretty much exclusively! i am a dirty dirty console player so janky quality be upon ye

just realized all but one of these bitches is elves. look. i told you i got issues ok.

here we have my beloved viera’vun��‘viera’ lavellan, my inquisitor and a solasmancer (i am so sorry to her), as well as the oc i write most by far. she was a dalish hunter trained primarily in daggers, later specializing as a tempest. she is a pathfinder at heart whose greatest strengths are her perceptiveness and resilience, while her greatest weaknesses lie in her impulsivity, lack of assurance in her identity, and her tendency to run from her problems. i have a bunch of fucked up aus centered around her and all the situations i put her into! she likes to run, climb, and sing (she is Bad at it). varric calls her ‘finch’.

iloniyn, my most preciousest boy. him and viera are hunting partners as well as (platonic) soulmates, a phenomenon known to the dalish as tael’inan. they are each one half of a whole. iloniyn is incredibly sarcastic, confident, and prickly, but tends to care deeply about those that he considers his people, and gives of himself freely to them (even if he complains while doing it). he is bonded to @sweetmage​‘s oc athimien, likes to whittle, is a great shot, and can play the lute. varric calls him ‘snipe’.

ishme aeducan, a sharp, hard woman who will not be made a fool again. raised to navigate the subtle and dangerous world of dwarven politics, she is incredibly cunning, and often pulling the strings in any given situation. she is softened by alistair, who teaches her how to be a person as she teaches him how to be a king. wields dual blades as a warrior.

taufei! oooh i love taufei. a leader alongside ishme by the end of origins, she is idealistic, friendly, and generally just a chill person to hang with. though content enough to do her own thing, once she sets her sights on something, she does not relent, often leading her into...hairy situations. those situations include wooing a witch of the wilds and having a sweet lil totally-not-in-any-way-shape-or-form-creepy baby with her! yippee! she was the second of her clan, though her magic was never incredibly powerful and, as such, she made her living on making and infusing potions for her clan. she is a skilled herbalist, knows enough archery to protect herself, and actually has really long luscious curls that Do Not Exist in game you are just going to have to trust me okay.

kita tabris. she is...intense. if you are her friend she is kinda just a dudebro. picked up the big sword her mother used to wield and decided to learn how to use it because, hell yeah, big sword (which, as it so happens, is exactly what her mom did). if you are not her friend, she is. intense. finds battle thrilling, and isn’t afraid to spill blood. while she can come across as flippant or immature, much of her disregard stems from an avoidance of her more serious (and painful) thoughts and emotions. she is zevran’s gorgeous and incredibly powerful girlfriend whomst he adores and cherishes, and the fact that she can, will, and has crushed a man’s skull with her bare hands only strengthens his devotion. 

araia surana, a very sweet young mage who is wholly overwhelmed by this big, new world around her. previously a teacher’s pet who didn’t much mind kinloch hold with little in the way of friends, jowan’s ‘betrayal’ left her reeling with nowhere to turn. while she is curious of the world beyond, she is also incredibly anxious. she picks up a habit of lying to avoid confrontation, and while she is very good at it, her dishonesty puts strain on her and leliana’s relationship early on. her passion is in ancient and forgotten magical techniques and practices. she loves listening to leliana’s stories of adventure and romance, and often plays ‘doll’ when her girlfriend decides she needs something to dress up. after the archdemon is defeated, she spearheads efforts to find the cure for the joining.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #16

Mass Effect - #16 - Scars

*

A gentle finger traced along Reyes Vidal’s skin. “This one?”

Reyes glanced at the scar Ryder was running his finger over. “Fell off my bike as a child.” He reached out, tracing his own fingers along a scar on Ryder’s arm. “This one?”

Ryder grimaced. “I pulled my sister’s hair, so she bit me.”

Reyes laughed in surprise at that. “The mighty Pathfinder, felled by his own sister’s teeth.”

“She bites hard!” he said, lightly smacking Reyes’ arm. 

He cuddled back up against Reyes after only a few moments of pretending to be angry at him. It was a lazy morning, far too early for either of them to get up yet. 

It was rare that they got to just lay together like this and explore each other’s bodies. None of the frantic touching and kissing of last night, eager to be together once more after so long apart. No, now the silence wrapped around them like an extra blanket, and the quiet provided the illusion that they had all the time in the world to learn every inch of each other. 

Ryder rested his head on Reyes’ chest and Reyes ran his hands through Ryder’s hair. He knew the illusion of peace would shatter within another hour or two when Ryder would inevitably be called away for his next mission, but he savored it while it lasted.

 Ryder was aimlessly running his fingers along Reyes’ skin, stopping to brush his thumb over scars he’d already asked about. Reyes supposed he wasn’t very interesting compared to Ryder and his friends; a lot of his scars had come from clumsy childhood accidents or during his training. 

They stayed like that for a while longer. Reyes had closed his eyes, an arm wrapped around Ryder while his free hand continued to card through his hair. 

He was just drifting back off to sleep when Ryder shifted. Reyes forced his eyes open, watching Ryder start to sit up.

Some part of him deflated, wondering if Ryder had gotten a message to come meet his team. They so rarely got to steal these moments together.

But then Ryder just grabbed Reyes and tried to roll him onto his stomach. Reyes resisted, giving a playful smile to hide his panic.

“Want me on my knees already?” Reyes teased.

Ryder didn’t give up, even as he rolled his eyes. “Come on, Reyes.”

Reyes didn’t really have a choice. Ryder was a lot stronger than he looked, and managed to roll Reyes over, settling back down next to him and running a hand up and down his back before beginning that tracing of his fingers.

Reyes tried not to tense when Ryder’s fingers finally found the scar he’d been dreading him finding. Sure enough, his touch lingered, tracing the scar tissue. 

“This one?” His voice was quiet; he’d seen enough gunshot wounds to know.

“Bullet.”

“From?”

Reyes blew out a breath, folding his hands over the pillow and resting his chin on them. “People weren’t happy, Scott. There were fights. Shootouts. People were desperate for resources. I hadn’t been on Kadara long when I got that scar. Shot, because I had safe drinking water and someone else wanted it.”

Ryder had still been frozen during that mess. Reyes was glad of it. 

Sure, Reyes was in power now. But he hadn’t always been. Ryder seemed to forget that, and Reyes felt bitter that the scar had reminded him.

“Clean shot,” he said when Ryder didn’t reply. “In and out. Hurt like a bitch, but I was able to return fire and take the bastard down.” 

Ryder was still silent. Reyes tensed as he felt Ryder shifting again, certain he’d shattered the moment despite his attempt to play it off.

Instead, he felt Ryder’s lips press gently to the scar. Ryder laid next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry about everything you had to go through.”

“I’m not,” Reyes said, shifting closer to Ryder. “No one ever gets to where I am without some scars. I wish I didn’t have to get shot, yes, but I learned fast out here. Now I have control of Kadara, and I can use that control to protect you and your people. Win-win all around.” 

Ryder’s thumb traced small circles in Reyes’ skin. “Still. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

“All while you were taking a 600 year nap. At least one of us isn’t lazy,” Reyes teased.

He didn’t mention the agonizing pain of trying to shoot with blood gushing from his wound. He didn’t mention that he’d had no medical supplies and had to pour vodka over his wound because it was the closest thing to disinfectant he had on hand. He didn’t mention that he tore off his sleeve and tried to tie the wound to keep from bleeding to death.

No, he kept the details to himself. He was alive, here enjoying the morning with Ryder. How he got here didn’t matter anymore. The scars along the way were worth it to find himself with this man who kissed the horrifying memories away.

[mosylufanfic]

31 for rebelcaptain, pls? :) alternatively 43 but I would want that to be lighthearted and I feel like that's not what this list is about *lol*

31 - “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.” and 43 - “Are you drunk?”

The prompts may be angsty but my mood is not! Some lighthearted silliness just for you.

Extraction

"Cassian," Bodhi hissed in his ear. "You need to leave."

"Yeah," Jyn added, "what's the hold-up? We're going to miss the rendezvous."

He felt the knot between his shoulder blades loosen slightly at her voice. She was back safe, at least. But he couldn’t relax quite all the way because - "Look," he murmured into the comm. "I can't. Every time I try to slip away, they reel me back in." Behind him, glass shattered and raucous laughter broke out. 

Through her black-market contacts, Jyn had caught wind of a heist on an Imperial supply warehouse, and it had turned out to be the perfect cover for her lifting some security codes that the Pathfinders badly needed. 

Cassian had talked his way into the crew performing the heist to make sure that it succeeded and didn’t bring the Imperials down on them at an inconvenient time. He’d also ensured that none of them noticed there was another heist going on, so that whenever they were caught (and they would be caught eventually, no subtlety whatsoever), they wouldn't have any beans to spill on Jyn.

The whole business was almost wrapped up, but he'd reckoned without the crew's exuberant celebration, and their surprising insistence on sharing that celebration with their new pal, Jeron.

"Do you think they suspect?" Bodhi asked.

"I don't know. But you need to make the rendezvous with the security codes. If you have to, leave without me."

Jyn made a rude noise. "Kriff that. I'm on my way."

"Wait, what - " He clamped his lips shut before her name escaped. “Stay where you are.”

“Too late,” Bodhi said. “Already gone.”

"What is she doing?" he asked with a certain sense of foreboding.

"Who knows," the pilot said, sounding much more cheerful than he had a moment ago. 

"Get her to come back."

"Oh please, as if I could. Or wanted to. You have to stop defaulting to 'leave me behind, it's for the good of the Rebellion' every time you run into trouble. We're here for you, you know."

A hand clamped on his shoulder. "Jeron," a voice bellowed. "What are you doing huddling in the corner with your comm all night? It's a party! We got the goods! Time to celebrate!"

"It, I, uh," he said to the head of the crew, and the man who'd insisted he join them for the celebration of their ill-gotten gains. "It's just my - bedtime."

Bodhi snorted in his ear so loudly he almost lost his train of thought.

"Bedtime," Ignack said skeptically, and took a drink.

"My . . . children's bedtime. Yes."

"You have children? I didn't know that." He frowned. It hadn’t taken Cassian long to realize that Ignack liked to think of his crew as young, sexy, devil-may-care outlaws thumbing their noses at any and all authority or responsibility. Like a bad action holo where everyone met, performed crime, and bonded into family in a matter of days.

"I'm not likely to talk about them to this crowd, am I?" Cassian said. "They don't like to go to sleep before I come home."

"Well, that's what a nurse droid is for. Tell the little brats to pipe down and get to bed or they'll get what's coming to them." He leaned over to the comm. "Hear that, brats? Papa's going to wallop - "

Cassian flicked the comm off. "Please don't terrify my children," he said calmly. "Is there any spotchka left?"

Ignack lost interest in Cassian's fictitious offspring and dragged him back to the bar. "Spotchka!" he shouted. "For our new friend!"

Cassian was trying to choke down some of the noxious local brew when a voice called out, "Jeron!"

He froze. No. 

Well, of course.

"Jeron, I know that's you, you son of a bitch!"

He turned to find Jyn shouldering her way through the crowd, staggering every few steps. Her eye makeup was thick and smeared, her clothes rumpled. She looked like a hot mess, and he drank in the sight of her.

"Jeron," she said, grabbing his arm. "I'm so - hic - so sorry."

He had no idea where she was going with this, but hopefully out the door was included. 

She leaned into him, slouching like a boiled noodle, somehow putting one hundred and fifty percent of her weight on his arm. "So sorry," she blubbered again. 

"Are you drunk?"

She sniffed loudly. "Jus' little bit. You don't know how hard it is, being away from you. Since you kicked me out." She shoved him. "You son of a bitch."

"It was your own choice," he said, aware of the eyes they were drawing, the glances being exchanged between the other members of the crew. Apparently Jeron was having some drama in his personal life, those glances said.

But clearly, none of them felt called to intervene, just to watch with varying levels of amusement and discomfort. 

Jyn grabbed him again, tipping her face up to his. "You have to let me come back. Please. I'm - I'm dying without you."

"Liana, please, not here  . . ."

"Youuuuuuuu - you think I'm 'zaggerating," she cried. "I can't do it, Jeron. I miss you so much. I can't keep kissing strangers pretending they're you." She buried her face in his shirt, sobbing.

"You didn't have a problem with it before you left," he said.

Her head popped up like a jack-in-the-box, eyes narrowed. "Before you kicked me out! Bastard. Well, I regret it. Is that what you want to hear? I do, I regret it. Now can I come back ho-ho-hoooooooommmme . . ." She burst into loud howls that had everybody around them cringing into their drinks.

He stared stony-faced down at her. "You haven't even asked about the babies."

It caught her flat footed, her mouth gaping for a split second. But she recovered brilliantly, wailing, "The babies. Do they miss their mummy?" She snorfled. "Their mummy misses them, so so much - "

He looked over her head to Ignack. "I'm sorry," he said. "She's just - we broke up." He looked down at the messy bun in her hair and patted her shaking shoulders with a grimace. "I should get her somewhere to dry out."  

"Yeah," Ignack said, looking uncomfortable at the domestic holonovel playing out in front of him. "Good idea."

"I'll try to come back, but I've seen her like this before. It could take quite some time to get her settled. I'm sorry to miss the party."

"Won't be the same without you," Ignack lied, clearly desperately to get the bawling, drunken woman out of his celebration. 

"You have my contact info, right?" He patted his pockets as if looking for his comm, or a bit of flimsi he could scribble his information down upon. "Any more jobs I can help with - I've got four children to support, you know - " 

Jyn snorted into his shirt.

Ignack just looked dismayed. A man with brats at home and a hot mess of an ex wasn't exactly how he pictured his crew. "Yes, yes, just um - " He frowned as Jyn grabbed a bottle off the bar. "I'm not paying for that."

Cassian pried it out of her fingers. "You don't need that. Let's go."

"Go? Where are we going? Are we going home? I'm not going anywhere with you, you bastard - "

They staggered through the crowd and out onto the street. Jyn, no rookie, kept up a stream of pleas, threats, and drunken ramblings until they'd turned two corners. Then she elbowed him hard enough to steal his breath. "Babies?"

He staggered a step or two away, laughing in spite of himself. "Our sweet babies," he said, righting himself and putting his arm around her shoulders. "Whom you abandoned, you degenerate, leaving me no choice but to turn to a life of crime so as to put food on the table."

"Ugh, kriff you." She leaned into him, giggling. 

"Shame on you, Liana," he said merrily. "Such language for a mother."

She elbowed him again. "Come on, Jeron. Let's go home."

FINIS

[smartalker]

Magpie Bridge [1/10 - Eurydice]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people jones for the other, galaxy breaks.

“So, Ryder. I think we have to arrest your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Peebee,” Ryder muttered, now automatically. She was definitely in the shower, absolutely having private time, most certainly had locked the door. And yet: Peebee. Inevitably, Peebee. Into the steam, Ryder sighed.

Peebee clicked her tongue. Through the hazy shower stall’s door, Ryder could make out the Asari slouching back against the sink. Even the vague outline of Peebee’s body seemed indolent. “Semantics. I happen to love the word boyfriend. So cute! So juvenile! A highly accurate representation of your love life. Did I mention: any and all comments on this topic put forth by myself, Peebee, are to be received with appreciation and reflection?”

There was shampoo in her eye. How appropriate. Ryder grimaced. “Did you come here to tell me something Peebee?”

“No, no. Nothing in particular. Just figured you could use some girl talk considering your boyfriend’s approaching arrest.” Peebee paused. “You should wash your back more.”

Back later. First, shampoo. Ryder dug at her eye. “I might not have to arrest him. I will hopefully not have to arrest him. I don’t think I really have the authority to arrest people? Like formally? At first I thought Addison was a bitch but then I saw the paperwork she gets because of me. Which has probably already been reduced by, um, by lower level office employees. I’m trying to be more considerate. Also he’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t seen him in months.”

Peebee laughed with shrill sarcasm. “Goddess. Ryder. Your ass is blushing.”

In all likelihood: she probably had to arrest her boyfriend.

“You knew this was coming,” Tann whispered, with some viciousness. Ryder tried to be patient. Maybe she could lighten things up by pointing out that there was no one in the room to overhear them. Tann continued whispering, “You knew that getting in bed with smugglers and vigilante criminal pseudo-lords was not the Initiative’s plan for Kadara.”

In bed with vigilante criminal pseudo-lords. How nice. If only. Ryder rubbed the skin between her eyebrows. She was aging into migraines. “Director Tann, we needed that outpost. The Initiative, including yourself, has and continues to profit tremendously from Kadara’s trade—”

“Oh, yes,” Tann interrupted, now throwing himself back into his chair. It was a nice chair. Choice cushioning for one bony Salarian butt. “Yes, we are all well aware of Kadara’s potential. But you don’t see what I see, Ryder. They are an independent, lawless entity that devours Nexus goods and personnel along with our reputation!”

Ryder squinted. Her migraine was getting worse. It was probably due to the shitty fluorescent lighting and, perhaps, just a spice of defensive rage. “Director Tann,” Ryder stressed, “You know we need a free market. You know we need an economic center that is separate from our government—”

Director Tann waved a hand, presumably to silence her. Ryder ignored him. “—just because you can’t control something doesn’t make it a threat. Yes, there are drugs on Kadara. There is probably every single fucking kind of trafficking going down in that city, but you know what? There will always be buyers. Prohibition has never worked, and that includes here on the Nexus. If anything, Kadara separates you from crime. I don’t need to tell you the other benefits.”

“No. You don’t.” Tann conceded. There was a resigned, but hard note to his voice now. He was done yelling. Composure settled across the director’s long body, and he drew himself forward. Ryder’s stomach clenched. Director Tann sighed. “Ryder. The fact of the matter is, Kadara Port became partners with the Initiative – with all of us—the moment we settled outposts on Kadara. You’re right, we can’t lose the Port. But the violence, the corruption—Aya is losing patience. More Angara deal with the port than any of our colonies, or the Nexus. They only see us at our worst; mired in greed, inseparable from violence. Even the Moshae has begun to express her concerns. If we don’t act—or at the very least appear to act—in such a way that curbs the Charlatan’s influence, and quickly, we risk losing our Angaran alliance. I don’t need to tell you their benefits.”

The Charlatan. Ryder did her best to maintain eye-contact. In bed with a vigilante criminal pseudo lord. She licked her lips. “I see your point.”

“I should hope so. It is glaringly obvious,” Tann replied icily. Ryder wondered if her impeccable calm was suspicious. Maybe she should try fidgeting. Normal people fidgeted. She bounced her knee, then stopped at once.

After too long a pause, Ryder cleared her throat. “Okay. So we’re in agreement, something has to change. But Director Tann, I’m the Pathfinder. I’m supposed to be eradicating the straggler Kett on Eos—is this really the mission I should be taking on right now?”

Director Tann surveyed her for a long moment. He did a weird thing with his face. Something like a smile. “It must be you. Do you know, Pathfinder, I have considerable respect for you. Your contributions to the Initiative cannot be overstated. During your battle against the Archon I took it upon myself to watch the skies and the coms. I wondered who would help us, who would leave us to die. You can imagine my surprise, when an entire fleet of Kadaran ships began appearing, like endless waves to break the Kett fighters. You can imagine, how I wondered, when I saw the man who led them join you fighting on the ground.”

Ryder reminded herself that normal, unconcerned people did things like breathing. She tilted her head slightly, waiting, staring into Tann’s cold, analytic eyes. Alien.

He blinked. “Well, it’s not as though I think he’s the Charlatan. That seems almost laughably stupid, not to speak of reckless. Perhaps a trusted lieutenant. Regardless, anyone would suspect you’d made a deal with the Charlatan personally based off of the ease with which our foothold in Kadara was established. Their participation in the battle at Meridian only confirms that.”

Pathfinder, SAM piped up, Situational analysis suggests that you appear less cornered. Disengaging sweat glands now.

Ryder recoiled. Sam, never again.

Tann couldn’t have missed her discomfort, but he didn’t acknowledge it either. “I am not a fool or an idealist, Pathfinder. I acknowledge the value in established, underground networking, and your consistent victories thus far are why I have chosen to delegate authority to you, rather than intervening directly with the Nexus militia. Use your knowledge of the Collective and its higher officers to find the Charlatan, and convince them to reform. Or remove them. I trust you understand my position and will act appropriately.”

Ryder forced herself to smile, nodding at the director and rising too quickly from her seat. “I do understand. Completely. I’ll see what I can do, Director Tann.”

She had begun to turn away to retreat, when Tann called her back, “Pathfinder. I am not unsympathetic to your position, but you should know that this mission comes with a deadline.”

The Director seems to be acclimating to his authority, SAM noted.

Keema wouldn’t stop calling. Reyes jabbed his omni-tool. “Busy. What?”

“You might want to wash the blood off your hands,” Keema drawled in her usual arch way. “A friendly suggestion.”

“Why? Is my mother coming?”

“Your girlfriend.”

Damn. There actually was blood on his hands. Reyes tried rubbing his smudged omni-tool clean with his sleeve. “When, why?”

“Not sure, but soon. Probably to arrest you.”

“She wouldn’t arrest me.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Keema smirked, “You haven’t seen her in a while.”

“I sent gifts.”

Keema looked at him pityingly. “Anyway. Find anything decent?”

Reyes sighed, “Nothing conclusive. I want a better scanner. It’s so dirty, everywhere. Turian and Angara and human, all this DNA mixed together. Like a molecular sex party. Except frustrating, not fun.”

“Humans and your ‘sex parties.’ The Angara call it dinner.”

“Speak for yourself.” Reyes glanced at the sticky wall, its dark blue blood. “I should clean up.”

They ended the call without salutations, as usual. Reyes stared at the grit, the corpses, the ugly painting someone had made on the wall with the Turian’s blood. He honestly couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a face or a volcano. A little artistry never hurt anyone.

Ryder was coming.

Back to the bloody painting. Probably a face? Maybe a mask. Could be a Charlatan reference, but not what he was looking for—annoyingly amateur, not worth his time.

Sara was coming.

He tried the sink. A stream of orange liquid pooled in the basin. Reyes splashed his hands, sighing. Kadara. Dirty, ugly Kadara. His kingdom.

“Sucks about Reyes,” Liam noted, smiling widely. Ryder ignored him. The shit.

“Boyfriend,” Peebee mouthed. Everyone was getting ignored.

“Approaching Kadara,” Kallo called over his shoulder. “Seatbelts. Or at least hold on to something, Gil.” The pilot snapped back around to face his flight path. A beat of silence. Suvi’s pretty head poked around her chair.

“Kallo’s been quiet anxious about the upcoming safety inspection. Please don’t be so hard on him and take your seats. You really should, anyway, you know. Might be a good time to do some relaxing, get some thinking in. It’s not all bad.”

“Thank you, Suvi,” Kallo sniffed.

Being unfortunately burdened by boss duties (and Cora’s impressive stare), Ryder slid grudgingly into one of the deck’s seats. Vetra joined her. “You know, Ryder, if you’re already out arresting boyfriends maybe we could add a few more to the list. Like Sid’s.”

“Give the kids a break!” Liam objected, definitely not wearing a seat belt. “Who cares if he isn’t perfect! She’s got the right to mess around, make some discoveries about herself!”

“Oh, what discoveries?” Peebee jibed. “I like discoveries.”

“My little sister isn’t going to mess around with some hotshot kamikaze Krogan with five hundred years on her and a beat-ass shuttle called Trade Enlargo,” Vetra snarled, over-enunciating every word. “If you’re going to make a gross euphemism it should at least make sense!”

“Kid’s right,” Drack agreed, “And anyway, everyone knows Krogan men aren’t worth shit until they’ve cleared seven hundred. Sad but true.”

Surely, still a notable improvement over dating the mob, SAM speculated over loud speaker. Drack snickered.

“Traitor,” Ryder muttered, then bit her tongue as Kallo landed with unusual force. Liam went flying, slamming his shoulder painfully on the bridge door before he caught himself against the mandated safety railing. Kallo swiveled as Suvi steered the Tempest into its docking bay. “Seat belts,” was all he hissed.

Kadara was different. Ryder could smell it, before anything else. The smog of sulfur and ozone had dissipated thanks to the terraforming. In its place—food smells. Animal smells. The market was massive, sprawling, spilling out to the docks. There were hecklers and beggars and vendors and street performers. There were old-school neon signs and grungy sewer pipes and very real, very noticeable infrastructure.

And the people. Human, Salarian, Turian, Nexus, Collective, Angaran. Was that a church? They’d built a church. Ryder could feel her migraine coming back.

“Might as well start with where things used to be,” Drack muttered. He’d appointed himself to her squad, and in the wake of so much change, Ryder was unexpectedly reassured. At least she’d brought the big muscle.

“Pardon me Ryder, but I think I will speak to the resident Angara,” Jaal announced, turning to her. “Much has changed since we’ve been here last. I would like to hear from our elected representatives.”

Drack snorted.

“Take someone with you. Let me know what you find out,” Ryder agreed. “Okay everyone? Split up but no solo missions. Keep your eyes open.”

There was a sort of generalized nod among squad members, and in pairs they began splitting off. Ryder watched as her team filtered into the greater market, many lingering over the new stalls.

“That looks tasty,” Suvi’s voice could just barely be heard.

“Don’t,” from Kallo.

Dependable as always, Cora had hung back, and she smiled now. “Need a ride along?” she offered, with a little head tilt. Sometimes Ryder would begin to think Cora was cute, and then remember how many times she’d watched the other woman blow people in half using her pinkie and some creepy mind powers.

Prime bodyguard material. “All aboard,” Ryder agreed. She led the other two into the market. “Guess we should see if the Collective’s changed addresses.”

“I doubt it,” Cora offered. “Keema’s the type who likes attention. It shouldn’t be hard to find her.”

“We could always beat someone,” Drack offered.

“That doesn’t really fix anything,” Cora protested. Drack grunted.

“I know. I’m just saying. We could always beat someone.”

“SAM, you got anything?” Ryder mumbled. For a second, nothing. A weird, artificial buzz—or a drone?—some kind of static. Ryder blinked, shook her head. “What the hell?”

Apologies Pathfinder. I was taking a moment to upgrade system functionality, SAM chimed from her omni-tool. Locating Collective data traces now.

“He installs updates?” Cora snapped, with disbelief. “Ryder, did you sanction this?”

“Uh,” Ryder shook her head. Buzzing again. Ignore it. “No. Not sanctioned. SAM, no more updates without, um, user permission.”

The Collective’s base is carefully hidden. I would speculate that there are likely many locations. Their front for operations remains the same, with some upgrades.

“Your bot’s been getting uppity,” Drack chuckled. “Careful Ryder. If you go on a rampage I might have to start taking things personally.”

“Wonderful.” Ryder rolled her eyes. “Thanks Drack.”

As they neared the Collective’s base, Cora caught Ryder’s arm. “A moment, Drack?”

“Take it,” the old Krogan gruffed, now wandering away. “Last chance to beat some sense into her before things get shady. I know Cora will say it better Pathfinder, but listen to me this time. Nothing in the universe makes people as stupid or worthless as love.”

Before Ryder could even retort, Cora’s hand was on her shoulder again, firm. “Has a sort of poetry about him, don’t you think?” she asked lightly.

Ryder glanced up, then away again, feeling guilty. Cora had pretty eyes. Hazel. “I think I know what you’re going to say.”

“Well, I’m saying it anyway. I meddle. And it might not have been for long, but I’m still one of the only people in this galaxy who knew you before you were made Pathfinder.” Cora paused. She sucked in one cheek, chewing. “Look. I’m going to sound like an ass. But: you’re young. You’re really young. To be honest, it kind of pissed me off at first because—well, I mean, I’m sure you can imagine. I’m not bringing this up to be a jerk, I got over Alec choosing you to be his successor a long time ago. And you know, he was right. You’ve done a great job. I’m proud that you’re the human Pathfinder.”

Cora was looking at her warmly, with almost sisterly affection. Ryder blushed. “Um. Thanks, Cora. That means a lot to me, coming from you. Just, uh, wow.”

“No problem,” Cora dismissed the moment briskly. “It’s the truth. But like I was saying before, as much as I respect and care for you, you’re young. You’re not stupid, but there are things that you have to learn the hard way. And normally, I’d say okay. Go learn them. But not this time. Not when you’re the Pathfinder. Not when the Angaran alliance is riding on this. Not when we both know exactly what kind of a man we’re dealing with.”

“Do you?” Ryder joked weakly. “Because honestly, I was never sure.”

“No.” Cora said firmly, not letting Ryder look away. “You know.”

A long silence passed between them. Cora’s hand was still on Ryder’s shoulder, a familiar gesture, a comforting one. Ryder sighed, long and slow, turning back to the market. So many people. So much had grown, so quickly. It took someone special to make that happen.

“I hear what you’re saying.” Ryder admitted. “What everyone’s saying. I’m just…I don’t know. I don’t think you’re wrong. But I don’t think he’s evil either.”

Cora’s faint half-smile quirked sympathetically. For a moment, Ryder thought the other woman might hug her. She didn’t. Instead, she let go, and waved Drack back over. She checked the holster on her gun. “Just remember that people don’t have to be evil to do terrible things.”

The Collective’s base (or their front for one) had indeed undergone some modifications. Namely, it was basically a palace.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Ryder called up to Keema, who was lounging on what could only be called a throne. The armed guard was sort of hard to miss, but Keema smiled in welcome nevertheless.

“Pathfinder. It’s been too long.” She paused thoughtfully, “Do you know I’ve actually missed you? I heard you were coming of course—excuse the spies, darling—and do you know, I’ve spent the whole morning thinking about it. Things always seems so much more interesting when you’re around. And then I considered your long habit of making things go well for me.” For extra corruption points, Keema added a complicit smile. Ryder smiled back.

“I’m a people pleaser. Do I have to shout up at you like this or may I be granted permission to approach?”

“Excuse me, darling,” Keema chuckled. She rose gracefully, waving a cool hand towards her guards. They slid almost noiselessly from the room.

“Don’t get mad,” Ryder whispered, “But I think you two should maybe leave too.”

“I’m mad,” Cora said immediately.

“Urgh. Pathfinders and their cultural sensitivity. Angara and their ceremony.” Drack growled. Ryder wasn’t sure, but she thought the Krogan might have rolled his old alligator eyes. “Fine. Come find me when you’re done with the parades.”

“You better watch yourself,” Cora hissed loyally. She was making quite the snake-eyes up at Keema. “I mean it. She talks nice but she doesn’t give a damn about anyone. Don’t lose your gun.”

“Leave,” Ryder moaned. She felt like a teenager trying to shake her parents for a date. Keema was chuckling softly as the two left, and Ryder spent most of the ascent up the stairs trying to school her expression into one of dignity.

“Charming. I do love a good old war story, don’t you?” she was already carrying on before Ryder could answer, “Darling, I hate talking in this stuffy old room. Won’t you have lunch with me?”

“Lunch and drinks, I hope?” Ryder tried smiling conspiratorially. Unprompted, SAM reported a 34 percent accuracy rating.

Keema chuckled again. “You survived Kadara once, didn’t you? Why the hell not?”

“I’m sorry our friend won’t be joining us,” Keema sighed. She’d led Ryder out onto a rather magnificent balcony, all white stone and cushions. A number of silent servants slid in and out of the shadows laying out platters of rather frightening looking food. There were also, unexpectedly, grapes. Ryder set to nibbling.

“Is something wrong?”

Keema snorted. “Please, no. I expect he’ll find you later. I’m sure he just doesn’t want me around.”

Ryder blinked, uncertain. Keema drew out the moment of superiority then, at her leisure, elaborated. “Well. As you know, we’re of course aware that Nexus sent you here to…well, deal with him. In some way.”

Ryder shrugged. “There’s no point in hiding it.”

“None whatsoever. We knew this would happen eventually. In fact, I have several ‘Charlatan’s picked out for you to take back to Nexus—you may choose from amongst them at your discretion.” Keema leaned back, resting gracefully on her forearms. A long, slender sunbeam glistened across her brow. The Angara stared at Ryder for a long, considering moment. And then, the unexpected.

Keema frowned.

“I’ll be honest with you, Ryder.” She said slowly. “I’d like to believe you’re a friend to us. You have a way of seeing the bigger picture—the best way forward. Reyes likes to think you’re innocent enough to believe in us—well, him, but I don’t think you’re quite as starry eyed as his ego wants to believe.” She paused now, visibly choosing her words. “Rather than the Nexus and Aya, there’s something else to be addressed. Something worse.”

“Worse?” Ryder echoed. She shifted her weight, trying to chase her own sun beam. The breeze across the gallery was unexpectedly cold.

“Yes.” Keema breathed out, rose up. Ryder couldn’t remember a time she’d seen the other woman look even mildly stressed—much less afraid. Keema was afraid. “There are complications,” Keema said delicately. “Some expected. Some we could not have prepared for. There is a group of Roekaar remnants who aim to take my life—and the Charlatan’s. Expected, but a threat nevertheless. They have evolved past reason, into a place of religious extremism. They cannot be reasoned with. I would be lying if I told you that did not upset me. But that is not the real problem.”

“Tell me,” Ryder urged. “Enough prancing around it Keema, if I can help you, I will.”

Keema nodded slowly. “We think…we think there is another Charlatan.”

Ryder stopped. Her mind turned things over. “How?”

“I don’t know. But there’s someone. Someone leading a lot of people. And they aren’t afraid to do things—terrible things.” Keema’s voice dropped, letting in some ice. “They rape, they kill—children. Of all species. They leave their bodies in the streets. Ryder, they use our name. It doesn’t matter how many times I say that the Charlatan, the Collective, isn’t responsible. Because the people hear things, they whisper. It has only just begun, and already, they are terrified. Already, to some, the Charlatan has become the demon of Kadara, a monster who feeds his city with the suffering of its most innocent.”

“You don’t have any leads?”

“None,” Keema shook her head wildly. “We built this city to be a free and open market. There was always going to be some crime, but this—things feel wrong. Unnatural. Intentional. Ryder, this butchery, it benefits no one. We would never do this. And if it doesn’t stop, the Nexus and Angaran home worlds will be forced to act. We will be destroyed.”

It was cold, on the balcony. Ryder pressed a grape against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, and it burst. There was a note of something rank, lurking in the sweetness. It was going to storm soon, the air smelled of it. She wondered what the storms on Kadara looked like.

She didn’t know how to feel. Afraid? Hurt? “Why wouldn’t Reyes tell me?” Ryder wondered. “I would have come. I could have helped.”

Something harsh flashed across Keema’s face, then vanished. “Because you’re young, Ryder, and you’re a hero. And Reyes is neither of those things.”

Ryder had wandered from her meeting with Keema in a near daze, her mind roiling. She’d reported her discoveries to Drack and Cora—she’d promised herself, long ago, to be honest with her crew no matter what lies she might flub to the Nexus—and they’d taken things about as well as could be expected.

“We should leave.” Cora announced. “A fight’s one thing, Ryder, but a city that’s swarming with assassins and death cults and serial killers is another. We’re at a disadvantage.”

“The Textbook is right,” Drack grunted, not appearing to even notice Cora’s glare. “I told you this place was about to get shady. Let’s regroup, kid. I’ve seen your man’s type before, a roach won’t die so easy.”

“He’s not a cockroach.” Ryder said, then, “I need a drink.”

“That’s fair,” Drack agreed. Cora rolled her eyes at the both of them.

“I need a drink alone,” Ryder corrected. “Drop me at Tartarus?”

Cora snorted, “If there’s anything left of it.”

“It’ll be fine,” Drack protested.

A short journey revealed that Tartarus was still standing and, even better, had invested in actual liquor instead of what Ryder had long suspected to be alien moonshine. Cora already had her arms crossed when Ryder turned around. “I’m not about to leave the Pathfinder alone in some shitty bar on this murder rock,” she announced.

“It’s a good bar,” Drack argued.

“But,” Cora continued, “I suppose we can wait downstairs.”

“Thanks Ma,” Ryder groaned. Cora narrowed her eyes, but was too mature to respond. Ryder watched as Drack lumbered over the last stair and out of sight, and sighed heavily.

Pathfinder. I believe I can install substantial system upgrades that will dramatically increase our combat prediction matrices. Permission to proceed?

“How’s brain re-wiring mix with booze?” Ryder asked. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Just do it.”

Confirmed.

“Whiskey?”

She spun, heart in her throat. He was there. Hadn’t she been watching all the doors? But somehow he was right behind her, leaning up against the bar, as easy as the day she’d first met him. She hadn’t been ready to see him. She’d thought she would, had come to the bar for just that purpose, of course—but not so soon. “Oh,” she said, staring at him. What was different? He was different. Somehow.

Reyes grinned. “I hear you’ve come to arrest me.”

“I, uh,” Ryder stammered, then swallowed. Get a grip. She swallowed again. “If you heard that, then why are you here?” she squeaked. He wasn’t running away. He was sliding nearer. She watched him approach, with thrilled trepidation, a buzz of static in her brain.

“Are you kidding? I wanted to see you try.” He was doing the thing. The thing where he pulled his gloves off with his teeth. His hands were brown and familiar and a little too big for the rest of him. Ryder stared, physically willing herself to flirt back. She could be smooth. She could be hella smooth.

“It’s been a while,” she managed. “I thought we should start off slow.”

His smile spread, evil. Was she naked?

No, SAM reminded.

Definitely not naked.

“Slow isn’t really my style.” Reyes almost purred. That fucker. Ryder tucked her hair behind her ears, and in a flash his hand was there with hers, and his face was right there, and he was whispering, “I can get that.”

“OKAY!” Ryder yanked herself away, reeling. “I, um, I don’t think I can really—do that—right now. Since I’m kind of supposed to be investigating you. Or at least very seriously persuading you to join Nexus. Or arrest you. I don’t know.”

“And? Does the Pathfinder turn in a time sheet when she’s making her reports?” Reyes demanded. He looked like a cat, watching her like that. “Do that later. Me first.”

“You’re so…” she trailed off. She didn’t know what he was. That was the problem. “You said you have whiskey?”

“Until the day you stop leaving me, yes, I’ll always have whiskey.” He signaled the bartender, just flicked his fingers. So unfair. She was the damn Pathfinder and she still had to wave and holler to get served. Reyes was eyeing her. “Let me look at you. You seem different.”

“Me?” Ryder stuttered. She laughed. “I thought the same thing about you.”

Reyes shook his head slowly, tutting. “How cruel. You lived without me.”

Their drinks arrived, two low glasses with whiskey the color of honey. Reyes handed her a glass, toasted her. There were other people in the room. They were in a room full of people. She couldn’t stop looking at him, almost like she was afraid he’d attack, the second she looked away. He drank slowly, watching her with heavy eyes as he swallowed.

“I missed you,” she admitted, and quickly buried herself in her drink. He was still there when she surfaced, and still smiling. Pleased.

“Was that so hard?” he asked.

Trying not to sulk, Ryder slid onto the stool next to him. She scooted to the edge, close enough for their shoulders to press together. “I hear you’ve been keeping things from me.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Typical,” she snorted. He ordered another round. Why did they always drink so fast? “Keema says you have an evil twin running around. Well, an eviler twin.”

Reyes kept his face away from her, but she watched him openly. Just for a second, he bit his lip. “You know, I have a lesson for you. When the person you’ve hired to be a mask starts divulging classified information, you don’t have a mask anymore.” He slugged the double shot. “You have a business competitor.” He set down his glass a little too hard, fingers tight around the crystal. His foot tapped, slowly.

“She’s afraid,” Ryder protested. “You should have told me. I could have helped—”

“I didn’t want to talk about this with you,” Reyes interrupted. He turned to her, sliding himself over and around her, so that she fit tightly against his side. “You only just got here. I thought I said we could leave the paperwork for later.”

Ryder gazed up, an uncomfortable cramp building up somewhere inside. He had changed. He’d gotten harder. His face was the same—still charming, still handsome—but something new was there now, something rigid, and vicious. She considered him, in all his new violence, wondering if these changes made her sad, or excited. “So did you miss me?” she asked.

Reyes smiled, and relaxed into her. “I missed you. Kadara missed you more.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because without you to distract me, it earned my undivided attention.” He was going to kiss her. She was sure of it. She turned her face to meet him and he caught her lightly, too lightly. For a second his mouth was on hers and she remembered that he could kiss like no one she’d ever met, not roughly or sweetly but savory—as though she were something to be relished.

And she wanted more.

“You taste like expensive whiskey.” Reyes told her. She wanted to kiss him in bars. She wanted to kiss him in alleys. She wanted to kiss him in locker rooms, closets, bathroom stalls, somewhere dirty enough to bring her down, somewhere ugly enough for balance.

“Expensive?”

“Very.”

Ryder nipped his lip. “I better not be buying.”

Reyes smiled at her, teasing his fingers through the roots of her hair, yanking things out of place. “Much as I’d like to continue—”

“How much?”

“—your friends are coming upstairs and at least one of them will murder me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Where?” Ryder insisted. Reyes smiled, and winked, and in the time it took Ryder to hear Cora’s shout, and look back over her shoulder—he was gone.

Cora and Drack drew even. “So,” Cora began, almost dripping poison. “He pay for drinks?”

Ryder looked down. “Fuck,” she said. Then, again, with considerable, misplaced frustration, “Fuck!”

Drack clapped her on the back. It was meant as a friendly gesture, but had the ultimate effect of slamming Ryder’s belly against the bar. “It’ll be okay kid,” Drack said gruffly. Ryder was sure there was a note of sympathetic understanding there.

“No, not okay,” Cora interjected, while Ryder coughed. “Not okay because now we’re spending what’ll probably be the last week of our lives on a planet where lizards are considered fine dining. Oh, and then we get murdered.”

“If you drink enough, you don’t have to eat.”

“Thanks, Drack,” Cora snarled. Ryder got unsteadily to her feet, paid off the tab (absurdly expensive) and led her crew out. Cora had a point. A very solid point. A request for better provisions would need to be filed, ASAP.

“I know you don’t like it,” Ryder wheedled, trying her best to appease Cora (who was objectively, inarguably, right about everything but was also probably immune to human weaknesses such as: food cravings, the lethargy between bed and toilet, and hot space pirates). “I know you don’t like it, but I think it’ll be okay. And, it’s our mission. And, we’ve been through worse.”

“Mortimer’s Stellar Tattoos, No Appointments Necessary!” Cora read off a passing sign. “Hey Ryder, no appointments necessary.”

“The next time you want to imply I get Reyes’ name permanently inked onto my ass, please just tell me to go fuck myself.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Pause. “Pathfinder.”

Drack sniggered appreciatively.

[atiredwriter42-blog]

A Strange Occurrence

“Pull yourselves together maggots! This is all out war here, not some daycare bullshit you worthless piece of scum are used to back at home!” Commanding Officer Philips roared. It was clear that he was in a decent mood today.

“What’s wrong there Private Pussylips? Did your period start this morning? Where’s the blood? You need someone to take you home to your mama? Answer me Private!”

“N-No… Sir!” Private Pussylips shrieked back, eyes sealed shut. Sergeant Ace patted the private on the helmet, the rest of Pathfinder moved out.

The ambience of gunfire and the winter winds blowing kept us on our feet at all times. Not a single leaf crunch or branch snap went by without one of the men frantically darting their attention to the noise. By the end of morning patrol, everyone was seemingly taking turns worrying about trivial sounds. Even back at camp, the unit was on edge, or at least more so than usual. The morning game of “craps” after patrol never began, and no one talked about it either. Private Dumbo or Sergeant Four-eyes would always complain when they couldn’t get their morning gambling in, but they were busy watching the city. I suppose everyone was fixated on the city. Its name was in a language I didn’t care about, in a country I hardly wanted to be in at this time, and yet we all gravitated towards it. Some kind of energy grabbed our attention. Every minute detail was engraved into at least one of the men every day.

“4 days ago… I saw a child mindlessly roaming the streets near the church. She wasn’t crying, but you could tell that kid ain’t ok. Jesus fucking Christ! Just a kid!” Someone remarked. As depressing as it sounds, sharing stories of something we all had in common kept us sane. The ones who saw the same thing became best of friends. Some began seeing things no one else saw, and they became best of friends with the straight jacket. There was one thing, no matter how crazy you were, that everyone agreed on. This city wasn’t right.

Not in the traditional sense of “not being right”. This war is traditionally not right. Killing men for power and status has always been on the mind of the corrupt, but nothing about this city was like that. We all knew that we didn’t need this city to advance further into Europe. In fact, other divisions captured towns closer to the Kraut’s main country, perfect for setting up bases of operations. And yet, here we were, the 8th Infantry Division, or what’s left of us, and some Kraut bastards on the other side, fighting for this city.

“Hey, Ghost, since you’re so big on the whole ‘supernatural’ bullshit, what’s going on here?” One of our men asked, “Some of the boys here thinking we are trapped here or something stupid like that, like a purgatory for fighting in such a destructive war.”

“The energy here sure is strong, I’ll give you that much.” I began, as did the laughter, “but there’s one thing for sure, we ain’t dead. Purgatory is a place for the dead, the sinners. Now I ain’t saying some of you sons-a-bitches ain’t sinners, but what I am sayin’ is that we ain’t dead, not yet at least.”

The only thing that circulated morning was more stories. Each one got progressively worse, and they all ended the same. They first started off with an animal caught in some rubble, or a doll left behind. They soon devolved into children without limbs, bodies piled stories high, and stenches worse than anything they’ve ever smelt. As I mentioned, the ending always stayed the same. Without fail, the men all saw one thing before turning away from the scene; the shadow of a looming presence. A presence no one in the camp denied that day, we all knew it was there.

“Do ya think this presence is the cause for us bein’ stuck here? Cause if it is, I’m going to have to talk some sense into it or somethin’, I ain’t dying in this shithole.” Dumbo finally remarked, after the 6th story. We only made it to 8 stories before we all couldn’t take it anymore. Shortly after that, no one traveled alone, and many hardly wanted to go at it in pairs. Yet, there was still a mission to be carried out, whatever that was. Pathfinder moved out as a unit into the city. No point in letting this presence have the better of us, we all wanted to go home.

“Wait a minute… Y’all hear that?” Four-eyes whispered. The unit stopped and listened.

“I don’t hear any-” I started, quickly realizing what I had just said.

We continued into the city with our guns locked and loaded. The air around me began to push against my skin until it felt like I was hundreds of feet underwater. The sound of heavy panting and footsteps became the ambience. An endless amount of time passed before the pressure was broken by a single noise. A noise that I, nor anyone else, would have thought could make so many military men shit themselves. In the distance, we could hear faint coughing. We proceeded with caution and saw where the noise was coming from. Parts of men that should have been in one spot were in another, the trees and grass were soaked in the color red, and the smell was nauseating. Luckily I wasn’t one of the poor souls to start vomiting, I don’t think I could handle the sight of blood and vomit mixing with such lush green grass. I motioned over Sergeant Joker, and we both followed the sound of the coughing. It didn’t take long, as we were still in eyeshot of the rest of the unit, but lying on the ground was a German soldier.

“What the fuck is this Kraut doing here? Why is he- Oh for fuck’s sake, Ghost look at this.” Joker said, motioning his hand at the posture of the soldier. His body was mangled into shapes that weren’t even possible for the world’s most flexible people. His left arm was twisted behind his head, and his right was looped through the opening his left arm provided. The only thing I could describe his legs as would have to be like a pretzel. There was seemingly no life left in the poor soul, but every so often, the body jerked and the soldier coughed out a black substance.

Joker couldn’t hold it in, and we turned around to go back to the unit. They weren’t there anymore. The entirety of 15 men disappeared in a matter of minutes! Joker was too busy vomiting to realize, but I was completely aware of our situation. A maniacal laugh erupted from the soldier behind us. I turned back towards the body as it’s twisted fingers warped into place.

“Der Eine ist hier… der Eine ist hier… der Eine ist hier…” The soldier chanted.

My body wouldn’t move. I told it to, but all it did was stand still and watch as the soldier shouted words I didn’t understand. Soon, other bodies around it joined in the chant. There were soldiers with no mouth and others that were missing everything below their neck skewered onto any and all sharp objects. No matter what they looked like, they all joined together like an orchestra and sung one song. It wasn’t until I heard my own language that I realized two things. The first was what they were saying, which was “The One is here” over and over again. The second realization was that the reason I could finally understand was that behind me were about 15 voices speaking out to me.

“The One is here…” Four-eyes Gargled, throat swinging like a loose branch off of a tree.

“The One is here…” Pussylips rang, eyes scooped out and nose twisted in strange ways.

“The One is here…” CO Philips screamed head spun completely around like an owl.

“Joker… is that what these beings call you?” a voice calmly called out to me. Its soothing words carried me away from the sight of my squad members and introduced me to another.

In front of me, a ghastly woman floated above the corpses. She was gorgeous, even with her face covered by a misty veil. Maybe it was my horny self not physically seeing a woman since I was stationed across seas, but her aura of warmth pulled me closer.

“I suppose such mundane creatures such as yourselves simply do not understand the futility of such things as ‘names’.” The woman snapped. I smiled and closed my eyes. What a feisty one, I’ll have to work for this one.

I reached out my hand and felt something hot. I opened my eyes in hopes of grabbing onto something, but instead, I was blinded by my own blood. The pain soon knocked me out of the daze that my boner placed me in. I screamed as I cradled myself on the floor.

“You dare try to lay a finger on me? Do you wish to die so soon? Enough of this drivelous contact. Take care of him, will you?” The woman said. That was the last time I would hear her voice. The remains of people I’d previously seen as below me and others who I thought of as my brothers all gathered on top of me.

“It’s a shame really… Not being able to hear such a lovely voice anymore… guess I’ll be waiting in hell for you…”

Oh boy... Uh hey everyone! It’s been some time, hasn’t it? I guess work really was a bit more than I expected. Recently I haven’t been motivated to write, which really took a toll on my already non-existent mental state, so writing this and posting it is kind of a big deal for me. I’m not promising anything in terms of consistency, simply due to my motivation, but I will say that it has gotten a lot better. And yes, I do realize this is a lot shorter than what I’ve been doing, but I’m actually quite excited for this ‘series’ that I’m planning. Hope you all have beautiful days and thank you for taking time to read this! -TW

[juushika]

travel to first city > get out of habit of playing Zelda in sleep-deprived travel and recovery days > stall out > pick game back up same day we started playing Dark Souls III again and wow the games do not mesh > oh well > travel to other city again, can’t play Dark Souls while here > tl;dr finally beat The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time

My liveblog from ~50% to the end: game events, Navi as mechanic, time travel???, so much metadata, Gerudo are the very best, cyclical narrative are fascinating and I wish I wanted to play the other games, etc.; it is very long!

me:  hello dark Link is in this one 1) this is the 1.5 things i was not really spoiled for (in context of Ocarina) 2) oh my god i have so much fanart of this scene what a well-done sequence! really subtle and eerie effects/use of reflection and clever combat and like not skillful combat at all “don’t lock on, try and sort of flail until you get around him then stab his butt wildly” but pretty and the fade-out is really effective! so much really good subtextual-to-the-point-of-not-existing narrative; fights with shadow selves are best trope?? i looked at that art again and! it v good! i remember finding this dynamic compelling even before familiar with canon in any way! but it’s not explored, just, “you could explore this yourself, if you want”

me: where is Link keep iron boots when not wear that they don’t effect his weight just curious

Missy: don’t ask they magic also it really amuses me that your biggest connection to OoT is “i have sexy pics of Link and dark Link”

me: what is the logic of traveling BACK to kid Link??? (there is no logic, i know, i know) “you picked up the sword and were too young for it so we incubated you until ready” implies that Kingdom Hearts-esque he grew up in the jar, time passed but he wasn’t there for it but then no! and he can go back! and i get it would be awful to put collectables/shortcuts and then be like ARBITRARY UNPREDICTABLE CUT-OFF POINT being able to pop back is polite; and having offered that, tying it into plot is clever but ……..how???? it work?

[future Juu: Spirit Temple is best dungeon b/c it makes the time travel mechanic part of the core gameplay, aka the dungeons; but the time travel still fails to make sense, here or there or in the ending. maybe I read too much into chrysalis imagery b/c of my KH background? but the original wording, “we put you in sacred realm until you growed up,” just conflicts hugely with everything else time travel does in this game]

Missy: in the room with the rolly boulders HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY GODDAMIT NAVI I GET WE NEED TO AVOID THE BOULDERS YOU DON’T HAVE TO YELL ABOUT THEM NONSTOP hey navi. you don’t like getting squished. i don’t like getting squished. HOW ABOUT YOU STOP SAYING HEY SO I DON’T JUST SQUISH YOU.

me: i am so 50/50 on why everyone found Navi so annoying i have this strong “it not her fault” feel “it the limit of her programing”

Missy: normally she fine but sometimes HEY HEY HEY  HEY

me: some of [the boy’s] retro game adventures in the time before waypoints are… interesting like it’s super immersive which is great more active exploration, less “mindlessly follow waypoint” but they forget that in the samey-textured-fucking-identical-rooms you just … can’t pathfind naturally i come away with this really strong sense of “oh that’s why we handhold” when actually! we could handhold less now that we can have unrecycled textures/assets and rooms that aren’t just boxes! but you still spend  the whole time (in retro games) wishing for a waypoint or a fucking HUD or anything in the world that tells you how go where [examples of retro games that fit this matrix: the original Thief series, the original Deus Ex] and i feel like Navi is that “in such a sprawling and potentially non-linear game, player needs an aid” Missy: esp when HEY WHERE DO I GO? HEY HEY LISTEN sorta useful me: yeah she's good for "how to begin next dungeon" stuff but for stuff like "what do these magic seeds do" "chickens????" she useless and then she breaks out the advice for "DID YOU KNOW BOULDER MAKE THE SQUISH" thanks navi, i had guessed

Missy: hehe yahh

me: there’s actually--and, let us still preserve my overall ehhhhhhhhh opinion of Undertale, but--there’s a great sort of hat-tip to that trope when helper NPC interrupts you while doing a puzzle so that you are forced to “fail” it (need to push three buttons; NPC: “I’ll help you with timing!!”; reminder re: timing forces you to fail timing lol) god aren’t vidya games cool they’re like 50% experience/feelings/narrative and 50% mechanics/game design it’s so interesting!!! i have feelings!!!! 

me: Bongo Bongo actually fav boss so far WITH savestates without, probably hell but with, save stating becomes another mechanic, another move to time, like saving after stunning second hand so i can make sure eye of truth + counter eye + dmg, and then reset to save state if i miss one of those steps which happens a lot pacing great with savestates, very tense without, probably just ragey

Missy: yes and yes

[future Juu: this became a consistent theme. I started using save states to avoid the constant walking back each time I returned to the game, but they universally made combat feel more strategic and dependent on my actions, and less flaily and dependent on ehhh controls]

me: hello yes the Gerudo are extremely interesting is very Amazons

Missy: yes except Ganondork

me: like in any single-sex society, even those created by feminists (Joanna Russ, Nicola Griffith) i want more interrogation of sex=gender, how gender binary works when part of the binary is super unrepresented, characters forgoing binary entirely, etc. esp. interesting here b/c they 1) do have very rare males 2) have contact with non-Gerudo men, so they’re exposed to a gender binary, but how does that impact their culture “occasionally a man and then he becomes king of everything” is super icky for obvious reasons but i wonder what the on-the-ground view of that is, like, they have their own leadership roles, 100 years is a long time to be periodically self-sustaining, does the average citizen even care is it a figurehead monarchy “they just wear the pretty crown and look important; meanwhile, we rule ourselves” system fucked up every cycle that Ganandorf shows up to be ~evil~

me: obviously they do enough breeding outside their race to sustain it, but their culture is actually pretty self-contained/even xenophobic, so how does culture sharing work, how does race work???? Gerudo have distinct skin tone, but are breeding with whiter people presumably a lot, what does mixed race look like??? or b/c ~magic~ is that not a thing, are the daughters all just Gerudo wiki says we unno if they have contact with bio fathers, is there any cultural sharing??? what does Gerudo family unit look like; j/k it’s a “a lesbian and her extended lesbian family”

Missy: Keep in mind Historically speaking *every* Gerudo male in known history is Ganondork Following every game And every timeline So the king of everything may not be so much icky political as Gerudo + triforce of power = Ganon king of Gerudo/evil = harbinger of end of world and Hyrule reset

me: so, Dark Souls-like, we’re sort of stuck in a timeline/event loop, looking at same sort of events in different times/iterations (maybe it’s a reverse Jesus, like, they had this prophecy indefinitely but it didn’t effect daily life, but when it’s realized via Ganon we begin a sort of cycle of the game series) Missy: Most interesting bits there are the Twilight Princess stuff Where the n64 Link is a shade waiting for end of world to pass on his knowledge before disappearing Because yeah--Ganon loop seems like public Gerudo knowledge But Link loop is less talked about. The hero of time is just the legend

me: i’m sort of mad that aesthetic/the plot is just hero’s journey/here have the same narrative 2023842 times makes me not want to play others while iterated narrative is such a great trope and does make me want to care

Missy: Zelda future is open world The narrative is apparently partially taking back seat So the future lore from Twilight Princess would be tasty for you (esp. since Hyrule is bigger and more history has been written) But then the open world of BotW is a different allure. You write your own story etc

me: but open world just so ……………tired the dumb shit one can do in BotW is interesting, i just i like, you know, a narrative or sense of purpose

me: i finish Ocarina i have questions so Zelda sends him back to original time, everyone happy in future, life beautiful, sages together & everyone seems to know what’s occurred or at least that evil gone now child Link shows up at temple, Navi is like bye bitch, child Link goes to see child Zelda does he tell her to not fuck up > Ganondorf doesn’t come to power in new alternate timeline???? b/c either she’s like, hey, i know you want to be an adult now, but time to be a child and live through the reign of terror until future you saves shit, OR they’re alternate timelining it and everything sages etc did won’t really exist, so why so long an epilogue focused on them either way the time travel still doesn’t make sense since all the sword does is pop Link in chrysalis until old enough to use it??????/ Missy: Ocarina -> timeline split the adult saved timeline is the one that leads to Wind Waker, i think tl;dr Link saves world and then goes poof oops

me: “Regardless, Ocarina of Time has always been one of the centerpoint games in the chronology, with the events at the end of the game, where Zelda sends Link back to his youth, splitting the timeline.” (source) okay okay that’s a thing

Missy: yeah so Twilight Princess is the other branch

me: Zelda: still fucking things up sorta gj Zelda she is the center of everything isn’t she, i guess, like, thus the title

Missy: yes she is Ganon-Link-Zelda triforce

me: “When the official timeline was revealed in Hyrule Historia, the placement of Ocarina of Time in the series was revealed to be of even greater value, as the events of the game actually split the series’s timeline into three branches.” (ibid.)

Missy: oh yeah third branch we fucked up branch as in you lose to Ganondork and then.. snes game?

me: god i love iterated narratives it really is a pity i don’t care about the worldbuilding (except lesbians obvs.) and also characters and also aesthetic and also hero’s journey and also gameplay “Link is sent back to his childhood, leaving this branch without a Hero, as told in the prologue to The Wind Waker. Ganondorf eventually overcomes the Sages’ seal and attempts to take over Hyrule, but with no Hero to face the evil,” GJ ZELDA JEEZE like tbf, Link telling Zelda > child timeline is also Link’s fault and Link failing to defeat Ganon > grimdark timeline is also him so he is central, triforce, etcetc but Zelda is actually interesting and Link is mostly fridge horror so, shrug that said, it some good fridge horror i propose alternate timeline for another fanfic i never gon’ write child Link almost warns Zelda, goes, wait, what about timeline shit, nvm, decides to just wait it out seven years of increasing darkness watching bad shit pile up actually seeing it from the ground instead of in summary, it worse than he thought, “i done fucked up”

Missy: do a triforce swap Ganon comes out with wisdom Zelda has power Link still courage

me: Ganon wisdom = grimest dark b/c he would be smart enough to succeed wisdom is power really, it’s more effective longterm than brute force then Hyrule rip

[underabr0kensky]

a thing about things about a thing (me)

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged? At one time yes, but now she’s kinda like my sister. And she’s married. 2. You talked to an ex today, correct? Yeah, it was a weird conversation. 3. Have you taken someones virginity? Nope. 4. Is trust a big issue for you? Yep. I don’t trust you. 5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently? Nah, I haven’t seen her since 2015. 6. What are you excited for? Hopefully maybe possibly getting to have casual conversations with her again sometime soonishly. 7. What happened tonight? It’s not tonight yet. But nothing will happen, I’ll probably drink some bourbon and finish watching ‘Salem’s Lot. 8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted? I think it’s disgusting when anyone gets really wasted if they can’t handle their shit. 9. Is confidence cute? Yeah, it’s adorable. 10. What is the last beverage you had? Baja Blast motherfucker. 11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? Like...five. 12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? Yeah, but they don’t fit anymore and I wouldn’t wear them even if they did. 13. What are you gonna do Saturday night? I’ll probably be playing drunk Pathfinder on Saturday. 14. What are you going to spend money on next? Gas, most likely. 15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed? Nope. Bitch is a psycho. 16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months? Yeah, and I hope my life changes too. 17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? That would probably be Hanna. 18. The last time you felt broken? Yesterday lol. 19. Have you had sex today? I haven’t had sex since 2016, fuck you. 20. Are you starting to realize anything? Yep, realizing I’m still very much in love with her. 21. Are you in a good mood? For once, yes. 22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks? Hell yeah. Dogs of the sea. 23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? I’m not sure, I don’t think so. 24. What do you want right this second? To message her. 25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy? I mean I know it’s happened since we’ve been broken up. So yeah it fucking sucks. 26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color? Yep. 27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? Hell no. I need giggles in my life. 28. What was the last thing that made you laugh? Louis CK. 29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now? God, yes. So much. 30. Does everyone deserve a second chance? Not everyone. But most people, I think. 31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to? Not unless he’s being a drunk dumbass. 32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do? Oh yeah, she knows. 33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? Fuck no, I drink too much soda. 34. Listening to? Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult. 35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore? Sometimes, usually when we’re playing Pathfinder. 36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is? Nope, I couldn’t care less. 37. Do you believe in love at first sight? No, but I definitely believe in like at first sight. 38. Who did you last call? Uhh...Nicole I think. 39. Who was the last person you danced with? Fuck, it was probably Jess. 40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? Because I was lonely as shit. 41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? I have no idea, long ago. 42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today? Nope. 43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush? So many fucking times. 44. Do you tan in the nude? I don’t tan period. 45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss? I mean, not really. She’s crazy, but it’s not like taking it back would change anything. 46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? Nope. 47. Who was the last person to call you? The recruiter from my new job lol. 48. Do you sing in the shower? Sometimes. 49. Do you dance in the car? All the time. 50. Ever used a bow and arrow? When I was kid. I was bad at it. 51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? Probably sometime in high school. Shit, maybe before that. 52. Do you think musicals are cheesy? No fuck you, I love musicals. 53. Is Christmas stressful? Fuck yes, especially if you work retail. 54. Ever eat a pierogi? Yeah, they’re pretty good. 55. Favorite type of fruit pie? Pumpkin. 56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? Demolition derby driver and paleontologist. 57. Do you believe in ghosts? I’d like to, but I’ve seen no firsthand proof. 58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? Constantly. 59. Take a vitamin daily? Nope, but I probably should. 60. Wear slippers? Nah. 61. Wear a bath robe? Nah. 62. What do you wear to bed? T-shirt and boxers usually, sometimes just boxers, very rarely nothing. 63. First concert? Parkway Drive with Escape Plan, Every Time I Die, and Killswitch Engage. 64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? Fuck all of them, but fuck Walmart in particular. Target, I guess. 65. Nike or Adidas? I give no fucks. 66. Cheetos Or Fritos? Fritos. 67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? Peanuts. 68. Favorite Taylor Swift song? Wildest Dreams. Or King of My Heart. Or maybe Teardrops on My Guitar. Idk, I love most of her music. 69. Ever take dance lessons? Not formally, no. 70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? Nope, as long as she’s happy doing whatever she wants and we can support each other. 71. Can you curl your tongue? Yep, helps when I play harmonica. 72. Ever won a spelling bee? Multiple times. 73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy? That actually happened yesterday. 74. What is your favorite book? I have no idea. Maybe Bag of Bones by Stephen King. 75. Do you study better with or without music? With, but only if it’s instrumental, like a movie soundtrack or classical. 76. Regularly burn incense? I used to, I need to get back into it. 77. Ever been in love? Yes. I still am. 78. Who would you like to see in concert? Many people. Children of Bodom more than anyone. 79. What was the last concert you saw? A bunch of local bands. 95% of them were awful. 80. Hot tea or cold tea? Fuck tea. 81. Tea or coffee? Fuck both of them. 82. Favorite type of cookie? Raisin cookies bitch. 83. Can you swim well? I can swim well enough to not die if I fall into a body of water. 84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? Yep. 85. Are you patient? Depends on the situation. 86. DJ or band, at a wedding? Band. My band. Playing a death metal cover of some 50s love song. 87. Ever won a contest? Yep. Got a limo ride in kindergarten because of that. 88. Ever have plastic surgery? Fuck no. 89. Which are better black or green olives? Fuck olives. 90. Opinions on sex before marriage? Who the fuck cares what two consenting adults do as long as it’s safe? 91. Best room for a fireplace? Living room. 92. Do you want to get married? Yes, eventually.