#set building practicing coordinating stuff

[illegiblehandwriting1]

hitting ultra-fast piccolo runs in cut time be like

[taro-bae]

hi! i loved your headcanons on the twst boys w a dancer!reader! cld i request riddle, azul, vil, and silver with a professional figure skater reader and they see reader doing quads? thank you sm, ur writing is amazing!

I wanted to write a figure skater version! Thank you for the motivation

I'm glad you like the writing ♡♡♡

TWST Boys with a Figure Skater reader

Summary: They find out that reader is a figure skater

Characters: Riddle, Azul, Vil, Silver

Notes/CW: gender neutral reader, no warnings, could be read as platonic for some, some scenarios have set settings (eg. frozen lake)

Riddle

Very impressed, he never thought you could do stuff like that and make it look so effortless. He doesn't know anything about figure skating, he did not watch it or ever see it because he wasn't allowed to. So when he sees you on the ice he's staring at you like you're a strawberry tart at a bakery!

You dragged this boy out on an ice-skating date to the ice rink. He was really nervous about this idea, he never skated before let alone even been any public entertainment places. He follows after you overthinking how this will go down.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You help him put on the ice skates making sure they are put on properly and secure. You have your own, a bit more worn out but good quality. You help him onto the ice slowly teaching him how to hold himself up, balance his weight and basic moves. He does get a bit tired and sore quickly going to sit down on the benches on the side lines. You stay on the rink moving to the centre of the space to avoid the small crowd of people on the main circle.

Riddle watched you intently. You move so fluidly as if it's not that hard. He struggled with just simple glides and you're out there spins, performing some pirouettes. He takes notice of your flexibility and how much time you must have put into training. His eyes follow you as you jump of the floor spinning in the airs with your arms contracted to your body legs slightly crossed over. He holds in a breath worried for you trying such a dangerous stunt. His mind is racing "what if they fall?", "How are they not slipping". At the same time he wants you to keep going, too see more. You're skill are so impressive, so beautiful.

You come off the ice, sitting down beside him a little puffed out. He looks at you for a few seconds unable to form a sentence, just staring at you with a amazed expression. "That was beautiful...how did you..." He is still trying to figure out how that is even possible, especially the quad, the amount of force and momentum you must need to perform that. "You are truly incredible..."

Azul

Azul is interested in the concept of ice skating, the idea of using an ice surface to perform such graceful and dangerous stunts. When he finds out you are a figure skater he is memorised. He will be very impressed by the ability of the human body to do such things involving great coordination and strength. Azul is relatively new to walking and here you are spinning and elevating high off the slippery surface landing on two thin blades.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It's the middle of winter, Azul goes to take a walk near campus. He comes across a small pond that now is frozen still. He doesn't pay much mind to it until he sees you in the corner of his eyesight. He freezes looking at you intently with his mouth agape.

You don't seem to notice him standing in the distance, your focused on practising some skills. You can't leave campus so you chose this frozen secluded lake to peacefully practice and enjoy your figure skating.

He watches you glide across the space, keeping elegant and controlled movements, hypnotising him into a trance. You build up a bit of energy, speeding up to push off into a quadruple jump winding yourself in the air. As you land, Azul let's out a breath of air, the warmth of his breath mixing in with the cold.

He slowly walks his way towards you, approaching slowly trying to keep up his business persona. His heart is beating fast trying to maintain his confident composer.

You note his presence, acknowledging him as you skate over closer to him with a small wave.

"Uh...t-that was rather impressive I must say." He says trying to stay calm. His cheeks are flushed in a light pink, if it's because it's cold or if he's blushing, you'll never know. "Are you not cold?" He asks a little concerned seeing you're not wearing that many layers, your jacket and belongings stranded off to the side of the lake.

Being the shady little businessman, he would offer you some ways you could promote yourself wanting to share your talent and profit off it. If you offer to teach him how to ice skate, he would be a little hesitant, he is horrible at fitness and athletic activities. But he would appreciate it wanting to bond over the activity, beware he'll be gripping onto you like his life depends on it.

Vil

Silver

This man here knows how to hold himself on the ice and to do so with grace and elegance. Elegance is his second name. Vil knows the basics, he's got some experience up his expensive sleeves. He knows a professional when he sees one, he knew you had some secret ability. He noticed your form and visible evidence of being trained in a sport. When he realises you're a figure skater he's intrigued.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You were on an empty ice skating rink practising your routine. Vil walks around the the perimeter, his gloved hand brushing the top of the boarder. He stops in the middle leaning slightly onto the edge observing you.

You see a familiar face looking over at Vil who is attentively watching you. He makes eye contact with you realising he's distracting you a little. "Don't mind me, dear" He projects. As you continue practising some skills or going over a routine he takes in your technique and line qualities. The way you carry yourself, your energy. He feels a sense of pride. He stands there tall and confident almost looking like a coach.

He puts on some ice skates making his way towards you. "You've got flawless technique." He compliments you, "would you do me the honour of showing me what you can do?".

You do want to make a good impression on Vil Schoenheit himself. You build up your energy stabilising your breathing, you perform a sequence leading into a quad jump. Vil remains rather stoic but with a soft look in his eyes. He's not as stunned as some other people would be but he feel admiration towards you.

He will share his opinion with you and ask for some tips and advice on some moves. Overall he's very supportive of you being a figure skater wanting to see more of your performances. He might as well film some of your combos or tricks. He is really proud of you and wants to see how you progress and improve even more.

Silver cannot skate himself, however he's seen some things like figure skating growing up in Briar Valley where it's cold. He is a very interested boy who wants to understand and learn when given the opportunity. When he sees you he remains calm quietly observing you. He will compliment you on your skills and will mostly be interested in understand how they work theoretically.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Silver was asleep near the woods like he does often (baby don't sleep in the cold!). He woke up surrounded by a few animals. One of the bunnies hops around almost asking Silver to follow him. Silver follows the small white bunny to a frozen lake in the middle of the woods.

He lifts his gaze seeing a familiar figure. He knows it's you, but what are you doing here in such weather. His knight instincts kick in feeling protective for you concerned you are in the middle of a frozen lake, that's quite dangerous, let alone you must be cold.

He walks down keeping a serious and stoic demeanour. You look over making eye contact as you continue skating. He stays quiet watching but feeling the need to tell you to get off the ice. "What if the ice cracks?" He thinks to himself. He can't seem to say anything he's very engaged in watching you continue gliding across the small lake, the blades of the skates leaving thin marks on the ice surface.

You continue going into a series of jumps. He thinks you look beautiful as you do that, you make it look effortless and easy. His heart feels warm at the sight of you clearly enjoying yourself, that this brings you peace and happiness. He doesn't have the heart to stop you.

You prepare going into a quad. Silvers muscles tense up, he subconsciously want to protect you in case you fall. He feels a sense of relief and fascination as you land coming out of the jump.

When you finish and move onto the edge of the lack back onto the ground he comes up. "You're really skilled" his comment is genuine but blunt. "However you shouldn't be doing that on a frozen lake, its dangerous" He says concerned. You insists that it's fine and the ice is thick. "Are you cold? Would you like my jacket?". Silver is in awe at the fact that you are a figure skater but he can't help but be protective and caring for your well-being.

I headcanon Briar Valley to be cold since it's based around European countries (Sleeping Beauty is set in Italy and the Character names have Italian, like 'Malleus' which is Latin, French even slightly Russian roots)

Anyways, that's that. Thank you for your request!

♡

[jinx-xxed]

Chasing the Light

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N: Kylo Ren my one and only 🤞 I have a lot of stuff I can post about him so stay tuned (hopefully)

Summary; Your nightmares become your reality when the man who’s been terrorizing your mind finally appears before you to see who you really are.

Content; AFAB reader (barely mentioned), reusing some scenes from Rey (sorry queen), Force user hunted by Kylo Ren, mind probing, fight scenes

Wc; 3.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Your dreams have become haunted.

Haunted by darkness, haunted by the screech of an unstable, red blade. Haunted by a dark helmet, visor rimmed in silver, cape wavering in the wind. The figure appears in flashes, darkness surrounding him so thoroughly that it’s suffocating. The scene is different each time; once it was on a rain soaked field, bodies of those cut down by that blade laying around your feet. Another, you were in a forest where it was cold and harsh. Whoever it is, he knows you’re there. He’d came for you once, lightsaber brandished, like he wanted to cut through you before the dream ripped you away. You wake up in a cold sweat each time, a deep panic settled into your bones that follows you for the rest of the day and makes you dread the coming night.

So that’s why, when those dark ships blot the sky, you know what it means.

“Go, take my ship at the end of town and get as far away from here as you can.” You say sternly, ushering your family towards the back door of your home. The streets are in a panic, people running about as darkness descends, desperate to escape. “Try to get to Atrisia, the coordinates are already set into the system. You’ll be safe there.”

Your mother turns in your grip, her hand cupping your cheek, brows creased. “Come with us, my firelight. Please.”

You hesitate, eyes tracing her face as if you can burn it into your memory. Hair like yours, lines on her skin marking her age, bright eyes—eyes wet with tears. You lean into her touch, your hand eclipsing her own, her skin warm and calloused. A sigh blows through your nose, eyes closing briefly to hold back what you feel building at the edges. “I can’t, momma. It’ll only put the rest of you in danger.” Your voice is quiet, like it’s not even yours.

“I don’t care! Don’t make me leave you!” She begs, clinging to the off-white fabric of your robes.

Your father gently pulls your mother away before you break. The whir of engines can be heard outside. “Come on, dear, we need to get going.” He keeps an arm around her, whispering things into her ear. Something about how they knew a day like this would come.

You sniff harshly and bring them in, trying your damndest to wrap your arms around your mother, father, and brother. “I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll find my way back to you as soon as I can.” You try to make yourself believe your own words too. You look at them all one last time as the ground begins to shake. You practically push them out of the door. “Go, go! Please.”

You ignore your mother’s protests as you turn away, hurrying towards the front door. You rip it open, looking to the sky and watching the TIE fighters come screaming in. They’re already shooting, blowing holes in the earth and sparking flames to life. They’re not targeting civilians yet, instead firing off target on purpose, like an intimidation tactic. Your teeth grit, anger boiling in your blood. These intruders, these murderers that act more robot than human, coming to my home and ripping everything apart.

A TIE fighter explodes in the sky right above you.

You jolt, broken out of your haze as smoking metal falls to the ground. Shit. Shit, shit, shit-! You did not mean to do that. You practically just put a massive beacon on you, telling these bastards that what they’re looking for is here. You feel a strange buzzing in the back of your mind, an intimidating pressure, something that’s oddly familiar and has you wincing. You recall your dreams—the ones that have caused you so much terror for the past two weeks—and panic flares up, worse than it already was. Your lightsaber feels like it’s burning a hole into your side.

You break into a run towards the trees just as a massive ship touches down. A command ship.

Your breath comes in desperate pants to your lungs as twigs snap beneath your boots, underbrush catching on your robes as you shove it aside. Maybe, maybe if you can just get far enough away, if you keep running, they won’t find you. Or, you can at least draw them away from the town—away from the people you’ve known all your life. You can only hope and pray to whatever gods may be watching over you that your family made it out of here safely.

That pressure you felt only grows the further you get, which only serves to confuse you. It should be the opposite, so why-

A red lightsaber ignites before you.

You jump back in fear, entire body tensing as his dark form emerges from behind a tree. He’s huge, both in height and build, looming over you with muscles encased in the darkness of his uniform. There’s a hood pulled over his helmet, resembling something like death itself, that same silver rimmed visor catching the sunlight. Kylo Ren, something in your mind hisses like a warning, Commander of the First Order. Jedi killer. Your breath hitches in your throat. “How did-“

“You. You’re the one I keep seeing.” His voice is low, made lower by the way it crackles through the modifier in his helmet. He takes a step forward, you take two back. “Why?”

“How the hell should I know?” You snap, teeth bared. You know just how precarious this situation is, with him being a hardened soldier trained in the Dark Side and you being… nothing of that sort. You can feel your Force powers clash, smacking against one another as he tries reaching forward and you recoil. He wants into your head, but you refuse to give it to him, using your Force like a shield against his sword.

Blue is fighting red before you can register what’s happening.

Your lightsaber is secure in your hand, blue blade coming out to defend against his red. Little bits of plasma spit from cross guards he has built into his handle, making it look like nothing you’ve ever seen before. His blade sputters and crackles, made unstable by some type of injury within the kyber crystal that powers it. Dealing with such a damaged crystal can be incredibly dangerous and volatile; you’d have to be insane to willingly use one.

He’s strong, but you expected no less. You struggle against his saber, hands shaking from the force. He moves you back with ease, boots skidding against the dirt of the forest floor. He jerks suddenly, twisting his saber to bring yours forward and grip your wrists into immobility. “Where did you get something like this?” He demands, his helmet tilting ever so slightly towards your weapon.

“I made it, you ass-“ you snarl, kicking one leg out and forcing him away so you can widen the distance between the both of you. It’d taken you almost two years to get a hold of all the parts you needed to make your own lightsaber. The Force had guided you through the process, willing your weapon into creation without the usual guidance you’d get from a Jedi master. It’d been a struggle, that’s for sure.

He comes at you again, swinging up from your feet towards your face, making you bend backwards to narrowly avoid it. He moves quick, with the efficiency and deadliness of a warrior. You’re able to hold your own—barely—parrying hit after hit, retaliating where you can and moving your body in tandem with his attacks. The trees around you become scarred from your battle, gashes glowing orange burned into the bark. You spin around, putting your arms up to put your lightsaber against your back to block one of his swings and then twisting around to catch him on his thigh.

He grunts in pain, distracted for the briefest of half seconds, and you take your chance. You bring your leg up, swiveling on your other foot to knock him in the side and then the stomach, but when your bodies connect, your mind suddenly spins, and you’re no longer in the forest. You feel like you’re suspended in some type of unfamiliar space, overwhelmed with emotions and memories. Fear, anger, hurt, betrayal; the consoling voice of a mother to a young boy, a promise of better things, the whisper of dark voices.

You choke on your breath as your back slams against the ground, bones seeming to rattle from the force. Kylo Ren stands over you, shoulders hunched, body shaking as his breathing comes as ragged gasps through his modifier. You look at him with wide eyes, lightsaber on the ground next to you, with no idea about what in the hell just happened.

“How did you do that?” His tone is almost feral, deep with a tremble to the back of it, like he’s… scared.

“I- I don’t-“ you stutter with your words because truthfully, you have no clue either. It’s like when you touched him, you broke through his Force and saw into his mind without even meaning to.

“You need a teacher, someone to show you the ways of the Force.” He insists, taking a step towards you. He extends his free hand. “You’re untrained but stronger than you know. Let me help you-“

You smack him away, scrambling to your feet and gripping your lightsaber. “I will never take help from the likes of you.” You spit. “I won’t let myself become a monster like you have.”

He stiffens, like your words snapped him back into the cold, unfeeling murderer he’s supposed to be. You feel his anger simmering, coming off of him in waves. His fists clench. “We’ll see about that.” And then he’s on you again, faster than you can react, stronger than you’re prepared to handle. You try to retaliate; you block and you parry and you dodge beneath the screech of his saber, but it’s not enough. That lack of training and lack of fighting spirit comes back to bite you in the ass, earning you more than a few nicks and bruises. What seemed like a proper fight before now just becomes unfair and he knocks you down with ease, making you wonder if he was just holding back earlier. Your body slumps against a tree, bark biting into your back, vision wobbling as your consciousness is tugged and pulled away from you. Blood trickles down into your left eye, your head hits the forest floor; the last thing you see before the world fades is his black boots walking towards you.

» ☆ «

The cold makes a home in your bones.

Everything is stiff and heavy, like you couldn’t move your limbs even if you tried—and you did try, which is how you discover you’re strapped to some kind of device that’s more of a flat metal board than it is a chair. It’s like a torture device you’d see in history books. Panic floods through you, fully waking up your systems and sending them into overdrive. The grogginess is gone in an instant, and the memories of what got you into this situation come flooding back. Lightsabers, sparks flying, the Force, seeing into his mind, dark helmet, dark cape, dark, dark, dark- you jerk your wrists and ankles, making a desperate attempt to get yourself out of the cuffs holding you in place. You ignore the bite in your muscles, the ache of the wounds littered across your skin; you can feel the dried blood on your forehead.

“I wouldn’t waste my energy on that,” a voice speaks, low and mechanic and familiar.

Your breath hitches, your body tenses. There’s heavy, intimidating footsteps on the polished metal flooring before Kylo Ren rounds the chair, walking around you, gloved hands behind his back while not properly looking at you. You lurch forward on instinct, cuffs digging roughly into your wrists, teeth snapping and a harsh growl rumbling in the depths of your throat like a rabid animal. “I’ll kill you, I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you-“

You hear him huff, though faint through the modifier. “Quite the fiery temper for a supposed Jedi.”

You relax in your seat, trying to return neutrality to your expression. “I’m not associated with the Jedi.”

That helmet turns to you then, and you feel his burning gaze behind the darkness of the visor. “You’re not?” Then he eases his shoulders back, rolling them, and decides to answer his own question. “No, you’re not. That would explain why you’re so unknown, so untrained.” You don’t like the way he says “untrained”, like it’s a disgrace of some kind to him.

He leans in suddenly, his form looms, darkness incarnate. He’s close enough that you can see each ding and scratch littered across his helmet’s surface, left battle-scarred and damaged on purpose. His head tilts slightly to the right, like that of a curious animal, and you continue to feel his eyes on you rather than see them. “Who are you?” He asks, tone neutral but you can hear a note of frustration behind it, like your existence is a nuisance. “Why do I keep seeing a nobody everywhere I go?”

You try to get away from him, but being strapped to a board doesn’t leave you with a lot of places to go. So instead, your body shifts, pressing uncomfortably into the back of your seat as your chin lifts. “I don’t know. It’s not like I want to see you either.” You snap. “I barely even know who you are.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead studying you. You hate the way it makes you squirm, only made worse by the fact you can’t see his face. He backs off and there’s a pause, like time is frozen, and then he reaches a hand forward, fingers slightly curled in. “If you won’t answer my questions, then I have other ways of getting what I want.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

It’s seconds after that you feel it.

Your entire body seizes, uncomfortably tense against your restraints as a buzzing begins in the back of your mind. It’s simple at first, like the drone of a fly, but it quickly grows in intensity from a buzz to a drum to a violent pounding, beating around your skull and making your ears ring. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, your mind feeling like it’s being dug into and pulled apart by unkind fingers. Your nails eat into your palms, the tang of blood just barely whisking across your nostrils.

Memories are uncovered and brought forward against your will, appearing in flashes and whirs of voices. The first strawberry harvest of the season, your mothers laughter, your fathers stupid jokes, your brothers stern yet comforting silence, the time you broke your leg falling out of a tree. Those kind are shoved aside quickly, though they fill most of the space where memories are stored; he doesn’t want those ones. Sweat drips down the side of your face, mouth open as you pant. Pain feels both so acute and so distant, like you’re half in and half out of your own body.

You’re tossed through memories like you’re within an ocean, barely able to stay afloat as you’re tugged one way and then the other. The first appearance of the Force, the way it’d shot out from you without control, the fear you’d felt when it ended up injuring your brother. That one sticks for a while, made to replay over and over by the one controlling this ride that you so desperately want off of. Having to learn all alone, your only teachers being the books you had to buy from black markets, the isolation from your peers, your solitary journey to Ilum, the construction of your lightsaber. The loneliness that has built over years and years surges up, taking over your senses, amplified by the pain you feel.

“You’ve been by yourself all this time. No one’s ever understood you.” Kylo says curiously. His hand tilts slightly, like he’s turning a knob. “You hid yourself away, you felt terror at what you could do, simply because you didn’t understand it. You’ve denied who you are.” You would say something if you could, but any words you try to muster come out as choked air.

His head lifts just a hairsbreadth. “I see it. You want so badly to learn, but you have nobody to show you.” He breaths out. “And yet, somehow, you were able to compete with me. I don’t get it; you’re worthless. You’re a girl from a nowhere planet with a nobody family, a family that would’ve betrayed you in the end anyway. Your powers would grow to overwhelm you because you don’t know what to do, and they would cower away, scared of their own daughter.” There’s something about the way he says those words, like there’s a familiarity to them that runs deeper than the surface. Like he’s said them before, heard them before.

Fire rages beneath your skin, threatening to tear you asunder, your eyes starting to roll. This is not what the Force should be used for—this pain, this display of power. Or maybe it is, maybe those books you used only ever showed one side of the story. There was always a mention of balance, the light unable to exist without the dark. As memories become skewed and watery in your mind, delirious with agony, you begin to realize you don’t know anymore. Your thoughts no longer feel like your own, so scrambled and incoherent that you’re unsure if you’re even able to think properly at all. His hand withdraws suddenly, like he’s been burned, and everything ceases completely. Your body goes slack, your head lolling, but there’s at last silence in your mind.

His fingers rub together as he contemplates something. “You have a great amount of potential, strength that can be brought out with the right training. Leader Snoke will be interested in you.” He mutters. “I feel the Dark Side within you, it’s what you were meant for. So easy to anger and hatred, consumed by your isolation, it will make you more powerful than you could ever imagine.”

You shake your head, but the action is weak. Your words are forced, sapping the last of whatever remaining energy you have. “N..No, no, I won’t- I won’t join you-“

He hums, as if considering your answer, his hands clasping behind his back. “I wonder what your family would think about that? Atrisia, was it?”

You jolt, ignoring the way your muscles smart, lunging forward as your exhaustion is replaced with a pure, snarling anger. It’s just what he wants, but you can’t find it in you to care. “You stay the fuck away from them, you monster-“

“Then I believe we’ve come to an agreement.” He says, helmet seeming to gleam with his cruelty. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to fight someone so badly before, even if fighting him is what got you here in the first place. He turns, typing something into a data-pad built into the wall. “Course will be set to see Leader Snoke shortly. Enjoy yourself while you’re here.”

You don’t get a chance to spit a final fuck you before he’s disappeared and the doors are hissing shut behind him.

[plum-petals]

hey rosie! so, this isn't related to your perfect/stunning spyverse fanfiction, but with the AMOUNT of writing you do and how GOOD it is. I'm trying to write my own book, but everytime i have an idea i only write 5-7 chapters before getting another idea and restarting the process. do you have any tips? also for writing in a good way and plotting, since it's your specialty! <3

hello!! omg this is so nice 💕 i don't know if i have very practical advice since the two biggest reasons i have the freedom to write so much is 1. desk job and 2. no children. 😂 but here are such of the actual, more applicable lessons i've learned for not abandoning my 300k+ series half-way through:

fall in love with organization haha i use docs for writing but goodnotes on my ipad for plotting! it's a paid app (that i would have loved in college tbh) but i love having a virtual notebook for stories filled with planning stuff with options for paper type, handwriting > text, etc. different ones for different stories with tons of customization options to make things pretty if that's your speed (making things pretty is 100% my speed)

planning looks different depending on the story! since this one was covering a year, i did a timeline style outline once i took all my planning bullet points and i laid it out chronologically. this helped me realize stuff like "oh i don't have them doing like anything for this month, let me fix that" or "too many things happening in this span of time, can i move something?" and even tone-setting notes that remembering the season and relation to any greater events. it also lets me drop in moments of foreshadowing very deliberately and add in fun parallels and focus on the literary themes on a larger scale because i can see all the smaller pieces at once.

my timeline organization is generally helped by my color coordination. red for "basically a canon event/needs to happen here/no flexibility" + green for "needs to happen/flexibility in either location or details" + yellow for brainworm stuff i'd like to include if it feels right. blue is for additions and annotations. which are sometimes just an arrow to where a plot point actually happens because i move it or me crossing out an idea and replacing it with what actually happens. blue is my favorite color so it makes my edits to the "plan" feel less like mistakes and more like progress. don't beat yourself up for changing your mind! i do it twice a day. it becomes a bit of a beautiful, chaotic mess by the time you hit *checks notes* chapter 56 but it's okay! like dain redemption arcs, progress isn't linear!

once i have a plan, it's easier for me to jump around as i feel inspired! staring a blank doc isn't really my speed. it's almost soul-crushing tbh. so i'll just close it and write something else. maybe a scene down the line i'm pumped for, or just brainstorming dialogue for future scenes. who cares if you have to make changes when you get there or if it has mistakes? at least it's on the page. or even something silly! for main fic, it was usually xaden pov at first and look how that turned out haha spyverse started with only like six scenes i really wanted to write and built from there! writing also doesn't have to be linear because a story is!

when you're stuck stuck, try writing other stuff in your universe instead of moving to another idea! it doesn't have to the main story to build your understanding of character dynamics and how the plot works together. two side-characters discussing what happened for a scene that's having trouble coming out instead of the scene itself. a random background character seeing odd things while going about their day. your mc doing something wildly outside of the plot like idk studying physics. basically write a slice of life anime for your own protags if you need to feel connected to them, even if a lot of it will end up unused. it'll make the plot-heavy stuff feel easier! even for fight scenes and stuff i never wrote before spyverse, i feel like i have a pretty good idea in my brain about how violet would react to any situation because i know her and it makes everything easier haha

read your work out loud if you can! dialogue especially but all of it really. i worked in a writing center for years and most awkward phrasing and typos can be caught just by reading out loud. ambiguous grammar rules are ingrained in us enough that even if we don't recognize it on the page, it still hits our ears wrong. it also helps me flesh stuff out... i'll just be mumbling violet clapbacks to myself until i find the right one!

oh i also re-read my own writing to get back into the swing of things before a long session! either a chapter back in my draft or just one of my favorite chapters in the main fic. i used to hate this because i am harshly self-critical but now i force myself to because if reading my stuff doesn't still make me smile, i'm doing something wrong lol

7 tips for 7 dragons! thanks so much for your sweet words 💕

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Put Your Gloves Up" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic (part 6/?)

Took a rather long brain break from this but this chapter is finally done! I'm back in the groove of this fic, already working on the next part. Spoiler: the drama is only gonna get worse from here. Enjoy!

Previous chapter

---------

“You’re still worrying about your hands.” 

Rembrandt scoffed and turned to give Ajax a light shove. Swan had more business with Cleon and Cochise was sparring with Cowgirl, so she was left to her own devices running drills. “I am not.”

“You so are!” Putting herself between Rembrandt and the punching bag she’d been working with, Ajax crossed her arms and flashed a grin. “Once you build up some muscle around your wrists and hands, it’ll stop feeling like you’re going to break something.”

“Do you have any tips on how to fix it now?”

“Are you wearing wraps under your gloves?”

“No. Cochise only gave me the gloves.”

“Yeah, she probably didn’t think you’d end up hitting hard enough to need double protection. I’ve got some extra wraps I keep behind the front desk for anyone that needs it. Want me to show you how to use them?”

Rembrandt smirked and crossed her arms, mimicking Ajax’s pose. “Do you teach all the girls proper boxing technique?” she joked.

Ajax shrugged one shoulder. “Only the cute graffiti artists. Wait here.” She swept past Rembrandt, getting far closer than was necessary, and jogged over to the front desk. She came back with two sets of what looked like brightly colored rolls of elastic bandages. “Blue or yellow?”

“Uh, yellow. Favorite color.”

“Good to know. C’mere, sit with me.” Ajax brought her to a bench. “Give me your hand. Palm up. Fingers spread.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing security stuff?” Rembrandt asked as Ajax hooked an elastic band over her thumb. 

“Technically, I’m a safety coordinator, or some dumbass name like that. Most of it is breaking up fights but it’s also making sure people aren’t throwing weights around, proper use of the machines, stopping sparring matches that go too far. Anything that might get the place sued.”

“Don’t you need, like, training for stuff like that?”

“Pssh. Training. My paychecks aren’t even on the books. Alright, ready? Watch me so you can do this later.” Ajax turned Rembrandt’s hand over, wrapping the elastic around it and narrating as she went. “So, you bring it over the back of your hand and then wrap it around your wrist a few times. Take it back up, around your palm, and wrap your knuckles and then it’s gonna make this X pattern from your knuckles to your wrist. Rembrandt, stop staring at my face and pay attention.” Rembrandt blushed and returned her focus to her hand. “After that, you wrap your thumb like this so that doesn’t get fucked up. Continue around your wrist. Then come through and wrap in between each of your fingers. Go around the back of your hand, over your knuckles, secure the rest of it around your wrist, and you’re done!”

Rembrandt pulled her hand back, flexing her fingers, testing the tightness of the wrap. “Wow, you did that quick,” she said, impressed.

“Practice. That feel good? Not too loose, not too tight?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

“Great. Give me your other hand.”

As Ajax went about wrapping her hand, walking her through the process again, Rembrandt thought back to that first night Ajax saved her. She remembered how Ajax stood protectively at the end of the alley, ready to fight again if Rembrandt’s attackers returned, how gentle she was as she wiped the blood off Rembrandt’s face, how strong her arms felt around her as she helped her walk home. 

She glanced up to look at Ajax. Her eyes were focused on the wrap, hands moving deftly over Rembrandt’s, like she’d done this a thousand times before. She probably had. As she finished securing the elastic around Rembrandt’s wrist, her eyes flicked up, and she winked. Rembrandt turned and decided the wall would be a very interesting thing to look at for the rest of her life. 

Ajax said, “Put your gloves on over this and it’ll feel a lot better.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Any time.”

Flexing her wrapped hands, Rembrandt cleared her throat. “Hey, um, I wanted to ask-”

Shouting erupted on the other side of the gym. Rembrandt jumped as Ajax shot to her feet with an irritated groan. “Sorry, gotta handle this,” she said before marching off. “Jaron! Ricky! What the fuck!”

Rembrandt watched as Ajax separated the fight with a single shove and a quick barrage of insults. There was just something about the confidence in her movements and her voice as if no matter who she stepped to, she’d come out on top. Rembrandt tried, but she couldn’t stop watching her. She didn’t even notice when someone slid on the bench beside her. 

“I saw that,” said Cowgirl. 

Rembrandt startled and nearly fell out of her seat. “Cowgirl, what the hell!”

“I didn’t realize there was so much hand holding in boxing,” she went on, poking Rembrandt’s shoulder. “Is it the muscles or the attitude?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Rembrandt denied, trying to keep a scowl on her face. 

“I like more sensitive people, personally, but I understand the appeal. You’re not the only one who goes for the loudmouth tough guy type. There are a whole lot of women in Coney who like exactly that about Ajax.”

“Man, shut up!”

“Y’know, if you asked her out right now, I’m sure she’d say yes. Hey, Ajax!”

Rembrandt jumped on her and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Cowgirl, I’m gonna hit you if you don’t quit that shit. I don’t have a crush on Ajax.”

Cowgirl bit her hand to make her let go. “I never said you did,” she said smugly.

“Quit implying it!” 

“Fight me ’bout it!”

Cowgirl won the sparring match, having learned most of Rembrandt’s dodging tricks by now, which prompted Cochise to launch into a lecture about switching up her moves and not relying on the same combo “like some kind of Tekken character! You gotta be versatile!” Still, Cowgirl didn’t say anything to Ajax like Rembrandt feared she might. It didn’t stop her from smirking and whispering crass comments to Rembrandt whenever the brawler walked by.

That night, Rembrandt couldn’t sleep. She laid on her side, facing the room, with Swan curled up against her back and an arm looped around her waist. She tried to sleep, honestly, she did, and being in Swan’s embrace had always made that easier, but she just ended up laying there with her eyes closed for hours without actually being able to rest. 

She extended one arm out and flexed her hand. She remembered the texture of the hand wraps, the brush of Ajax’s fingertips across her skin, the steady grip as she moved Rembrandt’s hand. She remembered that wink. Just a simple little wink. It was nothing that she hadn’t gotten from dozens of women before, even from Swan, but seeing it from Ajax made her heart pound and her stomach flutter and she found it near impossible to catch her breath. 

On the floor next to the bed, Rembrandt’s phone lit up on its charger. She leaned over to check the notification. 

It was a text from Ajax.

Call me if you’re up.

Rembrandt tried to gently move Swan’s arm off her, a move that only made Swan snuggle closer and hold her tighter. Rembrandt smirked as she turned over. “Where you goin’?” Swan mumbled, still mostly asleep.

“I gotta use the bathroom, dummy. Let me up.”

Swan grumbled something unintelligible and rolled over to clutch at her pillow instead. Rembrandt rolled her eyes, reaching to move Swan’s hair off her face before grabbing her phone and sneaking off to the bathroom. She hit the call button on Ajax’s contact. It rang. And rang. And rang. And Rembrandt was afraid she might not pick up for a split second before her voice came over the line.

“You’re up late.” 

Rembrandt laughed. “You’re the one who texted me.”

“Honestly didn’t expect you to answer. I was just hoping you would.” Ajax paused, and Rembrandt heard a car engine and muffled coughing in the background. “Sorry, I’m smoking on my stoop right now.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Usually can’t. Listen, I’m sorry for running off in the middle of our conversation today. I didn’t mean to cut you off like that so… sorry if I seemed a little, y’know, rude.” 

“It’s okay. I get you have to do your enforcer stuff.”

“Eh, wasn’t even really gonna be a fight. Those two are idiots, it’s usually just a dick swinging contest with them but they get loud and it annoys people. Anyway, you were gonna ask me somethin’?”

“Oh, y-yeah, uh…” It took all of Rembrandt’s confidence to continue. “When you, um, when you gave me your number, you wrote a note that said to text you if I went out so I didn’t get my ass kicked again?”

“Uh huh?”

“I have a spot for a new mural I’ve been keeping my eye on. I was wondering if you would come with me when I go tag it?”

Ajax hesitated. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather have Swanie go with you?”

“She’s usually out doing business with Cleon now.”

“She’s not gonna kill me when she finds out, is she?”

Rembrandt could not believe she was saying this. “Who says she’s gonna find out?”

Ajax burst out laughing. “You’re fucking sneaky, aren’t you?”

“It’s a gift. I know Swan doesn’t really trust you-”

“Understatement.”

“-but I do. And I think even more importantly Cleon trusts you and if she thought you were actually dangerous, she wouldn’t keep you around, right? That’s the vibe I’ve always gotten from her, at least.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” There was a brief silence on Ajax’s end. “When were you thinking about going out?”

“In a couple days? Swan and Cleon have some business to handle in the Bronx so they’re probably not going to be back until morning.” 

“Bet. Text me and I’ll meet you.”

Rembrandt broke out in a wide grin. “Great. Sounds good.”

“Get some sleep, Rembrandt.”

“You too, Ajax.”

Rembrandt couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she returned to Swan’s room. As she plugged in her phone and slipped back under the covers, Swan mumbled something in her sleep and turned over to pull Rembrandt close, pressing her forehead against the top of her spine. Rembrandt wrapped her arm over Swan’s and held her hand close to her chest like she always used to. Swan’s breath was warm on the back of her neck.

“Mercy…”

Ouch. 

It had been a long time since Rembrandt reasonably had a right to feel any type of way about that, but it still stung. She shook her head and tried to ignore it. 

She thought of Ajax instead. 

-----

Rembrandt shoved her books into her backpack as the bell rang. She ignored the chatter of her classmates rushing off to lunch and just tried to slip through the crowd so she could go meet up with Fox. The younger girl still hadn’t quite given up on her self-designated bodyguard position, as much as Rembrandt wished she would. She understood Swan being ready to fight anyone who gave her a weird look but Fox trying to do the same was a little embarrassing. 

The teacher, Ms. Hill, called to her from her desk just before she reached the door. “Olivia, could you hang back for a minute, please?”

Rembrandt groaned internally. Hooking her thumbs through her backpack straps, she stood in front of the desk. “It’s Rembrandt,” she said. 

“Hm?”

“I go by Rembrandt now.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting.” Ms. Hill folded her hands on the desk and leaned forward, offering a comforting smile. “You’ve been a lot more present in class lately.”

“I’ve got less shit on my mind. Sorry, stuff, I mean.”

Ms. Hill waved her hand. “You’re an adult and we’re not in class. I don’t mind. How are things at home?” 

“Better.” Rembrandt hesitated. “I’m living with… an aunt, now.” Because she couldn’t exactly describe Cleon as “community leader who may or may not be the head of a gang but I’m not really sure,” so lying and calling her “an aunt” would have to do.

“I’m glad to hear that. I know there’s been a record about your situation for a while now.”

If one more person called it a “situation,” Rembrandt was going to start a fight. 

“I thought those records got closed after the last time ACS didn’t find enough reason to remove me.”

“I’m not sure about that. I just wanted to check in on you, anyway. I’m happy you’re in a better spot now.”

Rembrandt found it within herself to smile. “Thanks, Ms. Hill.”

“I heard there’s another art show coming up soon. Are you going to have any pieces in it?”

“When do I not?”

“Fair point,” the teacher chuckled. “Well, I’m excited to see them.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Have a good weekend, Rembrandt.”

Fox waited for her outside in the hall, milling around and scuffing her shoes so they left black streaks on the linoleum. She was quick to grab Rembrandt’s hand when she stepped out of the classroom. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Ms. Hill just wanted to talk to me for a second.” She slipped an arm around Fox’s waist, and Fox returned with an arm around her shoulders. “Are you coming to Swan’s after school?”

“I can’t. I’ve got a meeting with my social worker today.” 

Rembrandt froze, her heart sinking. “Please tell me-”

“No! No! They’re not moving me! I promise. It’s just the monthly visit they do to check up on me.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rembrandt gave Fox a lighthearted shove. “Man, you scared the hell out of me! Lead with that next time!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Bad phrasing.” 

“No shit, bad phrasing!” Rembrandt paused. An idea formed in her mind. “Hey, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Uh, okay? What is it?”

“If anyone asks, I was with you tonight.”

Fox frowned, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going out.”

“Without Swan?”

“Why would I be asking you to alibi me if I was gonna be with Swan?”

“I don’t know! Why are you asking me to alibi you period!”

Rembrandt sighed. “Swan and Cleon have shit to handle in the Bronx so I’m going out to work on a new mural.” 

“By yourself? You got jumped last time you did that!”

“No, not by myself.” Rembrandt hesitated, fidgeting with a loose string on the hem of her sleeve. “Ajax is coming with me.”

Fox stared at her blankly. She cocked her head to the side as her brow furrowed. “Ajax… the fighter from the gym? The one that helped you break into your dad’s room?”

“How many Ajaxes do you think I know?”

“I thought Swan hated her.”

Rembrandt made an uncertain noise. “A little.”

“So… you want me to alibi you because you’re going out with a woman Swan hates.”

“Okay, don’t say it like that-”

“Are you going out with her because Swan hates her?” 

“No! After she saved me when I got jumped, she offered to watch my back the next time I went out to paint.”

“When?”

“She wrote me a note…” Rembrandt rubbed the back of her neck. “When she gave me her number.”

“She gave you her number?! Wait, wait, wait a minute.” Fox stepped back and pointed an accusatory finger. “Is this a date? Are you two dating?!”

“Oh my god, Fox, no! It isn’t a date! She’s just watching my back. That’s it.” 

“Then why won’t you tell Swan!”

“Look, are you gonna cover for me or not?” 

Fox grumbled and crossed her arms. “This feels weird. I don’t like that you’re keeping secrets from her.”

“Like her keeping that Bronx chick a secret from us until you saw it on her phone and we had to beg Cleon to tell us what happened?”

“Okay, that’s fair.” The taller girl thought for a moment. “Fine. I’ll cover for you. But if Swan asks me specifically if you were with Ajax, I’m telling her.”

“Deal,” Rembrandt said, throwing her arms around Fox’s neck. “You’re the best.”

“You’re buying me new comic books.”

That night, Rembrandt laid on her stomach in bed, working on a basic sketch for the mural she had in mind. Cleon had finally cleared out the third bedroom and gotten Rembrandt a mattress and a busted up dresser. She had apologized that she wasn’t able to get a bed frame yet, but Rembrandt was content being on the floor for the time being. The room was safe and warm and roach-free and the door had a lock if she really wanted so a mattress with no bed frame was the absolute least of her worries. 

She missed sharing a bed with Swan just a little bit, although she wouldn’t admit it if anyone called her out. Still, it was a lot easier to sleep, even on her own, safe in the knowledge that no one was going to burst through the door at any moment to wake her up with a beating. 

There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Rembrandt called.

Swan stepped inside. “Hey, Cleon and I are heading out,” she said as Rembrandt got up to meet her. “Her meeting is all the way up near Woodland Cemetery so I don’t think we’re going to be back until the morning. Are you and Fox gonna be okay if I’m not there to walk you guys to school?”

“Yeah, Swan, we’ll be fine.” Rembrandt hugged her, leaning her head on her chest as Swan combed her fingers through her hair. “It’s just a meeting, right? It’s not… you’re not doing anything dangerous?” 

“No, it’s not dangerous. Worst part about this whole trip is being on the 4 train.” 

“Could be worse. Could be the G.”

“Do not even mention the G train to me,” Swan groaned. Rembrandt laughed as Swan pulled back. Swan smiled at her, looked away, and then, before Rembrandt even really realized, swiftly kissed her on the cheek. “Get some sleep. I’ll text you when I get home. Night.”

“Night.” Rembrandt stood just outside her bedroom and watched Swan leave. “Be safe.”

She waited a solid hour and a half before texting Ajax, long enough for Cleon and Swan to be well into Upper Manhattan already. Ajax responded immediately, telling Rembrandt she’d be on the corner waiting within ten minutes. Rembrandt took her school supplies in her backpack and replaced them with her sketchbook, a painter’s respirator mask, and her good spray paints.

Shouldering the bag, she made sure all three deadbolts on the door were locked and secure before setting off out to the street. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the stoop and looked around. On the corner, leaning on a lightpost, was Ajax, in her leather jacket and studded fingerless gloves with a cigarette between her lips. Rembrandt fought off a grin as she walked over to her.

Ajax smiled when she saw Rembrandt. “Hey. You ready?”

“Ready.”

“Let’s go.”

------------

I found my old hand wraps and recorded myself wrapping them so I could figure out how to word the hand scene in here. The things I do for fanfic

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 19 - Blood Trail

title: washed up

fandom: hermitcraft smp

cw: blood and violence

~

It was his own fault, really. His own fault that he didn’t check the durability on his elytra, that he hadn’t bothered to enchant them with Mending. How was his laziness more pressing than Mending?

So Etho had tumbled out of the sky, drifting where he could on his damaged wings, until he managed to crash into a tree and fall through its branches, where he landed on the ground just at the edge of a forest.

Etho groaned, pushed himself up onto his knees. His face stung from the lash of the branches against his cheeks, his entire body sore from the impact against the ground. He might have broken his right wrist, caught under his body. It was already swelling up, his hand practically useless.

He wiped his other hand across his face, grimaced when it came away bloody. A quick look down showed he was bleeding from a multitude of different scrapes on his body, his clothes torn here and there. None of them looked serious, or even all that deep, so that could have been a lot worse.

A wrist and some scrapes wasn’t the end of the world, but the dull pain coming from his ankle told him that wasn’t all. He shifted to sit, tugged down the sock of his right foot to check it.

Yep, it looked about the same as his wrist, already swelling up. Maybe broken, maybe badly sprained—either way, he wasn’t walking out of there.

It wasn’t too bad, he supposed. He could be in a lot worse of a situation. Sure, night was falling, but if he messaged the main chat for help, someone would come get him.

<Etho> hey anybody on-world and awake

<Docm77> Hello

<Cubfan135> I never sleep

<Tango> so not bdubs? haha

<Etho> my elytra broke far away… ://

<Tango> oh etho

<Cubfan135> no mending?

<Etho> I haven’t gotten around to it

<Docm77> how far away are you?

<Etho> idk pretty far out

<Etho> [COORDINATES]

<Tango> oh dude that’s forever away

<Etho> yup

<Cubfan135> needing some help?

<Etho> well I think I broke my ankle

<Cubfan135> oh nooo

<Docm77> no potions?

<Etho> nope

<Cubfan135> suiting up now

<Docm77> omw

<Etho> thanks guys haha

Etho set his communicator down in the grass, dug through his satchel. He usually carried a couple of bandages, so he could at least wrap the ankle, get it some support.

He did find an ace bandage, thankfully. He set one end against his ankle, started looping it around the arch of his foot and the joint of his ankle. He moved with practiced efficiency, pinning the loose end and pulling his sock and his shoe back up over it.

He tested it carefully, putting a bit of weight on that foot. Not too bad, but nothing that he thought he could reliably walk on.

A groan sounded from the treeline, and Etho’s head jerked up, scanning the trees for movement. Had the sun already set enough for monsters to spawn?

He wouldn’t be able to wield a sword all that well. He last practiced left-handed combat . . . two or three years ago, probably, on a consistent schedule, he just hadn’t needed it in so long. . . .

“This is why you stay on top of your skills, Etho,” he told himself. Maybe he could construct some sort of shelter? Or—

Another groan from the forest. He’d never been that fond of building, so he didn’t tend to carry that kind of stuff on him. Especially not when he was just flying out to find some unexplored cave, his pockets as empty as they could be. Sure, he had torches, but that wouldn’t be enough to fend off a horde of zombies.

He passed over a village not too long ago, didn’t he? If he could find a large enough stick to lean on, maybe he could make his way back toward it. Surely it wouldn’t be too far of a trek—he remembered seeing it just before he crashed.

Etho glanced back at the forest, the most likely place to find a stick. No sun filtered out through the thick canopy of trees, the darkness much deeper than it ought to have been, even at this late hour.

Yeah. That probably wasn’t going to happen.

He had to lean on his sword, then, and hope that it was enough. Luckily, the ground was dry enough that the tip shouldn’t just sink into the earth. Etho counted that as a blessing and started off, adjusting his left-handed grip on the hilt after each step, trying to find what worked best.

It wasn’t all that helpful, to be honest. The sword was just too short to work the way he wanted it to, and he would have preferred it on his other side. Just his luck that he happened to break the wrist and ankle of the same side of his body.

He probably should have wrapped his wrist, too, but he wasn’t in the habit of carrying more than one ace bandage, and he didn’t really have time. His arm shoved into his sleeveless coat, held in place by the halfway-zipped zipper, would have to do.

He should message the others, let them know that he was moving and heading toward a town, but when he reached for his communicator at his belt, he found the holster empty.

Uh-oh.

Etho turned (slowly, too slowly), spotted his communicator on the ground where he’d left it, ten feet behind him, resting in the grass.

Come on.

“Okay,” he breathed, staring at it. How long had it taken him to walk those couple of steps? Not too long, surely, mere minutes, but minutes were everything at sundown.

Should he risk it? Grab his communicator, or keep making his way toward the village?

It was more important to be able to update his friends, probably.

He tightened his hold on his sword, started to hobble back to his communicator. He tried to keep his uneven footsteps quiet, careful not to disturb any monsters in the woods, but the grass underfoot was dry and crunched, and his gait wasn’t particularly suited for quiet at the moment.

He made it to his communicator, though, and puzzled for a moment with the concept of picking it up. He could bend forward if he put his weight on his sword, but he wouldn’t be able to pick it up with his free hand. Not to mention, when he attempted to bend over, his back shot through with stiffening pain—deep tissue bruises from his fall, no doubt.

Right. How was he meant to do this?

He could crouch, he supposed. On one leg, though? Well, his right leg might not take much weight, but it could at least steady him. He would have to put his sword into its sheath, unable to hold it and unwilling to drop it.

He fumbled with it, awkwardly trying to work his sword into the sheath with his left hand. He managed to slide it in, though, and was about to crouch when he heard the snapping of underbrush.

Etho looked up, eyes trained on the dark woods. He scanned them, back and forth, and quickly identified the source of the movement—a bush, right up at the edge, trembling as something pushed its way through—

A rotting hand shoved aside the last branch, and a zombie stumbled out, arms reaching toward Etho.

Now, Etho didn’t usually have any problems dispatching zombies. A quick stab and slash, maybe a running jump, and they were down. One of the easier monsters to handle, honestly. Far easier than creepers or skeletons.

But this zombie was . . . different.

Etho had seen zombie villagers before. He’d always shuddered at their twisted features, their not-quite-right noises. He’d killed those as well, if they were too far gone to be restored.

This one was, quite notably, not too far gone.

It was a farmer, once. Its wide-brimmed hat protected it from the last rays of the sun, its blood-stained overalls not thick enough to save it from whatever zombie bit it, blood staining the jean. Gloves hung from its belt, one almost entirely slipped out, just a finger pinning it in place.

It wasn’t quite a zombie, though, not yet. Sure, its skin was splotched with green, its mouth hanging open to show rotting teeth. Its eyes were completely clouded over with white, its fingernails cracked and blackened. But something about it screamed human, something in the way it checked right and left before lurching toward Etho, something in its repetitive swallowing of saliva instead of letting it all drip down its chin.

This was a freshly-turned zombie villager. Its reflexes were likely to be quicker, its bites stronger. Usually, Etho would turn the thing back, but as proved earlier, of course he didn’t think to bring an Ender chest with him.

He didn’t want to kill it, though. It was just a farmer, maybe still conscious enough to recognize that something was wrong, and he hated to condemn it to death for not being able to defend itself against a monster—not when he should have been able to help it.

Ah, well. He cared more about surviving this encounter than feeling bad for a zombie.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Etho said, hopping back a bit on his uninjured foot. His communicator remained on the ground as he tried to get his sword back out, sweaty fingers pulling fruitlessly on the handle. “If you want to just hang tight for a minute, my friends are on their way. They can turn you back.”

He didn’t think that the zombie could understand him, but there wasn’t any harm in trying.

His sword came free—

The zombie lunged—

Etho missed. Etho missed, and the zombie reached for him—he did his best to twist away, but his good foot slipped out from under him. He hit the ground and swung back blindly with his sword, pulling himself away on his bad arm. His wrist buckled under him and he gasped, pain surging through it.

Before he could properly turn around and defend himself, the zombie was on top of him. Etho writhed, tried to shove it off, but before he could get any leverage, it was biting down on his upper left arm.

A pained noise escaped his clenched teeth as he felt his flesh break under the zombie’s teeth, fire spreading from the bite. Involuntarily, his fingers released the sword, letting it clatter to the ground beside him. He shoved back, managing to dislodge the zombie—but a glance down showed several of the teeth still stuck in his bloody flesh. Etho rolled onto his back, scooted backwards as quickly as he could.

The zombie threw itself at him again, and Etho had nothing to defend himself with—

It bit into his chest this time, and Etho kicked and kicked and beat at its head with his fist, grimacing as its soft head gave way partially under the heel of his palm. White-hot pain burst from his chest as its jaw clamped down on him—Etho’s arms spasmed, but he just forced himself to breathe through it and kept trying to push the zombie away.

Without warning, his broken ankle erupted in pain. For a moment, he couldn’t make sense of it—the zombie was still on top of him, pulling away with a mouthful of flesh, blood dripping everywhere: how could it have grabbed his foot?

There was a hand wrapped around his bad ankle, and as the zombie pushed off of him, Etho saw it.

Another zombie villager, and this one was a teenage boy. It was a farmer as well, made clear by its jeans and straw hat, and Etho had a moment of staring at the two through tear-blurred eyes before he realized that they were probably father and son.

Then the son pulled, and Etho had a second realization.

He’d only seen this happen once. A villager reported missing from one of his villagers, that had been seen dragged away by multiple zombie villagers. Etho had ventured out in search and discovered an entire zombie villager family, feasting on the kidnapped villager.

These two were taking him to their family.

That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all.

“Hey,” Etho gasped, trying to spot his communicator as they started to haltingly drag him toward the forest. “Hey, I don’t really appreciate this. I’ve got—things—”

There it was, glinting in the grass—he reached for it—

The farmer’s boot came down on it, the screen cracking and fizzing out.

Maybe it still worked?

Etho twisted around onto his stomach, gritting his teeth against the scream that tried to tear from his throat at the turn of his injured ankle. His efforts were wasted, anyhow; his communicator was already out of reach.

He kicked, grabbed the grass, tried his best to fight, but the father growled something like a warning and Etho let himself go limp. He just had to wait for an opportune moment.

They breached the treeline, and Etho groaned aloud when the branches and roots of the underbrush began to pull at his clothes, scraping his skin up even worse.

This was going to be fun.

-

“Uh-oh,” Cub said as they landed at the coordinates that Etho had sent. Doc made a noise of unease.

Before them was Etho’s communicator, a large crack splintering down the screen. His sword lay abandoned a couple of feet away.

More ominous than anything, however, was the clear sign of something heavy being dragged through the broken grass and into the woods, the trail dotted and smeared with darkness that shines in the light of Doc’s torch. Blood.

They looked at each other, a quick analysis of the situation passing between them.

No discussion was needed. They turned toward the forest and charged in.

Following the trail was easy—blood marred it, of course, but whatever had taken Etho had made sure to drag him through the worst of the underbrush, making a clear path all the way through. Cub kept one eye on the ground while Doc followed close behind, his mechanical eye whirring.

Then they heard a sound that chilled their very bones.

A scream, cut-off and choked, sounding from not too far within.

Without a word, Cub broke into a run. Doc followed right behind.

-

Etho was still pretty sure he could make it out of this alive.

They hadn’t reached the rest of the zombie family yet, and the two dragging him hadn’t shown any signs of tiring out, but Etho was just resourceful like that.

He’d managed to roll back onto his back (terrible for his elytra, which he just knew were getting as destroyed as his mask already was), and from there he had pulled his satchel onto his stomach and begun pawing through it, ignoring the quickly-failing mobility of his right arm and the pulsing pain and slow seeping of blood from his chest.

He had torches, a pickaxe repair kit, some basic redstone. Food. Some finer instruments for chiseling. Not much, but certainly enough.

His left-handed throw would be rough, but surely he could launch something at these guys. If he could catch the kid in the face with his chisel, it might loosen its grip enough for Etho to sit up, then swing the miniature sledgehammer at the leg of the father. That should shatter the bone, give Etho a moment to grab his pickaxe off his back and swing.

He grasped the chisel, rubbed it between his bloodstained fingers. He had this. He just needed to breathe, ignore all the pain, and. . . .

Before he could take aim, they broke into something of a clearing—still with heavy tree covering, but few obstructions.

Sitting in the clearing were three other zombie villagers: the farmer’s wife, a baby, and another son.

Oh, no. He’d better not have left this too late.

“I really don’t want to die,” Etho said, as casually as he can manage. “I know that’s kind of your thing, but—”

He threw.

That part worked, somehow. The boy dragging him let go as the chisel hit him square in the nose, stumbling back and covering his face.

The next part . . . didn’t. Etho tried to sit up, tried to swing the sledgehammer at the farmer, but his back seized up with all-encompassing pain, just as it had earlier. He was stuck on the ground, muscles jerking, he couldn’t sit up—

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Etho muttered frantically, doing anything he could to roll to his feet. He’d run on a broken ankle, he didn’t care anymore, but this was getting dangerous and he had to go.

He was too late, not even able to turn onto his stomach as the farmer’s hands closed around his right foot and twisted. Etho screamed, briefly, at the horrible jolt and drag of pain as he felt his bones crunching together—he shoved his forearm into his mouth to stifle the noise, tried to focus through his watering eyes.

He threw the sledgehammer—missed. Just his luck. And now the other zombies were stalking toward him, and the older son was back to it, reaching toward his other leg with his mouth open—

The father bit down on his foot, his teeth held at bay by Etho’s shoe. Etho jerked, tried and succeeded in kicking him in the teeth, despite the added pain to his ankle. The farmer dropped him, but the son had his other leg and bit down on his shin—it hurt, it hurt, and the little baby was crawling toward his face, green hands reaching for Etho’s eyes—

This was it. Etho was going to die here.

He had a good run, he supposed. Friends, laughs, some redstone contraptions. Looking back, he’d had more good times than bad times, and that had to mean something. He must have done something right, right?

He didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, but he didn’t give up. He still tried to get away, still struggled and kicked and flung out. He still shoved the baby away.

But his energy was flagging, and soon enough, he would be nothing more than zombie food. The farmer’s wife, bent over him, tore into his stomach—the other son was gnawing on his shoulder—this was definitely it—

He’d never been this bone-chillingly terrified before, it washed over him like a tropical storm, he was dying—

Etho didn’t hear the thud and twang of the crossbow firing, nor did he see the bullet land, but he did see the wife zombie stumble away from him, landing hard on its back. He watched it, confused, his left hand coming up to uselessly try to staunch the bleeding from the gouge in his stomach.

This time, he did hear the whistle of an arrow, which buried itself in the older son’s throat and sent him crumpling to the ground, dropping Etho’s leg.

Etho looked back, over his shoulder and to the left, and there—

Cub, Cub drawing another arrow, Doc tossing a crossbow to the side and coming forward, sword already drawn.

Etho could have cried.

They had come for him. They were going to get him out of here.

The other zombies were taken out with relative ease (though Doc did splash a weakness potion on the baby and led it away to give it a slice of golden apple), and Cub was at Etho’s side in mere moments, light touches cataloging each wound.

Cub’s face had never looked so beautiful. And Doc’s.

He was going to survive.

“Hey,” Etho rasped, trying to smile. “Took you long enough.”

“Dude,” Cub shook his head. “We can’t leave you for one second.”

“Yeah, I’m a noob.” He felt a bit lightheaded. Probably the blood loss. “Got any . . . uh, potions?”

Cub clicked his tongue. “Yeah, but we’re gonna want to clean these out before you have anything. Which ankle did you hurt?”

“Uh, the right one. My wrist, too.”

Cub examined them both, his frown growing deeper and deeper. “You’ll probably want to get these checked out by a real doctor, off-world. I don’t wanna give you a potion if it isn’t set properly.”

“Whatever,” Etho said, biting his lip to keep his teeth from chattering. Now that the danger was over, he couldn’t seem to stop shaking. He watched as Cub uncapped a bottle of disinfectant, pouring some onto a piece of cloth and beginning to wipe down the wounds—it stung, of course it stung, he knew it would. Etho tried not to make too much noise.

“No head trauma?” Doc asked, approaching. Etho hummed, still gritting his teeth against the sting of the disinfectant.

“Don’t think so,” he said. “Don’t even remember hitting it on the fall.”

Doc knelt beside his head, took his face between his hands—surprisingly gentle, considering the cold metal of one of them. Etho’s mask was ripped to shreds by now, but Doc still straightened it as he stared into Etho’s eyes, his mechanical eye flashing.

After a moment, he smiled. “You can sleep, Etho. We’ve got you.”

Honestly? Sleep sounded really good.

So Etho fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was home, wounds bandaged and a soft glow coming from the lamp at his bedside.

He was safe.

He closed his eyes again and let sleep take him.

[until-the-brahmin-come-home]

Help me out here. It seemed pretty clear to me that Vault-Tec was always the guys who fired the nukes first. What contradicts this or even makes it ambiguous. They build the vaults pretty much from day one with the intent of making them science experiments with no oversight; something that only works if the bombs drop. They fire first, MAD kicks in, all according to plan. The alternative is a huge infrastructure investment based on, no matter how likely according to diplomatic tensions, the extremely low probability that tomorrow will be different from yesterday.

first point: it has never been 'pretty clear' that vault-tec fired first. they are one on a list of suspects, and at no point up until now has anyone been explicitly confirmed as the first ones to fire. in case you forgot, america and china were both very much at war with each other! it could have been either of them, on purpose or on accident, or another country, or another corporation or, hell, it could've been the zetans. that's not the point. the point wasn't who dropped the bombs, it was that the pre-war world had been locked into a spiral where such an event was practically inevitable.

second point: this has been brought up by other bloggers, but vault-tec's motives are honestly all over the place. as a corporation, their priority is making money, yeah? and you only make money if people buy spots in the vault; people only buy spots in the vault if they feel that nuclear apocalypse is a serious potential threat. therefore, vault-tec does have an inclination to keep the situation tense. however, the second the nuclear apocalypse actually happens, you stop making money.

but let's say that they're not actually interested in making money, they're interested in Science! okay, cool, where is this Science! going to go? Science! requires infrastructure; i can record data points every day for the rest of my life, but if that information can't be shared, well fuck, i guess it's all for nothing. what the hell are they doing all these experiments for? if you wanna call upon tactics lore, there was supposed to be a central computer coordinating things, but that failed. if you want the show's entry of essentially breeding the perfect business executives, well, they don't seem to be communicating with other vaults very well either. this is a wider critique of bethesda writing, but a whole lot of vaults make no goddamn sense. and actually, hey, speaking of - if they knew when the bombs were gonna drop, if they planned on launching them themselves, why were so many experiments rushed/unprepared/incomplete by the time the war started?

if this is for neither money or Science!, but rather, wanting to control the world - well, corporations don't really like doing that actually? first off, prewar vault-tec was pretty powerful already. they probably could've set up some company towns if they wanted. secondly, if a corporation runs everything then...the corporation...is just a government now. corporations actually really like having governments to handle all the infrastructure and welfare stuff so they don't have to. also, ruling a wasteland seems pretty fucking difficult. it's been 200 years. zero progress has been made.

tl;dr: what was the goddamn point of them doing any of that.

also: this is actually a pretty minor nitpick of mine amongst a sea of more serious criticisms about the show.

[compo67]

Slowly, but Surely (Don't Call Me Shirley)

Hello, hello.

i am slowly, but surely, recharging my creative batteries. There's less pressure now, but with good things happening. A detailed account of what's been happening. All below the cut. TLDR at the end.

Let's start with the good.

I went to the Big Gay Market in Madison, WI for the weekend. It was marvelous. There were people of all kinds of genders, an affirming and friendly environment, and so many creatives. I felt like I was in community and it's been a long time since I've felt that way. I was sad when it ended. But I bought the most beautiful wreath to hang in my room. I'll snap a picture of it when I can.

I studied the entire month of June, whenever I had a spare moment and for dedicated study sessions.

I made a total of 300 flashcards, wrote 40 pages in my notebook, used 2 test prep books, 3 learning system books, a 100 page summary of competencies, and 2 apps. I answered 2800 practice questions on those apps. I practiced and practiced until I reached at least an 80% in each competency.

And what happened?

I PASSED.

I kicked that exam in the ass! When I saw "passed" on the screen, I nearly whooped in the testing center. I cried in my car as I relayed the news to my mom, who is also an HR professional. I could not believe it. I still can't. Cal Owens, SHRM-CP. It feels SO GOOD to have letters after my name.

I'm also still on that high of completing my HR Management certificate with "high honors" and then earning my SHRM certification right after it.

Then, at the end of May, right before my birthday, I sent in an application to the Arboretum nearby. They were looking for an HR Coordinator. And they weren't requiring at least 3 years experience or a BS in HR. After the radio silence for a month and a half, I gave up on them getting back to me. I sent a follow-up email, as instructed by my mentor, and still no reply. I figured I was set aside and I moved on to apply for more jobs.

Lo and behold, the Arb emailed last week and offered me a phone interview! I spoke with their Talent Acquisition specialist way past the 30 minute time slot, which I took as a good sign. Next step was to have a virtual meeting.

But guess what? They invited me for an in-person meeting instead! My interview was at 9 AM CST yesterday. it was LOVELY. i genuinely enjoyed speaking to the Sr HR Manager. We chatted for almost 90 minutes. It went by so fast. I felt like I had answers to all her questions, however, I wonder if I was direct and clear enough? I haven't interviewed since 2021, and before that since 2016. So I know I'm rusty, I hope my enthusiasm for the role got noticed.

I should know by early next week if they will move me to the third and final round--meeting the VP of HR. The Coordinator will be responsible for managing the VP of HR's schedule in Google. I just learned how to do scheduling in Outlook, I'm sure I can do it in Google.

Anyway! I can see myself working there. The pay meets the market for that kind of job around here, and the benefits are exceptional. And the view from the admin building? Beautiful. There's just a small lane to walk through from the parking lot to the building. I felt like I was in Jane Austen novel. *Dreamy sigh.*

Fingers crossed.

Okay, so let's get the not-so-good stuff over with.

Caregiving for my father continues to be a challenge. I am the only one of his 3 kids he 100% trusts and is close to. I don't get a lot of support from my sisters because A) he prefers me to handle things and B) they don't offer. I always have to ask, and even then, most of the time I end up doing the thing anyway. Sigh.

I tried a bunch of adaptive equipment things for my dad in June. I bought him an electric tea kettle that sits in a cradle and tips over to pour so you don't have to lift it. Well, it works okay for that, but he can't see how much he's filled the kettle. So that went back. I found a pen that "talks" to you. That's been a game changer. You get special labels with bumps on them, tap the pen to the label, and you can record a sound clip! so i attached them to every medication he has in the house. he's been using the pen! Now I just need to convince him to use his white cane.

Watching my dad go through losing his vision has been very difficult. He's a completely different man than the one I knew just 5 years ago. Little by little, things are changing and that change can get overwhelming. I did manage to find him a peer to peer phone program for folks with low vision. He gets a call every month to chat with a lady name Yvies from New Jersey and just talk about what it's like being low vision. I am so grateful to her. The organization will be creating a caregiver support group in the fall and I am on the waitlist.

So, yes. I've gotten overwhelmed at some points, impatient at others, but I show up. In the future, I want to know, that without a doubt, I was there for my father. I just need to figure out how to balance this and find ways to get help.

I continue to miss Henry and my grandma.

Sometime between this past Saturday and Sunday, I fell ill. Like, nauseated, dizzy, lightheaded. [Content Warning: The GI System Going Whack] Then Sunday, I could not retain food or water. I held out for Monday and Tuesday to see if I got better with a little imodium and zofran. Wednesday morning at 7:30 AM, I called my doctor and she said, "Get thee to the ER."

So, I went. My mother was with me. In miracles of all miracles, I only had to wait an hour to be seen in the ER. I was there from 8 AM to 12:30 PM and in that period of time, I got an ultrasound, labs, an IV with a bag of saline, pain meds, and reassurance that my gallbladder and liver were doing fine. And no one misgendered me. It was a good ER trip.

The ER doctor and my PCP have no idea what knocked me out for 5 days. Could have been a virus. Could have been a side effect of mounjaro. It'll be a mystery for the ages, I suppose...

Of course, it took a huge toll on my body. Today was the first day I felt almost normal again. No bloating, no cramping, no burping, and no intense pain in my abdomen. Yay! I am supposed to be eating "light," but dammit, I deserved pasta tonight and I'm not going to regret it!

I also, in my journey through illness, reached the Medicare donut hole. I have to spend $8,000 before my advantage plan will start paying for my meds again. I have to pay 25% of the cost of all drugs. Thank goodness I was able to get on a patient assistance program for my antidepressant, because I could not afford it otherwise. I've moved all my meds, except two, to be generics. I am always trying to cut the cost down as much as I can, whether it's through GoodRx, OptumRx, or Costco. I spend most of my SSDI money on healthcare, medication, and treatments. If we had free universal healthcare, I would have been able to save up all this money, dagnabit.

The difficult things have been... well... difficult. But they are outnumbered by the good things, which makes me smile.

I am excited to be excited about working again. I am doing my best to visualize myself in that role, going into *my* office and sitting at *my* desk. I see myself growing in that department and becoming a specialist in all things HR. This is what I did as I interviewed for the 24/7 Helpline and I got that job. I saw myself getting on a train to Chicago every day until they'd let me go remote. I saw myself as a city queer again. I felt the train to the city already underneath me. I get that feeling with this role. I feel like, if I get it, I will have a Mary Tyler Moore moment.

She's gonna make it after all!

Thank you, if you've red this far. Thank you if you send good vibes for this Arb job. Thank you for just being here. Hell, thank you for being you.

One of my uncles will be visiting us from Chile in early August. I am eager for him to arrive and spend time with us. I know my mom could really use his support and sense of humor right now.

So I will be driving them (and my father, if I can convince him to join us) all around Chicago and the burbs. I hope to gather some TCV ideas from the places we will go. It's exciting to think about.

I really want to take a small trip to Cedarburg, WI. Spend a night there in a bnb, and take in all the shops and restaurants. But my car's oil needs to be changed and my brakes too, so I will have to hold off on traveling for a while.

I would like to get back to work because it's work, but I would also like to get back to contributing to my 401k, saving, paying off my medical debt and car, traveling, and actually affording medication without (too much) sacrifice. Medicare, I was told, would be cheaper than private insurance. Well, I couldn't afford a supplement, so I got stuck with an Advantage Plan. And it's not all that bad (I've met my out of pocket max), but man, do they make it hard to succeed in the system and this is a system primarily designed for seniors??? Sigh.

Anyway!

There you have it. A detailed account of things that I have been up to or coping with or working on since mid-May.

Hockey is gone. Thank goodness the Oilers didn't win the cup. Pavs retired. Wedgie was traded. Delly was traded. Faksa and Tanev were traded. We kept Dutchy, but that was about it. With a burning passion of a thousand suns, I hate Dumba and DeSmith. They will never be my Stars.

Okay. So. Where does this leave me now?

Well, I am slowly getting back "into" my work as an author. I'm hoping I can read a book or two in the next two weeks. I am inspired by the creativity of others and now that I've passed my exam, I have more free time to read and plot things out in my head.

It also helps to you know... not be extremely dehydrated.

Holy smokes, it's late. And this is long.

TLDR: Lots of caregiving, looking for jobs, studying, and recharging has happened in my break from writing. I am focused on securing a job at the Arboretum. I passed my SHRM-CP exam. I had an ER visit this week, but feel much better now.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for taking the care to read this. I appreciate y'all and the safe space y'all have made for me. I'm so glad I get to lean on this cozy, peaceful corner of fandom.

One last time--thank you.

Let's chat more.

-Cal

[steeltwigz]

HI this is steel from 3 hours later WHOOPS wrote a whole fanfic abt it sorry guys, here u go (it's kinda Long, abt 2100 words)

Team Dark hadn't been a team for long. Their first mission is painful, and clumsy, and they aren't coordinated quite yet, even though they can get along well-enough. Rouge was still trying to convince her landlord to make the doorframes wide enough for OMEGA, and it was a slow process, even with the support of GUN's best lawyers to back her up when the fight turned legal. Shadow hadn't even moved his stuff into his room, it was barely his room at all. OMEGA still had to stay confined to the living room, all other hallways still painfully too tight for him to fit through. They had lived together just for a week before the next mission arrived, not enough time for them to get their lives in check yet. Not enough for them to learn each other's limits, tells.

It came as a complete surprise, then, for Rouge to learn Shadow had been having trouble sleeping. Or, more accurately, that he seemed to choose to avoid resting altogether. She had been so busy with paperwork, and making her small apartment livable, and she knew Shadow was capable so the thought of checking on him never crossed her mind. Why bother? She kicked herself for it now.

Their second mission had stretched on for days. The team had been given their week of rest, but, as it was, justice never caught a break for long, and they were thrown back into the fray so fast it made Rouge's head spin. A simple Intel Gathering mission stretched on into a three-day slog through different casinos, gang fights, car chases, and vent crawls. They had stayed at more hotels than Rouge could easily keep track of - she had left the mission with her weights worth of complimentary soaps. Her body ached and dust still clung to her hair, but they had secured their position and completed their task, and OMEGA had only set fire to one building, so she noted the mission as a success in her book.

The mission had dragged them all the way out to a cold, snowy continent, practically on the other side of the world from their home in Central City. OMEGA had spent the ride back recounting his favorite explosions, ranked from most effective to most underwhelming, as Shadow sat silently, spinning his inhibitor rings, Rouge tucked between her teammates. She leaned heavily on OMEGA, bone-tired. The last thing she remembered was a weight settling against her, and an errant quill poking her cheek, before she had blacked out completely.

Rouge returned to her senses slowly, groggy and stiff from the long ride. She was vacantly aware of Shadow still leaning against her as she stretched. OMEGA stood and, after a moment of deliberation, tucked Shadow into the crook of his arm and they were off again, returning home under the cover of darkness. They made it back once the sun had begun to rise, still barely creating the horizon. OMEGA tossed Shadow's dead weight onto the couch, and Rouge went back to her bed, and returned to sleep almost instantly.

--

When she thought back on the mission in the following hour after waking once again, she might have realized how Shadow began moving slower, or how his quills seemed to be raised at any moment, or even how he seemed to stare off at nothing more than usual. As it was, though, she was far too tired and absorbed in her own work. Figured he was just being angsty, and left it at that. Shadow was a powerful being, and a friend whom she trusted. She didn't need feel a need to worry about him.

Rouge had slept through the afternoon and well into the evening before her mind caught back up to the world around her. She stretched until her back ached, and was just about to turn over and rest again when familiar mechanical stepping sounded from the hall just outside her door. Her eye twitched at the sound of OMEGA's chassis scraping against the wall, definitely scratching the paint. With a groan, she rose out of bed and shuffled across the floor to stick her head out the door and peer at him.

He was walking parallel to the wall - his shoulder blades far too wide to fit facing forward - and his head was swiveled to look at the paint he had definitely just ruined. Rouge rubbed her eyes and held back a groan. She inhaled through her nose, then cleared her throat.

OMEGA's head swiveled to look at her, so fast Rouge almost missed it. She met his gaze easily, looking up into his red LEDs.

"Whatcha up to, Big Guy?" She asked, not bothering to hide her distaste at her rest being disturbed. His eyes flashed briefly.

"I HAVE COMPLETED MY CHARGING CYCLE." He stated. Rouge stared, unimpressed. What did that have to do with her? It definitely didn't explain the way he had forced himself into the hallway. Seeming to sense this, OMEGA flashed his eyes at her again and continued, "I DID NOT EXPECT MEATBAGS TO REQUIRE SUCH EXTENDED PERIODS OF REST."

Rouge looked up at him, more confused now than anything. She had remembered sleeping for a while after their first mission, and OMEGA certainly would've had memory of that. Her sleep schedule wasn't so terrible that he wouldn't know Mobians had to rest, right? She leaned on her doorframe, and shot him a confused look. OMEGA merely stared back down at her, until she realized he probably wasn't programmed to recognize facial expressions.

"What?" She asked after a moment of silence stretched on.

The sound of metal scraping brought her back to herself. OMEGA had begun walking back the way he came. She rolled her eyes, and with a mumbled "Oh, for the love of -" she took flight, weaving over OMEGA's head and down the hall, dropping to her feet at the back of the couch.

OMEGA did his best to raise his arm and point down the hall he was currently blocking, towards the living room. Rouge vaguely recalled dumping Shadow on the couch. Hadn't he gotten up yet? She couldn't remember the last time she had woken up before him, though it had only been about a week. She didn't think it mattered so much.

She surveyed the room as OMEGA made his way out of the hallway. Rouge didn't have much furniture yet, a bookshelf that sat mostly empty, some curtains on the windows, and an old couch she had found behind her club. A TV sat in the middle of the room, against the wall, and in it she could see the reflection of Shadow sleeping peacefully on the couch. She looked up at the ceiling, unenthusiastic, as OMEGA finally made it out of the hall. She turned to glare at him as he ambled up next to her. She briefly imagined exploding him with her mind, but crossed her arms instead.

"What's the matter? Shadow's had a long day. If he wants to get some extra rest, who cares."

OMEGA stood silently for a moment, staring down at Shadow. He didn't turn to look at Rouge when he spoke up again. She noted that his volume was slightly lowered than usual, though she hadn't noticed before.

"MY RECORDS SHOW THAT THIS ONE DOES NOT OFTEN REST FOR A PERIOD OF TIME LONGER THAN FIVE HOURS. IT HAS BEEN TWICE THAT LENGTH, ALREADY," OMEGA paused. In the silence, Rouge could literally hear the gears churning in his head. OMEGA turned back to Rouge.

"HE SHOWS NO SIGN OF WAKING SOON."

OMEGA was still hard to read. Rouge could guess, and be mostly accurate, but he was still largely a mystery. Now, though? She could feel worry pouring off of the robot. It was enough to make her shudder, though she shrugged it off, instead cocking a brow at him.

"Do you always track our sleeping?"

OMEGA paused, as if that wasn't the response he expected. He turned to look at Shadow again, then back to Rouge. She imagined it was the best he could do to shrug, considering his shoulders had no vertical range of motion. She sighed.

"Look, Omega. I get that you're worried," OMEGA beeped at this indignantly, but Rouge was undeterred, "but Shadow is organic too, and he needs rest just as much as I do. Give it another hour or two, he'll wake up eventually." She patted OMEGA's chest-plate, though he still seemed unconvinced. Whatever. Rouge turned to the kitchen to scrounge together some breakfast. If OMEGA wanted to suddenly be overbearing, that wasn't her problem.

--

Shadow did not, in fact, wake up in the next hour. OMEGA had notified Rouge of such the second the clock had struck, as if he was counting the minutes in his head. Rouge had no doubt that's exactly what he did. The first time, she reacted with annoyance. So what? Shadow was tired, so was she, and if anything she was happy he was able to relax for once. She brushed OMEGA aside again, said Shadow probably just needed another hour, and went about her day again.

When the second hour let up with no changes, OMEGA had approached her again. This time, too, she brushed him aside, with the suggestion that it would only be a little longer.

By the third time, doubt had begun to root in her chest She knew thirteen hours wasn't exactly normal, but still. She pushed OMEGA back, again, but coincidentally decided that maybe she would finally read one of the dusty novels she had in the living room. Not to keep an eye on her teammate. Pure coincidence.

The hours ticked by as the two thirds of Team Dark sat, watching their couch, and snoozing teammate, with worry.

--

The first thing Shadow the Hedgehog noticed when he stirred awake was just how empty he felt. His body was heavy, as if made of lead, though he felt wholly rested. Some spots burned lowly in his senses, a feeling he recognized being the after-effects of a long and arduous self-healing process. He yawned and stretched, moving to rub his eyes.

What he had wanted to do next was get up to find something to eat. What he had not wanted was to be immediately tackled the second his arm reached his face. The loud bang of the couch falling backwards reverberated in his head, leaving him dizzy. Shadow did his best to ward off his attacker, struggling against their vice grip.

"Rouge!" He shouted, pushing her head away from him, "What the hell!" The bat was practically sobbing into his fur. The unexpected display of affection was confusing and disorienting, and Shadow could feel his quills bristle at the unwarranted contact.

OMEGA, who had been watching the scene, reached over and plucked Rouge off the floor easily, eliciting a "Hey!" From the still-sniffling bat. She struggled the break free as OMEGA turned to Shadow, who had begun to sit up and dust himself off.

"YOU HAVE BEEN ASLEEP FOR SOME TIME." He said.

"35 HOURS HAVE PASSED." OMEGA continued. Shadow stopped fixing his quills. Oh.

Shadow looked up at OMEGA, and furrowed his brows. "Okay. And?"

He looked away. Shadow had never slept that long before, had he? He briefly tried to ponder his time on the ARK, but quickly thought against it.

"So you..." He paused. A deep breath in, as his brain seemed to process, "So you were just watching me sleep that whole time?"

OMEGA turned his head away briefly, then looked back at Shadow. "ROUGE SPENT MOST OF IT PACING. THERE IS NOW A SIGNIFICANT DIP IN THE FLOOR."

Rouge struggled harder and kicked OMEGA, the metal clang ringing through the apartment. "That's only because you kept following me!" OMEGA turned away to think about that. He set Rouge back down on the floor after a moment and she harrumphed, before facing Shadow. He shrunk under her gaze, slightly embarrassed, perhaps, for the trouble.

"Are you-?" She began, slowly, "I mean, is that normal, for you?"

Shadow only shrugged. He knew his body would rest differently, and he certainly recognized the way he felt now, but the 35 hours felt like a slap in the face. He didn't remember it ever taking that long for him to heal. Besides, he recalled Rouge having read all of the Professor's experiment logs. He figured she should've known the answer for herself.

She simply nodded. They stood around the fallen couch in silence, awkwardly. A moment passed, none sure what to do, before Rouge clapped her hands together. The sound caught everyone's attention.

"Well!" She said, voice laced with false cheer, "Why don't we go get something to eat, huh? I'm starved." It took a moment for him to weigh his choices, but Shadow eventually nodded enthusiastically, and Rouge smiled at him, genuine and relieved. OMEGA stepped over the couch still on the floor, and Rouge glided past, leading them out of the apartment. She caught Shadow's muttered 'what happened to the hallway?' as he and OMEGA filed out the door, and she locked it behind them with a dramatic groan.

[abodywithorgans]

☕️ + vocal range

Playing with the different vocal registers is really important for range stuff. Almost everyone talks in the modal register, which means almost everyone has had heaps of unintentional practice with only one of the four registers. To go up you'll want to play with the falsetto register and the whistle register, to go down you'll want to play with vocal fry. My view is that strengthening one register tends to help strengthen the others as well. I spend a fair amount of time singing by breathing in instead of out, too, because it's another aspect of the voice that I think is under-explored and which might be unexpectedly fruitful.

My approach to vocal stuff generally is that if I can make a sound consistently and comfortably, it is a good sound — regardless of how it sounds. Yay for safe sounds! Whether a given sound is musically useful in an unamplified choir setting, or after digital editing and filtering? I don't know, those are different questions.

I'm not sure how much I can help as far as finding a register for the first time is concerned, so much of it is attempted mimicry before eventually stumbling into and coming to know it somatically. Typical explanations of the registers posit vocal fry as the lowest, sort of crackly, modal as the normal voice you always speak in, falsetto as higher and softer, and whistle as, just, so high and shrill. The registers are generally super flexible in how they sound, though, so those explanations are a starting point with limited uses.

I find that if you can manage a squeak or other uncontrolled sound at a given pitch or in an unfamiliar register, then you can slowly build towards more stability and flexibility there as well. Sometimes there's this sensation of... hang on, I know that I'm really close to singing this note but nothing is coming out. So not being afraid of non-phonation is also useful? It lets you revisit or stay in that feeling while slowly reconfiguring the vocal apparatus until something happens.

To strengthen a vocal register, you must spend time singing in that vocal register. I typically do arpeggios in the given register on a variety of vowels and on m's and n's and ng's and z's at a variety of volumes. I like to try and take each register as high as it can go and as low as it can go; they tend to overlap, which is fun. I like to try to talk in ever higher falsettos and ever lower vocal fries, hopefully eventually in the whistle register as well, because talking requires a lot of coordination that a plain vowel does not. That's useful!

If you can't do arpeggios in a given register yet, just finding one note and returning to it periodically is good. Then try to find another note, either at a jump or by sliding around. Accumulate them bit by bit.

Singing as quietly as possible is also handy, I like to sit with an audio spectrograph in front of me (I use an android app called spectroid) and then I try to produce a note that just barely rises above the ambient background noise. Often I overshoot! But that's okay, I try again. Using an audio spectrograph also lets me see the volume of the overtones as compared to the fundamental frequency, which could be an in for overtone singing if I wanted it to be.

Inhaled singing is really useful for singing lower. Inhaled, I can sing an A0. I also suspect that spending time down there, singing inwards, has helped my vocal fry develop more stability and merge a bit better with the modal voice, so my exhaled range is able to go lower as a result. There's an identifiable note in my vocal fry! It's not just a big swathe of amorphous pitches anymore!

Curiously, I haven't really learned any songs. I just do... this. I recommend tolerant roommates, singing when the house is empty, or singing on walks away from people, or soundproof rooms. Truly, I wish I had a soundproof box to scream and boop and blep in. Then I could more comfortably mess about with distortion, too :3

If anyone has more questions on vocal stuff I would be very happy to try and answer!

[legolasghosty]

Cruise Ship AU plus Dinosaurs AU

Okay sorry on the delay, been dealing with family holiday stuff! But ooooooo, interestinggg!!! So for whatever reason, my first thought was basically a cruise ship Jurassic Park type setup. Dinos as an attraction on a cruise ship.

Dinosaurs have been recreated using *Science*, and while they're mostly in zoos and labs these days, they're not the most uncommon thing anymore. They have to be kept contained though cause they can absolutely destroy an ecosystem either from eating a ton of plants or just being a predator that the biome doesn't know how to control.

But at least the smaller ones are understood well enough to be attractions. Not on a full scale dino island kind of thing, but a few here and there are totally cool! (or considered to be so by everyone other than the employees who are NOT getting paid enough for this...)

Enter Phantasmic Cruises, a cruise company that brings the past to you, aboard one of the half dozen state of the art cruise ships. Why wonder about the ghosts of the past when you can experience them for yourself? Run of course by the one and only Caleb Covington, each ship features a unique time period experience. (With all the modern amenities of course). So one is all Victorian era, attire included, another is themed around the middle ages, though very glorified and much cleaner, and that kind of thing.

Caleb's newest insane brain child is a ship centered around the Jurassic period. With actual dinosaurs included, of course. And, insane or not, what Caleb says goes. So Julie, the head interior designer of the ship, Alex, the main engineer, Reggie, the future captain, and Luke, the entertainment coordinator, have to figure out how to somehow make this thing come to life.

The four of them haven't worked together directly prior to the project, though Alex and Julie have seen each other's work in passing, Luke has done some work on the ship Reggie was first mate on before this, and Luke is well aware of Julie's style when it comes to creating great entertainment spaces. So they know of each other, but they aren't friends.

Julie and Alex meet first in a meeting about the overall design of the ship. Caleb introduces them himself, and then springs it on them that they're basically the heads of their respective teams on the project. Cue joint freaking out and potentially hiding in a closet together while working through their matching panic attacks. And then they're just bonded for life after that. They butt heads a fair amount, as what is best engineering wise isn't always the best interior design wise and vice versa. But they figure it out.

Then Reggie and Alex meet in a crew meeting about what the basic idea for the ship will be and what kinds of training and safety stuff will have to be done moving forward. Reggie makes Alex laugh a bit more than he probably should have, but they grab coffee after, just to get to know each other as human beings, and they're well on their way to becoming besties.

Luke and Julie, meanwhile, have already gotten into an argument about the design of the stage in the main event space. Luke wants the lighting to be a certain way, Julie insists it's not practical to set it up that way. They end up compromising, but not before exchanging a few heated insults.

The gang finally all meets up, along with the financial manager for the project, Flynn, the PR specialist, Carrie, and the... dinosaur handler, Willie. Flynn and Julie already know each other well from previous projects, and Carrie did a whole publicity tour thing at one of Reggie's old ship jobs so they're pals. Willie doesn't know any of them, but a few side comments indicate some kind of connection to Caleb...

Needless to say, the project is an absolute mess from start to finish. I mean, who builds a cruise ship with dinosaurs? But somehow, they pull it off. And they all get to know each other REALLY well.

Alex and Carrie find a shared love of bubblegum pop and take to working together in an office with the music on blast. They're good body doubles for each other.

Flynn, Luke, and Reggie end up in a rather dramatic argument about which brand of energy drink is the best (while they are all highly sleep deprived due to a deadline and on at least their third of their respective beverages), which turns into lighthearted teasing once the crisis is solved.

Julie and Luke keep butting heads, but somehow it always seems to work out. And the results are pretty dang cool. Though no one mentions the random, poetic sounding lines that are sometimes seen scribbled on the corners of the memos the two pass around. Or that the line on Julie's latest one seems to match up with the one on Luke's from the other day.

Alex and Willie kinda skirt around each other for a bit, not really wanting to admit that they think their coworker is really cute and sweet. But eventually they give up and actually go out for dinner. And it goes really well! It takes them a while, and they have to learn some pretty tricky stuff about work-life balance and leaving the ship at the door when they're going out and stuff. But they make it work!

In the end, the ship does work out, though maybe not exactly how Caleb originally planned. Oh well, it's booked out for the first year and a half within a few weeks of opening, and no one gets hurt. So... win for team JATP!

Yep that's what I got! Hope you enjoyed, thank you for the ask!!!

[bbyyxoxo]

How to Protect Your Energy ⚡️

1) Set boundaries.

For example learn to say, that doesn’t work for me. Drawing a line beyond which you simply can’t extend yourself is a powerful protective measure that lets you channel your energy, and keeps the draining influences of other people’s demands at a distance. Don’t feel bad for saying no. Your needs are just as important as the next persons.

2) Use mindfulness.

This is all about policing your thoughts and intentions. We are what we think we are, so when you constantly focus on how stressed or tired you are, how busy this awful day is, then stressed, tired and busy are all you’ll be. Mindfulness is the practice of being aware of what you’re thinking and how you’re talking to yourself, as well as how the attitudes of those around you affect you. When you achieve this awareness, tuning into positivity, and away from negativity (inside and out), becomes so much easier.

3) Be aware of your triggers.

Protect your energy from the wasting effects of both anxiety and stress by learning, and working with your triggers. If deadlines stress you out, learn to become a maven of organization. Social anxiety? Limit your encounters to ones you find actually enjoyable, rather than those you feel pressured to attend. Again, there is such power in saying no, no thank you, pass. If there’s something at work that triggers you, have a conversation with your boss or coworkers to ask and see if there’s a way to avoid that trigger. Focus on what you’ll be able to do after that trigger is removed to help persuade them.

4) Clean your physical and mental spaces.

De-cluttering your zones at home, at work and in your head is a powerful way to protect your energy. Maintaining a solid, grounded mental state is difficult when you're hemmed in on all sides by physical and emotional stuff. That kind of environment lends itself more to disorder, chaos and stress. Clear the dross. Get rid of things (and, yes, also people) that just aren't doing you any good. From old clothes you'll never wear again to anxiety-inducing social media you follow and especially to toxic people: donate, un-follow, un-friend. Difficult? Sometimes. But also totally worth it.

5) Trust your gut.

Dealing with a person or situation that feels unhealthy? Protect your energy by listening to your instincts. You'll learn who or what isn't good for you by how you feel after dealing with them. If they leave you feeling drained or just distracted and a little overwhelmed, there's a reason for that. Pay attention and limit your exposure to anything and anyone that causes you to feel off.

6) Have a solid social circle.

Go toward people, groups and activities that make you feel good. Just as someone draining you negatively affects your energy, so being around happy people that make you feel comfortable will have a positive effect. At work, this can mean seeking out coworkers whose vibes you really like and finding ways to spend more time together. Coordinate lunch or coffee breaks, after-work drinks or even a weekend hangout. Tuning in to folks who leave you feeling energized makes it that much easier to protect yourself from the influences of those who don't.

7) Build a “wall.”

When it comes to protecting yourself from negative energy, creating a barrier is a super useful practice. Much the same as thinking about your happy place, doing this taps into the power of visualization. Take a breath, close your eyes and surround yourself with a soft white positive light. Think of it as a protective bubble, a force field or some good old-fashioned light therapy. Whatever you call it, it's a solid way to block out negative vibes.

8) Stop giving away your energy.

The fact is, you feel drained because you allowed someone or something to take all that happy healthy energy from you. When it comes to saying no and setting boundaries, you have to want to do so. Not because you know you should, but because you understand the benefits of protecting and feeding your own energy, as well as the consequences of always feeding someone else's. A difficult idea to put into practice for a lot of us, since we tend to want to help our coworkers, friends and family more than ourselves. But that old adage is true: you have to love yourself, first. You have to really want to.

[etherealstudiocraft]

Reaching New Heights of Productivity: Leveling Up Through the 7 Stages

Let's get real - who couldn't use way more productivity superpowers these days? We all have mad untapped potential when it comes to getting stuff done. But maximizing your effectiveness can feel impossible.

That's why you gotta shift your mindset! View your productivity skills as something you can always take to the next level. Build them continually through 7 advancing stages that I like to call:

Level 1 - Newbie

We all start as newbies! At this basic level, you finally create structures like daily to-do lists and calendar reminders to wrangle the chaos. But you still get derailed on the daily by distractions, while procrastination leaves you hustling down to the wire, leaving you pissed. Been there, my friend!

Level 2 - Put Together Beginner

Now you crush it by establishing routines to hold the line. But you overcommit to meaningless meetings and extras tasks that overload your schedule. Can't bring yourself to just say "NOPE"! And sticking firmly to your plans is quite hard when fires keep starting left and right! The struggle is real...

Level 3 - Grasshopper

Here is where major progress mounts defending against distractions. You finally block addicting social feeds and disable those pesky notifications to find your flow...

Level 4 - Efficient Expert

Now we're cookin'! You've gained mad skills knocking items off your daily to-do's quickly. Delegating tedious stuff, collaborating with your squad, and setting up automation like data collection has freed up mega time! But continuing adulting on those stretched out goals still needs some help...

Level 5 - Sharp Shooter

This is when you become stone cold eliminating distractions and hyper focused on big rocks priorities. You set goals with military precision following SMART models. Health regimens with smoothie cleanses, 7 minute workout apps, and vision board manifesting amp up your drive! Tons of progress, but more beast mode is possible!

Level 6 - Virtuoso

You produce at an unbelievable level through balancing workload and life fuel. Tracking mini-wins gives you little bursts of dopamine to stay hyped! Your toolkit is fine-tuned and failures bounced back from fast thanks to Jedi mindset mastery. Sky-high standard through next level prioritization makes you prime mentor material!

Level 7 - GOAT

You're undisputed GOAT status stems from insane discipline hardwired to ambition/purpose. Ruthless in culling tasks with highest magnitude impact daily. Your zen workflow allows handling vastly more output without compromise. Congrats - your productivity sorcery makes you a legendary icon! Time to pay it forward mentoring other up and comers.

While you're exploring the ins and outs of boosting productivity on the blog, consider taking your journey to the next level with my exclusive Productivity Planner. It's designed to enhance your daily routines and simplify your path to success.

This planner isn't your everyday organizer; it's a practical companion in your pursuit of productivity. Imagine your to-do list transforming into a well-coordinated symphony of accomplishments.

Ready to navigate your daily tasks with precision and finesse? The Productivity Planner is crafted to make your workload feel more manageable and, dare I say, enjoyable. It's not just a planner; it's a tool for turning aspirations into achievements.

Explore the possibilities of improved productivity. Check out the planner by clicking here.

[chengdeukie]

Empowering Tomorrow's Leaders: The Night that Fosters Connection

As eyes danced around the corner, the one worth the stare is on a standstill. The unforgettable night unfolds with lights swaying in sync with the pulsating music, engulfing the campus in loud shouts and cheers.

On the enchanting night of November 3, 2023, the Western Mindanao State University - Pagadian Campus went all out for Crimsons night. The excitement buzzed around as students geared up for the induction and socialization bash. People were hyped, getting dressed to impress for the big event. With a Halloween twist, the place lit up with awesome costumes. You had folks rocking movie characters and others going all-in on spooky vibes like vampires and killers.

The vibe on the grounds was like a mixtape of personalities, giving everyone a cool chance to mingle and make new friends. University life serves as a microcosm of the real world, where effective communication and collaboration are essential skills. Interacting with fellow students provides a platform for honing these skills in a relatively low-stakes environment. The ability to work harmoniously with diverse personalities is an invaluable asset in any professional setting. I opted for a drama-free look, donning a simple black dress with a back slit and paired it with black heels. I added a cute touch with a black ribbon pinned to my hair.

As the program kicked off, everyone paraded down the aisle in their adorable and spooky costumes. I was impressed by the effort everyone put into their looks—each department excelled in dancing, storytelling, and singing. The highlight that took me by surprise and made my heart race was when my crush hit the dance floor with some serious moves. I couldn't help but shout in excitement that night. Oh, and did I mention the spooky booth the USC set up for everyone to explore? The second part of the program began, and it was time for the induction ceremony. Officers from every classroom, along with the newly elected USC officers, made their way down the aisle, gearing up to embrace their roles as student leaders. Ma'am Rico, the Campus Coordinator, led the ceremony. Each student's words carried the weight of responsibility and a commitment to good leadership.

Student leaders are not only responsible for the present but also play a vital role in preparing for the future. The induction process equips them with skills that extend beyond their academic years, preparing them for leadership roles in their careers and communities beyond the educational institution. The night ended with an ear banging disco, everyone danced their heart out in the isle. Some departed early to savor dinner, others immersed themselves in the eerie allure of spooky booths, and a few explored the venue, seeking special moments and capturing them as enduring memories.

The candid shots and electrifying shouts provided freshmen with a novel and memorable experience. In the fast-paced world of academia, where lectures, assignments, and exams dominate the scene, the significance of students coming together often takes a back seat. However, the importance of cultivating meaningful relationships among students cannot be overstated. In conclusion, the importance of students getting together goes beyond the academic realm.

Students hanging out isn't just about school stuff—it molds people intellectually, socially, and emotionally. The friendships made in these crucial years set the stage for a helpful network, diverse viewpoints, and practical skills that go way beyond college. Supporting these connections is like investing in a student's all-around growth, preparing them for life's challenges, not just exams. Also, student leadership is a big deal. Bringing in new leaders, giving them skills and responsibilities, is a key step in building a positive and effective student community. So, it's not just about hitting the books; it's about setting up students for success in life.

[modnexus]

AR/VR: A New Era of Sports Training & Fan Interaction

The intersection of technology and sports has always been an exciting frontier, but in recent years, Augmented Reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR) have emerged as game-changers. All these technologies are not simply sci-fi stuff that may be used in the distant future; on the contrary, they are already altering the athletes’ preparation process as well as the fans’ view of the games. This blog focuses on the enormous role of AR and VR in sports today and in the future, the opportunities provided by the new technologies in training, and in fans’ experience.

Training the Impossible with AR & VR

Virtual Training Environments

VR has heralded a revolution in sports training as it offers an opportunity for athletes to simulate real-life scenarios and hone skills in the virtual world. While conventional exercises involve physical manipulation of objects and tools coupled with a fixed training environment, the use of VR to train athletes provides a programmable environment that may be replicated anywhere.

For example, in football, what can be recreated in VR literally resembles the real game moments on the field, for example, different offenses or defenses, and high-pressure situations. It helps players to practice the scripts of the plays, enhance their ability in the aspects of tactics, and get familiar with the various conditions that may be difficult, almost impossible to simulate, or reproduce in actual life and hence reduce the probabilities of getting injuries. As a virtual approach, it is time efficient and gives the opportunity to practice selected scenes over whose occurrence on the field one has no control.

Likewise, in tennis training, players will benefit from VR systems because it will be possible to train on various surfaces and under different weather. Used for this purpose, the on-field practice has the potential of enabling the athletes to simulate different conditions against which they are likely to push through in the actual matches.

Enhanced Visualization and Analysis

Its use of advanced data analytics, combined with AR and VR, provides athletes and coaches with key performance insights. AR can map real-time data onto the real physical environment and provide feedback within training exercises. For instance, the AR glasses could display all sorts of information such as speed, accuracy, or even trajectory straight on the athlete’s goggles. This is opposed to recording lessons that are later viewed and then a coach can give feedback, which is much less effective.

The overall analysis is carried out a notch higher in VR since it enables a circular view of the gameplay and practice sessions. Players can watch all the perspectives of performance meaning they can be able to see their movements and the decisions they would have made besides reviewing their performance. For instance, soccer players are able to study how they are positioned and how they and their teammates and opponents move during a match. It gives an opportunity to trace strengths and challenges to promote more efficient training activities and build up effective strategies.

Injury Rehabilitation

Rehabilitation Of Injured Persons is yet another area where VR is proving quite useful. The techniques that have been used in the conventional rehabilitation processes may be boring and less encouraging in comparison to the use of virtual reality. Strength, agility, and coordination are difficulties that may be repaired through virtual exercises while in a sports setting an athlete can be forced to practice movements necessary for specific sports.

For instance, one in need of rehabbing a knee injury may use VR to practice shooting hoops with the resistance of the knee being simulated or the shooting angle changed. This not only helps in the physical rehabilitation but also allows for mental preparation for the athlete thus ensuring that they do not get out of touch with their sport. Further, VR enables following up on achievements and modifying the exercises according to the results achieved in real time which guarantees an effective rehabilitation program.

Enhancing Viewer Experience with AR and VR

Immersive Viewing

In reference to the access to live events for sporting enthusiasts, VR has totally changed the experience. Even though the broadcast is available for the fans to watch games the VR experience brings a more inclusive and engaging viewing angle. For such spectators the use of VR headsets allows them to be present at the game choosing the angle of the view to their preference being in the middle of the field or the court.

This is not just limited to the point of view that you are watching the game, but being a part of it. People can be immersed in matches and have an opportunity to become spectators of the virtual stadium, meet other ‘online spectators’, and even receive some unseen parts of the matches. Thus, VR experiences could include such things as virtual tours of the locker rooms or engaging the fans’ zone, which, in fact, would create a whole new level of observing sports.

Augmented Game-Day Experience

AR is complementary to watching live sports since it gives an opportunity to enrich the viewer with more data and become a part of the event. This means that fans who are using smartphone or AR glasses applications can view real-time statistics, player bios, and much more during the game. For example, in a game, an AR app might display player statistics on the screen as the game ensues, to provide details of each’s performances and of the teams.

Some of the AR experiences to be provided in the stadiums are games and other activities to be provided during the intervals in the games. A virtual mascot is likely to communicate with fans or there can be augmented reality games set up in a stadium corridor where fans can engage themselves in sport-related games. Such features are not only the icing on the cake when it comes to enjoying an event but also are a good way to help improve the bond between fan and team.

Personalized Content and Engagement

There’s nothing quite as alluring for AR and VR in sports as the possibility to deliver content and interact with the audience. It must also be noted that VR platforms can customize the experience in accordance with the user inclinations, for example, unique camera shots or interactions with a player. Such levels of customization make sure that the fans retain good memories of whenever they are viewing.

AR can also construct experiences with fans that cannot be described by the typical categorization of engagement. For instance, fans can use AR to attend virtual interaction sessions with athletes, tour history quirky and engaging team history installations, or play AR-compatible sport-themed games. These ever-enhancing interactional platforms further make fans’ engagement with their favorite teams or players more wholesome and fulfilling in their sporting activities.

The Future of AR and VR in Sports

Incorporation with Artificial Intelligence

Moving forward, the use of AI together with AR & VR has the potential of enhancing the opportunities for sports training and spectators’ immersion far beyond any expectations. It is realized that the integration of AI to VR for training simulations can present better information on player behaviors and strategy improvement. For instance, AI applications can use video content to recognize algorithm patterns and potential strategies of the rivals providing athletes as well as their coaches comprehensive instruments for preparation.

In the area of fan interactions, AI could create more effective and contextual AR uses. The use of AI in AR could enable content delivery that is custom to the user’s preferences and behavior hence delivering unique results. For example, consider what an AI system can do; it could take a fan’s previous behaviors and interests into consideration in order to recommend content to be delivered to the fan or the sort of engagement that is possible when the fan is in the vicinity of the event.

The development of new fields for training with virtual reality.

It is believed that as the technology of VR advances, there are more opportunities with sport training. At the current state, both, emerging and eSports could employ VR training platforms to provide the athletes with new forms of training. For example, in esports virtual reality can be used to rehearse for the different situations in a game or separate maps.

Further, it could also be applied for enacting various hazardous circumstances or environmental factors which are a lot hard to stage in real life. For example, the winter sports athletes could prepare themselves for any kind of climate by training them in a virtual environment and terrain.

Enhanced AR Capabilities

As for future developments, one can clearly see that augmented reality has a lot more in store for sports lovers and fans who would get to witness better and more exciting experiences ever in the sporting events they watch. Innovations on the side of AR hardware, for instance far lighter and thus even more comfortable AR glasses, could therefore thrust the technology into the mainstream. Improved AR could also extend the opportunity for a range of new interactive functions for example live fan participation or AR quiz in the course of a live event.

AR could also help in developing the new types of entertainment for fans like the virtual sports competitions or fans zone with AR walls and installations. These could present the fans with other opportunities to engage with and also complement the sports themselves hence adding value to the actual sporting experience.

Conclusion

AR and VR have been significant contributors to the changes that have occurred in the sports industry, especially among training and viewers. From using VR to design training environments to ensure that training is effective to the creation of personalized packages that fans can use to engage more with their favorite sporting disciplines, these technologies are bringing change in the training and even the way that fans enjoy sporting disciplines.

Thus, the further developments of AR and VR will undoubtedly reveal more and more additional possibilities for their usage in the sphere of sports, giving people more and more unusual and interesting ways of interacting with the given sphere. For the athletes it will help improve performance, and for the fans get a new level of immersion into sports and entertainment. The future looks even bleaker and brighter in that sense, which is why it is such a great time to be involved with TEAMS/SPORTS and technology.

[ivfcryo25]

Best Practices for Managing Equipment During IVF Clinic Moves

Best Practices for Managing Equipment During IVF Clinic Moves

1. Pre-Move Prep: Set the Stage, Save the Stress

If there’s one golden rule for moving an IVF clinic, it’s this: prep is everything.

Make an Equipment Inventory

Start with a full list of every piece of equipment in your lab. Not just the big-ticket stuff, everything. Incubators, microscopes, cryo tanks, air filters, even the backup power supplies.

Once that’s done, organize the list by:

Value (e.g. high-end microscopes need extra TLC)

Fragility (temperature-sensitive? Vibration-sensitive? Handle accordingly)

Priority (what needs to be up and running immediately?)

This list is your master guide through the chaos. Keep it updated as you go.

Assess the Condition

Do a quick health check on your equipment. Is anything showing signs of wear or due for calibration? 

You don’t want to set up a faulty incubator in a brand-new lab. Flag anything that might need repairs or replacement before it’s packed.

Organize Documentation

This includes manuals, calibration records, warranties, maintenance logs, compliance docs, anything and everything that might be needed when reinstalling or troubleshooting later.

Keep this paperwork together. You’ll thank yourself later when setting things back up.

2. Build the Right Team: You Can't DIY This One

Sorry, but your regular movers aren’t going to cut it. You need a team that knows what they’re doing when it comes to medical equipment.

Appoint a Move Coordinator

Designate someone (preferably with operations or clinical experience) to oversee the entire move. They’ll manage timelines, act as the go-to person for any issues, and make sure nothing important slips through the cracks.

Hire Specialized Medical Movers

Yes, they cost more. But they’re worth every penny. Look for movers who’ve relocated labs or IVF clinics before they’ll understand how to handle sensitive equipment, cryo storage, and biological materials without panic.

Start Your Relocation with Experts

Get the Right Packing Materials

Forget the bubble wrap and moving blankets. IVF equipment needs:

Custom crates with shock absorption for big equipment

Temperature-controlled containers for cryogenic tanks

Shockproof padding for fragile items

Clear labels for every single box- what’s inside, handling instructions, and destination room

This is where cutting corners leads to costly mistakes. Don’t skimp here.

3. Disassembly and Packing: Handle with Surgical Precision

With the planning done and team in place, it’s time to carefully take things apart and pack.

Disassemble the Right Way

Some machines like filtration units or large incubators will need to be partially or fully disassembled. Follow manufacturer instructions to the letter, and take photos as you go to make reassembly easier.

Label every part clearly. Bag up bolts, screws, cords everything and tag them so you’re not stuck playing “guess the socket” later.

Transporting Biological Samples

Embryos, eggs, sperm… this is the real VIP cargo. These need to be moved in cryogenic containers that maintain specific ultra-low temperatures. Make sure:

Containers are in top shape

Backup temperature control is available

You have live monitoring (if possible)

Everything is labeled with patient ID, date, and critical info

Samples should be packed based on urgency make the most time-sensitive ones the most accessible.

Label Like a Pro

Each item or box should say:

What it is (“Air filter unit,” not “Box #17”)

Handling instructions (“Fragile,” “Keep Upright,” “Temperature Sensitive”)

Where it goes in the new clinic

Unpacking gets a whole lot easier when the boxes tell you exactly what to do.

4. Transporting Safely: The Road Trip That Matters

The move itself is where a lot can go wrong if you’re not careful.

Keep It Cool

Cryo tanks and other temperature-sensitive devices must be transported in climate-controlled containers. If it holds living material, keep a real-time temperature tracker on it. You need to know immediately if there’s even the slightest deviation.

Load and Unload Gently

Nothing gets tossed, stacked, or dragged. Specialized movers should use cushioning, braces, and lift assists to load everything securely. Microscopes, lab analyzers, and incubators need soft rides.

Track Everything

Use GPS tracking for big equipment. For biological samples, add tracking plus temperature logs. It’s all about accountability. You want to know where your equipment is, how it’s doing, and when it arrives.

5. Setting Up in the New Space: Now the Real Work Begins

Congratulations, you made it to the new place. Now, time to get everything back in working order.

Reassemble with Care

Start with critical equipment and follow the disassembly notes and photos. Go slow. It’s not a race.

Calibrate Everything

Just because it powers on doesn’t mean it’s good to go. Run full calibrations on every lab device especially the ones that deal with embryo culture, temperature regulation, and imaging.

Optimize the Lab Layout

This is your chance to fix the little inefficiencies of the old space. Plan your layout for better workflow:

Easy access to power/gas/water

Logical equipment zones (prep, analysis, storage, etc.)

Safe pathways for moving samples and staff

Ask your lab team for input, they’re the ones who’ll be using the space daily.

Validate and Test

Don’t skip this. Run quality control checks and do sample runs. Validate that incubators hold stable temps, filters are working, and no devices were damaged in transit.

Only once everything passes should you resume full operations.

6. Post-Move Checks: Close the Loop

You’ve survived the move. But there’s still a little housekeeping to do.

Final Equipment Inspection

Go back through your inventory. Is everything present, accounted for, and fully functional? Flag any issues now, not three weeks into operation.

Ask Your Team What Worked (and What Didn’t)

Schedule a short debrief with your staff. What caused stress? What could’ve gone smoother? Capture those insights so your next move (if ever) is even more streamlined.

Update Maintenance Schedules

Adjust timelines based on the move. Maybe something got knocked out of sync or is due for post-move servicing. Get back on track with preventive care ASAP.

Wrapping It Up

Moving an IVF clinic isn’t just about logistics, it’s about trust. You’re relocating delicate machines, irreplaceable samples, and the heart of your patients’ hopes. Every decision matters.

But with the right prep, the right team, and a clear plan? 

You’ll not only move smoothly, you’ll come out even stronger on the other side.

Ready to relocate your IVF clinic?

With 40+ years of experience, IVFCryo’s expert team ensures a smooth, hassle-free transition. From transporting delicate equipment to securing biological samples, we handle every detail with precision, minimizing downtime and ensuring no disruption to patient care.

Trust our decades of experience to manage your move efficiently. Let’s get your IVF clinic up and running in your new space without a hitch. 

Contact our experts today!