#5 Best ironing board

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

[sinful-lanterns]

Cabernet defiantly loves giving head, like she is a God at eating pussy and she would definitely love it for us to sit on her face. This thought made me think of a scenario in the Uni Au where Cabernet asked us to sit on her face and after a bit coercement we agreed. She got so excited she rused to lay on her back and held out her hands to help us position ourselves. But when we came down we were doing that thing where girls hover over their partners head so that they wouldn't crush them with their full weight and this pissed Cabernet off.

"What are you doing?"

"Im doing what you asked?"

"No no, if you were doing what I asked you'd be sitting, not doing this hovering shit."

"I just dont want to crush your face and suffocate you-"

"And? Let me suffocate! Im a big girl, I can handle some smothering!"

This arguing went on for a bit and eventually Cabernet grew tired and too horny for our concerns that she just ended up looping her arms around and over our legs and pulled us down causing us to pit our full weight onto her face. Obviously we tried to lift ourselves back up but Cabernet was holding us down with an iron grip and pleasure she was giving us was starting to turn our legs to jelly so we couldn't hold ourselves back up again even if we wanted to. We obviously went into over stimulation so our body was naturally trying to jerk away but Cabernet kept us right were she wanted us with an iron and horny filled grip. The pleasure we were getting made us grab onto the back board of the bed for dear life and grip it even harder at each orgasm. And by the 5 th orgasm, the most powerful one we've had yet, we felt something slpash against our back. We looked back and it was Cabernet's semen that was coating our back. She was still ejaculating too as we looked back watching, seeing rope after rope of cum escaping her tip to hit against our skin. The best thing about this was that she didn't touch herself at all and she came A LOT. Cabernet found so much arousal and pleasure in stuffing her face into our cut and eating us like a man starved that she came without any stimulation to herself.

She just loves our pussy that much.

Hey. What have you done to me? You’ve completely changed my brain structure because Cabernet is my favorite PTN woman 😨

I have…I have no words. Just keep reading.

nsfw under the cut (men and minors dni)

The first time Cabernet asked you to sit on her face, you said no. That was the first time you ever said no to her request, and yet it was one she really wanted to do. Her eyebrows furrowed and she asked again, yet the answer was always the same.

“No Cabernet, I don’t want to hurt you with my weight.”

Poor Cabernet was ticked off that you’d ever think about hurting her with that delicious body of yours. If her body paid the price of having your mouthwatering pussy shoved up against her face, then it was a price worth paying for, as Cabernet was getting more ravenous by the minute. Every time you said no, Cabernet would get hungrier. Until eventually, while you were getting busy in the bedroom, Cabernet yanked your hand up to hover over her lying body, the both of you naked and sweaty from all your previous rounds.

“Sit on my face.” Cabernet asked— no, more like demanded. Her expression impatient and tongue flitting out for your juices.

“Cabernet, I don’t want to crush you—”

“I don’t care.”

Her voice was stern, almost annoyed that you’d hesitate this much before gripping your thighs with each manicured hand, and forcing you down to meet her mouth in a burning, passionate ecstasy.

Since when did Cabernet get so strong? You wondered this, as you gasped and tried desperately to stand for fear that you might be suffocating poor Cabernet. She was a delicate lady after all, so you should hurry and—

Goodness why was she so strong? Why was she gripping you so hard, you could barely move? Through your moans of blissful pleasure, you looked down to see Cabernet’s absolute blissed out expression. She looked delirious, eyes fluttering back in pleasure as she moaned through your folds and licked you up like a Michelin star meal that was worth hundreds.

She has never eaten you out like this before. Nails gripping the soft plush of your thighs, keeping you firmly sat on her face while she parts your walls with her tongue to reach that sweet spot she so desperately craved. The main star of the dish, the core of the apple, the feast that she had been starving for all this time.

The sweet, succulent juice of your orgasm.

Cabernet’s cock was practically swollen with arousal at the thought of it. Mind going numb while she ate you out in a drunken state. With every moan and whimper that left your lips, Cabernet countered with a grunt and growl of her throat. At the first gush of your first orgasm, Cabernet was practically moaning. The taste was so delightfully pleasant, the unique flavor of your body’s natural reaction to her and her alone. It was addicting, it was beautiful.

She craved more. More, more, more.

As you tried to get up, pussy overstimulated and puffy from her tongue, you whined when she suddenly pulled you back down for more.

“Another. Give me another.”

Was she pussydrunk? You couldn’t tell as the rough caresses of Cabernet’s eager tongue pulsed in and out of you with the eagerness of a starved man who had just been given a plate of food. You’re on the brink of teetering over the edge, unsure of how many times Cabernet had made you cum from just her tongue alone…

Four…five? You could almost pass out from bliss when you suddenly felt the hot shots of Cabernet’s cum shooting across your back. As you look back, you see just how erect and red Cabernet’s cock was. Tip all pink while it shot her hot seed all over your body, and making you clench from the sight, as you had no idea Cabernet was this turned on just by the taste of you.

She hadn’t even touched herself once. No strokes, no squeezes, only the pure ecstasy of eating you out was enough to get Cabernet oozing loads…

It’s safe to say that you’re no longer conscious of sitting on Cabernet’s face if she enjoys it this much 💘

[geekgirl750]

Random details I noticed in Scream after watching it for the umpteenth time.

First:

Stu has a dog?!

In the final confrontation scene in the kitchen before Stu brings out Sidney's dad I noticed that there was a note written on the white board behind him

Here it is in more detail, although the quality isn't the best as I had to screenshot the scene from YouTube:

When I paused to read it in the actual film I was able to make out most of the note except for the small writing in the upper right (Which I think is either a phone number or date) but I'm pretty sure the note reads:

"Hi Stu, Sorry we missed you today. We'll be back Sunday. Be good! Love mom & dad. P.S. feed the dog."

The last line I wasn't sure about because it was blurry but I matched the note from this shot to the shot where Stu is sitting at the desk on the telephone and sure enough the last line is "P.S. Feed the dog"

So basically, Stu canonically has a dog which I think is super funny because it makes me wonder where the dog was during the party and what type of dog it is.

It also makes more sense for the dog door in the garage that Tatum tries to crawl through to be put there for the Macher's family dog rather than the cat.

Side tangent head cannons:

The orange cat we see run out before Tatum is killed in the garage belongs to Stu's sister Leslie and has a basic name like Marmalade or Garfield

Stu is 100% a dog person and hates his sister's cat because its tried to scratch him on a number of occasions and now he's lowkey afraid of it

That's why when he's left home alone he doesn't really watch the cat and lets it do as it pleases. (His sister is adamant that the cat is indoor only but Stu is kinda careless lets the cat roam free outside through the dog door)

The Macher's family dog is either a basic crusty ass white dog that belongs to his mom and has a ridiculously fancy name like Princess or Dutchess

Or the dog is something small and hyperactive like a Jack Russell that Stu used to play fetch with and run around with in the backyard as a kid

Like I said before I feel like the Machers aren't super creative with naming their pets. If the dog is a boy his name is probably Max or something like that.

Okay second thing:

I never noticed this but you can see Randy dancing with/ flirting with a girl at the party when Sid and Tatum first walk in

And then later that girl is being led away by a different guy so I guess Randy struck out twice that night lol

(Also peep Stu and Tatum flirting/ kissing in the lower left)

Thirdly:

In the garage scene after Ghostface first cuts Tatum's arm she stumbles backwards and bangs into a bike

This is more of a head canon than anything but I noticed that the bike is more feminine in coloring (shades of red and purple) so it makes me wonder if it belongs to Stu's mom or maybe his sister.

Lastly,

The layout of Stu's house makes no sense!

So I'm going to make another longer post about this because I spent like an hour last night comparing shots from Scream 1996 to shots from Scream 5 to get an understanding of the Macher house because it's almost labyrinthian in it's layout, especially the upstairs, but I'm pretty sure there's no way that house has 3 bedrooms if Stu's sister is supposed to be canon.

Anyways, here are a couple details I noticed that I thought were interesting:

I think the house has an intercom system! You can seen what looks like speaker/receiver on the wall behind the lamp in Stu's room as Sidney runs by it.

Lastly,

The Macher house has a back stairwell!!!

So I've watched this movie a bunch of times and I always thought that there was a door in the kitchen that led directly to the garage but that's NOT TRUE!

When Tatum goes to get the beer for Stu you can see that the kitchen is connected to the dining room and off the dining room is a door that leads into a laundry room/ mud room.

To Tatum's right you can see what looks like an ironing board and then a set of railings/steps which I'm assuming is a back set of stairs that leads to the upper floor.

You can see again in the reverse shot that the door that gets locked behind Tatum isn't actually the kitchen door but the door to the laundry room in between the garage and the kitchen .

Seeing this changed my whole perception of Tatum's death scene because I was always like how did no one see Ghostface sneaking around the party, whether it was Billy or Stu, and not realize when he goes back inside after killing Tatum rather than leaving through the garage. Now I think it's because whoever was Ghostface never actually cut through the party at all.

HE WENT UP THE BACK STAIRS!

And the layout of the laundry room would have hidden him from view of the kitchen as he would have behind the wall and out of sight.

I want to go more into detail about the logistics about how I think Billy and Stu got around the house as Ghostface as well as the entire layout of the house in a second post because I think the set design is so interesting but for now these are just some cool things I noticed that I wanted to share.

[scriberat]

tagging @thydungeongal since you're the one who got me thinking on it.

the post regarding severity of HP and hits and depth of damage on the body in ttrpgs has got me thinking about airships again (what doesnt)

SO

on a watership, there are a few layers of differing severity for an attack to land on: below the waterline, above the waterline, the masts, and the powder room. here, ive outlined how immediately fucked you are based on what gets hit. - mast, whatever, steering is screwed (also goes for the rudder, youre not done for but your steering is.) the bottom part specifically is highlighted because thats the part most likely to hit the deck and deal additional damage when it does - above the waterline, way worse as that is a hole in the ship itself. structural integrity is down but overall, it's not the end of the world and you can limp without really limping until you get to port to fix it, and things might collapse from above but youre still in good shape - below the waterline is... obvious. while it can be patched, someone has to be there to do so within a few minutes or youre going to sink where you are, and the larger the hole, the less time you have. a badly wounded ship means fewer fighters as you need to dedicate the bodies to fix the issue before everyone goes under - powder room. if you've got cannons you have a powder room which means an entire central spot full of explosives <3 one hit here and you're looking at a catastrophic event. best case scenario, you lose half the ship in a kaboom.

now, of course, not a lot of people are going to be aiming for the powder room, as a captured ship is a solid 40k in your pocket, 20k after repairs, and since most crews dont even number a hundred, thats a hefty sum in your pocket post-sale, or you can increase your own sea strength for higher payloads along the way. worth it to box the crew and save the boat.

airships, on the other hand, seem to have that in reverse, in which the hull itself is mostly expendable as long as you have the mode of locomotion and standing room. the integrity of an airship comes down to how it floats and how it propels. traditionally on that front, there are balloon types and sail types with engines. - with balloons, popping that balloon will result in the entire airship sinking. the balloon is "below the waterline." - with a sail-and-engine, the engine is akin to the powder room, a OHKO spot

THEREFORE

to roll this well, the dice master in question would need to roll a die per cannon. if the ship being attacked takes up 10 squares and you have 5 cannons, each cannon would have a chance of dealing damage. the cannonballs should be able to pierce about 50 feet, so the closer you are the further the cannonball can go. then you have to consider if the cannons are on the gunwhales or gundeck for the elevation, and the further they are away, the more likely theyll hit the next layer down, though the power is also reduced.

rambly

nat 20 roll on the cannon that's facing the powder room will cause an explosion. anything less won't as it's difficult to ignite powder with a lump of iron.

so basically: roll for each cannon involved, calculate based on map distance, account for any armor that the ship may have (plate the sides), and you can make the ships themselves into players in a battle, and each table player can handle a part of it, from steering to loading and firing, etc.

grappling and boarding are also a part of this, but i havent gotten to that yet. itd shrink the focus lens from the ships (environmental) to the decks (stage) though

[avissapiens]

How to be a Bull Ch 7: Work

((FINALLY got to this one. Sorry yall.)) (Model is Elton Mota)

A prejudiced view might find it strange to see a Bull at such lofty heights in the corporate ladder. The uninitiated would see their size and assume that they have nothing to offer but eye-candy.

But our market research has shown that a large percentage of bulls actually thrive in high-achieving positions. Advertising, PR, R&D. Skilled professionals from doctors and lawyers to esteemed academics often get bit by the bull bug.

There is a clear set of transferable skills acquired when you spend your non-working hours totally gym obsessed. Discipline, Patience, Self-direction. Being able to work yourself, withstand the strain of constant progressive overload and always come back the next day ready for more.

Couple that with the bull lifestyle being more expensive than one would expect; with tons of protein, supplements and something’s extra. With specially tailored apparel because normal stores can’t contain your bulk any longer. With hyper-exclusive gym memberships and competition fee’s because that unending lust for growth requires constant improvement of facilities and community who shares your addiction.

The end result for the company is a driven, growth obsessed highly skilled worker who excels in handling large, well defined projects well ahead of the deadline because they know their muscle is at stake if they don’t.

*insert abyssal chanting*

Elton is the go-to guy for those big accounts at the Avis Athletics Agency. The look of absolute focus and fire in his eyes is sometimes frightening. Total dedication given to both sides of his life. They synthesize so naturally for him. It's like he puts every muscle and sinew into his work, and lets his work fuel every inch of growth. 

The gym at Agency HQ is state of the art, an obvious requirement given our team. But for Elton it basically functions as a secondary office space. On the phone talking with clients while he reps out a new PB on company time. He says his mind works best and is clearest when pumping iron. That pure euphoria of the mind-muscle connection truly boosting his performance through the roof. It’s such a potent addiction that when the gym was closed for maintenance for a month, the CFO offered to let Elton use his private suite just to keep his numbers high.

Company meetings with Elton are likewise a key to his productivity. The tight business attire straining around his form does end up distracting and reducing the overall work done by anyone else in the room, yes. But something about the attention drives our highest earning bull into a frenzy. Like his own personal audience. Intimately aware of how he outsizes every single man in the room. Going through the plan for an acquisition or a partnership deal that’ll PUMP PUMP PUMP the stock prices through the roof. Unconsciously flexing every time he gestures for a prop, veins visible beneath the sheer fabric of his dress shirt. Excitement palpable in the air as sweat trickles down that massive back, the fabric of his slacks starting to tighten even more. The rest of the boardroom doesn’t even need to speak. They know he’s got it.

In one wild 9-5 he gets the project that was slated to take 2 weeks on the CEO’s desk. Without a word he packed up and headed straight to the gym to unleash all that pent up energy. The CEO made a mental note to schedule more board meetings with Elton, and to make sure that his Holiday bonus was more than enough to ensure he came back from vacation 20lbs of pure muscle heavier 

To find resources to help embody your Bull Journey you can check out the Bull Archetype guide on my Patreon for free .If you’d like to support the creation of files like the one in this story, or you’d like access to exclusive files and files earlier than the rest of the world, then please, Support me on Patreon, And go and follow me on Youtube for more files. Also, be sure to join me and my community on Discord. 

[frogasaurusrex39]

unreliable narrorator Y/n doing a school project on the Thorn General or whatever they called him

The Amazing Biography of The Valley's Loyal General (With pictures!!) Written by Y/N!

[!!REQUESTS OPEN!! Characters: {Y/N}(Written first person), Grim(Briefly), Mozus Trein, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia, Gargoyle, Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech(Briefly) Word Count:1,342 Warnings/Spoilers: ooc-ness (since the narrator is *unreliable*), A joke about emo stereotypes (Not all emos follow the stereotypes and I don't mean any harm by it. Shoutout to all my emos reading this) Also somehow no spoilers Extra: Y/N stands for Your Name, E/C stands for eye color

It was a gloomy morning in Homeroom, my classmates sluggish, the desks on fire, Grim hungry, demons rising from portals, my air pods dead, oh it was absolutely dreadful! I was about to die!

However...Trein-Sensei's words sparked life in my dull {E/C} eyes. A massive homework assignment!! Now I hate homework, especially big projects, but this one was amazing! A biography on any historical figure from the Valley Of Thorns War back in the day. He wrote down the list of people available on the board, but I already knew who I wanted. The mysterious Right General of Briar Valley (Pretend it's sparkly I lost my glitter pen) Not the Queens, not the Left General, not the legendary Man of Iron (or was it steel?) The Right General! He was so intriguing. How was he so known yet such an enigma? I was going to find out. But I had competition. Lilia also wanted to do his project on the General. I couldn't let him snag this opportunity from me. I played it civil when I first heard of his plans. I humbly asked to take the General for my essay, but he refused! I am an amazing charmer, and I tried working my magic, but he just wouldn't budge! So I had no other choice....I challenged him to A DUEL!! (DUNDUNDUN!!) We met at the courtyard in the afternoon. I came ready to fight. I wouldn't let this weirdo beat me. (Before you come at me, he literally picks his nose, THAT'S WEIRD!!) I had my sword and my legendary gear which I got from my Great Grandfather. He said I was destined for something big, and this was it! Lilia had his own gear he must have gotten from his housewarden or something, but it couldn't top mine. Everyone came out to watch our duel. We both unsheathed our blades and charged at each other. The crowd cheered my name (I'm a famous warrior of course it's expected)! We dueled fought with all our might, but...he had defeated me! I laid on the ground, beaten and bruised. I looked up at my opponent, who roared laughing. It lasted for what felt like eternity. (It was only like a few seconds but for dramatic effect Sensei!!) "This means The General is mine." He eventually spoke. I glared up at him. How could I lose to an old man? (No offense I know you're old too) One who's...Emo? (No offense to emos!!) He must've had his teen angst and rock music powers stored up to trash me. Bested by someone who wears 5 pounds of eyeshadow everyday...blech. I didn't speak... I couldn't... I was embarrassed in front of the whole school.... He laughed again.... No! I couldn't let this twink beat me!! (Don't google what twink means). I kicked him in his balls and rained victorious! He begged for mercy, and I gave it to him. (I can make any man beg, especially the stupid kind)

So, the Right General Of Briar Valley was mine!! And I already knew where I could get my first bit of information...A source no stupid nose picker had... Malleus Draconia! (Or as I like to call him, Tsunotaoru [Hornton]) (Okay yes now I notice Lilia literally is his bestiepoo (or something.) But still!! For dramatic effect!!) According to my math he must've met the General at least once in his life. He's the heir to the thrown throne after all. The General is still alive both had the time to interact. 18 years to! (I think Tsunibuni [Horntonwornton](pronounce it with o) is that age) So it was perfect!! I set up an interview in the library. He was willing to answer my questions.

He answered all of them!! It was perfect!! I told you Tsunibuni [Horntonwornton] would be of use!! Though it did take some persuasion... "Where'd you hide the body?" I queried. "I'm not telling you that." He protested. "Are you sure? What if I.....Hurt your precious gargoyles" I said as I picked up a massive gargoyle and held my legendary sword to it's throat. It looked at Mallypoo with tears in it's eyes. "Y-you wouldn't..." He stuttered. "A-ANYTHING BUT THAT!!" (I told you I can make any man beg) "Oh I would." I smirked and brought the dagger closer. "Poor little gargoy won't make it out of this alive." "NO! FINE, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW!! BUT PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT HURTING MY PRECIOUS POOKIEWOOKIEBEAR!! MY SWEETHEART!! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!" Of course, he didn't have the answer to everything, so I did have to hit the books. I hit them with a stick. It wasn't effective. Don't know why. Maybe I did it wrong? Or did I have to use something other than a stick? Oh well... My last option... GOOGLE!! But I was running short on time and the Wi-Fi was down...so I had to contact a good ol pal of mine. The first real Android...

Ortho Shroud.

I called Ortho up and raced out the door. He answered right away but there was one problem... He was busy getting Idia out of bed. He was sad about some sort of gambling game. So I made my lil broski a deal. I'd wake his brother up and he'd let me use his search engine. So I ran to Ignyhyde!! Once I got there he was waiting outside for me. He quickly thanked me and took me to Idia's room. (It was so messy, and it smelled like unwashed shut in, it was disgusting) But I was determined to help him out!

I tried everything! Shaking him, screaming, promising him ice cream, nothing! He was a stubborn fire boy. So, I had one option left... Water. So, I really didn't think this through, but I guess his fire hair goes out so.... I MADE HIM BALD

That was not what I wanted to do! I swear! He was mortified! I know I'd be too if I lost all my hair... I didn't know what to do! I panicked!! But luckily, I figured out what to do with the help of Ortho. However...It involved Idia leaving his room... Which was hard to do. So, I did the same thing to Idia as I did Malleus. "Come with us or-... Hatsune Miku gets it!" "NO! ANYTNING BUT HATSUNE MIKU!" It was a piece of cake.

One hoodie later and we rushed to the one place where all our problems could be solved. Mostro Lounge. Azul's known to grant people wishes. Once we got inside Jade led us to a table, but we had to order drinks before Azul would see us. Of course we did, they have an awesome Mostro Lounge x Mystery Shack drink. Idia said they needed a ship name. I don't know what he meant, no boats were involved. After getting our drinks eventually we were allowed to see Azul. Ortho reassured his brother as we entered the octopus's office. Now I know what you're thinking... He's a sketchy man and it'll be hard to get his hair back for a fair price. So, how'd we get out of this without anemones on our head? Well, I don't know. I had to finish writing this paper before tomorrow and I didn't have time to sit and do business deals. Therefore, I left them. (Don't judge me!! This was a big assignment!) So how did I get the information I needed? Well... I read the books. That's a way better method then hitting them. Learned that the hard way...And hours later I had all the information I needed to write the essay! The end

"{Y/N}.... The assignment was a 5 paragraph essay on a historical figure. That's not what this is." Trein said as he slid the paper back over to me. "WHAT?! BUT THIS IS QUALITY CONTENT! IT'S ENTERTAINING!" I shouted back. "Half of this stuff didn't even happen." "Well, dramatic effects!!" "Redo this." "Hmph... Fine."

WOW, WILD RIDE!! YOU MADE IT TOO THE END THO!! I LOVE THIS Y/N CREATURE I MIGHT MAKE AN OC OUT OF THEM ONE DAY!! That's for the future tho rn I gotta add tags and post this. Comments appreciated My requests are open Thanks for reading Byebye!!

[palmtreesx3]

Act 1 - Foreplay

Aphrodisiac (Robin's Chapter)

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Summary: (6.8K) The pair are settling in at The Hideout but not without some bumps in the road, and are exploring the city and sampling a bit of all that it has to offer. Steve is trying hard to find things that he likes to do and he's totally baffled to see Robin so effortlessly spreading her wings. Robin's got a date. A real legitimate, public date and she quickly gets fixated. Meanwhile Steve's got another lonely evening by himself. The pair - well maybe just Robin - gets in the mood in this Robin-centric installment of Act 1. 

Warnings: it's a sex shop and generally just NSFW so 18+. Sex toys and self-exploration, female masturbation, shop talk, fluffy affection, LGBTQ acceptance (which isn't much of a warning, it's a goddamn right), self-loathing, mild depression and *you* make your first appearance.

Almost-July, 1993

What Robin failed to consider when wagering a digital pet bet with Steve Harrington is that this boy was born and raised competitive. She forgot that in the Harrington household "lose" wasn't in their vocabulary. She also forgot just how forgetful she is. Ironic. So it should have been no surprise that in the last 24 hours, her Tamagotchi has been sick three times and was always beeping incessantly. 

"Rob, you're a horrible mother. You're gonna owe me 5 drinks before we even get our first paycheck." Steve gloats, tucking his healthy, happy, bouncing pet into his pocket before sitting down to lace up his sneakers. 

Meanwhile, Robin who is shoving her feet unceremoniously into her Chucks ignores the shit talking and dishes out some of her own. "Dude, we have to do something about this." She kicks her chin in his direction as he smooths out his clothes. 

"What?" Steve snaps back.

"I can't believe you still dress like that. Honestly. 1984 called, they want their Sears Catalog back." 

"Ok Robin, sorry I didn't know you also got a job as the fuckin fashion police."

"I'm just saying, small town Indiana polo fashion ain't gonna cut it in the big city, boy. You wanna keep bagging hotties like you did the other weekend, we'll have to do something. You don't have to dress for mommy anymore." And as she says the last bit she immediately winces "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean … "

"No it's okay, Rob. I know what you're trying to say. Maybe. Maybe once we have some extra money I'll get something new. You can help me. Deal?"

After a few weeks of exploring, Robin and Steve have zeroed in on quite a few of their own places. A bench they prefer in the nearby park, nestled in the shade of a swaying willow tree; a greasy corner store that sells the best breakfasts to sop up what's left of an evening out; an arcade that makes them nostalgic and think of the kids at home and gives them something to talk about when they call; and this place - a nice little coffee shop tucked in between towering complexes and quaint stores just one block over from their place. There are always records playing of the baristas favorite bands, the coffee is good and strong and cheap and they're always open when they need it. 

Steve and Robin have gone to the coffee shop almost daily since they found it. But this time Robin was out on an errand herself so she popped in on her own to grab two cups to-go and bring back to the apartment, where Steve, no doubt, was still sleeping. Perusing the wall of records in rotation while she waits for her order, Robin is startled by a quiet voice beside her, whispering closer in her ear than she's used to from a stranger. "This week it's good stuff, huh? I'm loving The Smashing Pumpkins new one." the voice says. 

Robin's eyes dart to her left and quickly back up to the wall of vinyls, the stranger's proximity and attention making her squirm just a bit. "My last .. girlfriend. She was into all the pop stuff. Not really my vibe, ya know." And at that, Robin's eyes rise to meet the womans who is standing next to her. There's not much that can actually shut Robin Buckley up, but here's a few: a really fuckin' beautiful girl, eye contact and someone casually talking about their sexuality. It was the perfect storm. 

Robin bit her plump, pink lips and nodded at the stranger, feeling a little ridiculous at the interaction so far. What is she supposed to say? Do I ask her about her ex- GIRLFRIEND? Do people really talk that openly here in the city? I don't even know her name! Robin's voice may be silent but her brain is going a mile a minute.

"Alex." The stranger says. Just as the barista shouts Robin! Your order is up! in the background. 

As Robin reaches across the counter for the two steaming cups, Alex counters "And I'm assuming you, are in fact Robin." with a grin. "No boyfriend today?" She says, and as Robin's eyes twist in confusion, she pipes up again "No no, I'm sorry, I'm not being weird I swear. I just come here a lot and I've seen you guys. Nothing freaky I promise."

"No." Is all Robin awkwardly says, totally deadpan. 

Alex waits for more, but nothing comes. After a moment she chuckles, picking up her own cup of tea and raising it to her lips to take a sip, but not before whispering out "No, what?" in a question. 

"Ha. No. No he's not my boyfriend." Robin says as she plays with the hem of her denim cutoff shorts. 

"Ah, too bad. He's a hottie." Alex shrugs and Robin stands confused. It's happening before she knows it started and Robin's dumpster fire of a brain starts rambling. 

"Wait. What? No he's not my boyfriend he's my roommate and yeah we come here, we're still kinda new in town. We're actually from a small town - Hawkins - but what… I'm sorry I thought you said your ex-girlfriend liked pop music so… "

"Yeah. That's what I said." Alex takes another nonchalant sip of her steaming mug. 

" So .. but Steve. He's… " Robin stutters out. 

"Well he is hot isn't he?" The woman counters. 

"I mean, yeah I guess. He has no trouble with the ladies if that's what you mean. Always Mr god-damned Popular cause he has perfect fuckin' hair but I swear they should see him in the morning, it's not all rainbows and butterflies then!" and the words just keep spouting out of her mouth uncontrollably. 

Alex looks on at her, almost endearingly, as she lets her go and spit it all out. "You done?" She asks. 

Robin nods, mutters an apology for her rambling and starts to head towards the door "I should go. Nice to meet you, Alex."

She shuffles her steps quickly in an attempt to bolt as far away as she can from the pretty girl who she just made a fool of herself in front of. God, I'm gonna have to tell Steve we need to find a new coffee place. Shit. 

"Wait! Wait, sorry. I can be intense." Alex muses, kicking her feet at the chair next to where they stand, before looking back at Robin's flushing face. "Yes, I did say ex-girlfriend. I also said your whatever he is is hot. I'm not stalking you, I just must get my tea when you guys get your coffee and, I hope I don't make you totally run off in terror when I say this next part, but I'm gonna anyway - I have just been distracted by you guys. I thought you were both pretty hot and I was distracted by the coffee shop couple every time I'm here. You were solo today so I thought I'd break the ice. Sorry. I hope I'm not making this weird "

Robin's mouth is absolutely hanging open right now. 

"Yeah, so the tables turned pretty quickly and I'm thinking I'm the one that should be embarrassed right now so, hopefully I see hot coffee shop couple around and I didn't totally scare you away from this place. " 

"Oh God, no. The coffee is too good and too cheap for us to stop coming here. He's not my boyfriend. Steve is 100% my roommate and that's it, no coffee shop couple here. Yeah, he's hot but don't you ever tell him that. Christ, he doesn't need a bigger ego. And the last time I talked to a girl like you I think I peed my pants, so excuse me I'm going to go hurl myself off the Willis Tower, if that's okay with you?"

Alex lets out a deep laugh. A genuine one. She reaches out to touch Robin's forearm, to keep her there… or ground her, she's not sure which. "Please don't. I can't have you falling if it's not for me." and at that Robin's eyes go wide as saucers. "Are you free tomorrow? Maybe we could get dinner? Downtown. Meet here so it's not weird and sketchy first…that is, if your hot roommate doesn't mind I borrow you for a bit?"

She's stunned. Robin has never been asked out on a date before. Is this a date? Holy shit.

She musters up every ounce of courage she has to smile and nod. "I get off work at 6, so can we make it 7?" Only to be interrupted in that moment by the shrill chirping on her keychain signifying yet another dead digital pet. 

A wide, sparkling smile spreads on Alex's face as she starts to head out the door, turning back to shout out "7:00, meet you here. Can't wait! "

And as soon as the bell on the door dings and she's sure it's shut, her brain starts catching up and Robin drops both cups of coffee on the floor. 

Today, Murray is not entertained by Steve. Usually the banter between the pair has remained humorous and for the most part, friendly. Today Steve is just pissing him off. 

First Steve dropped an entire shipping box of condoms, spilling single wrapped rubbers all over the floor. It took him an hour and twenty three minutes and three side-eyeing customers stepping over him to clean them all up. Then Steve knocked over the mannequins like dominoes after he struggled with the BDSM display Murray assigned to him for the second part of their shift. Robin snickered as Murray delegated the task to Steve, knowing damn well it was just to make the boy suffer. Robin watched gleefully, sitting at the register, resting her chin in her hand as Steve grumbled through the entire task. At one point, he was fumbling so much with all of the straps and buckles and ties that before he knew it the head of the mannequin he was attempting to gag toppled off its shoulders and knocked three other mannequins down in its wake. All Steve could do in response was throw the ball gag to the side as he stormed off, yelling back "Tell that asshole I took my 15! I'll deal with the bondage when I get back!" 

As he marches off in anger, Murray does in fact slide over and lean down next to Robin. "How's Casanova doing? BDSM not his thing, I see?" He chuckles. Robin cocks a sideways grin at him shaking her head. "He doesn't even know what his thing is, Murray. He's just a lost little puppy."

"What about you, Red. You doing good?"

"Yeah, yeah I am. I think he's stressed because he's not really finding his thing. He's used to things coming easy for him and they're just… not here."

"What does Mr Hometown Heroes' emotional journey have to do with how you're doing, huh?"

"A lot, actually. He's absolutely a bumbling fucking idiot, but he is the kindest person I've ever known. He has a weird way of showing it, but that's because his parents are Grade A assholes. He's been more supportive to me than anyone on this planet and I am trying so hard to help him but I don't know how." 

"Well, Red, this is a journey of lifelong self-discovery. Ya gotta learn to love thyself before you can love another. That goes for both of you, ya know?" and with that, he pushes off the glass countertop and saunters back to his office while humming an indistinguishable tune. 

When Steve returns from his break Robin recognizes the look on his face. It's the one that comes back ready with his head in the game after an excruciatingly awkward pep talk he gave himself - out loud. If anything, all those years of organized sports at least gave him a method to get himself back on track. 

That's why it was so abysmal to watch as he confidently tried to help a young customer, flowing brunette hair curled and brushed out into bouncy ringlets, asking in a tiny voice behind batting eyes to be pointed in the direction of the Ben Wa. 

"Oh yeah, I got you covered on this! Haven't been here long and I never heard of those before our manager got one for us and just the other day I stopped in at this place that looked interesting… "

The customer's eyes narrow, not sure where Steve is going with this conversation just as Murray joins in next to Robin to watch the drama unfold. He brought popcorn this time and was audibly chomping on it with an open mouth behind a gaping smile. "I gotta see where he's going with this." Tilting the bag towards Robin in an offering as they watch. 

"Yeah, so if you just go down the block a few more streets you'll see a place on the corner. It actually says Ben Wa on the window, so you will definitely see it when you get there. I was surprised at how much I liked it!" Steve says to the miffed young lady as she is heading for the door. "Have a great day! Enjoy!" Steve yells after her.

"What the hell man! Where'd you send the good paying customer!" Murray outstretched his arm towards the door before reaching into his bag to throw a kernel of popcorn right square into Steve's forehead. 

"What the fuck, Murray. She wanted to know where to get a fuckin sandwich. Last time I checked we don't sell sandwiches!" He yells as he spins his outstretched arms from left to right, showing off the wares inside the shop. 

"A sandwich? You fuckin' small town nincompoop, no! Ben Wa. Ben Wa balls. She wanted to put 'em up her coochie you idiot!"

Beet red from holding back, Robin finally lets out a cackle that fills the entire store. "Oh my God, someone get me a white board! You gotta be shitting me. This is better than watching him sink at Scoops, hands down."

"Wa-what are you talking about? Ben Wa - like the sandwich from that Korean place? You got it for us for lunch three days ago!"

"Oh for the love of God. You're pretty but you're dumb. BAHN MI. Say it with me BAAHHHN MEEEE" he overemphasized.

"I-i… well.. what… what the fuck man! I don't know!" 

Meanwhile, Robin is on the floor with tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. 

After Robin gets her shit together and Steve returns to his normal shade of sun kissed peach, ever the educator, Murray fills the pair in on what the customer was actually looking for. Pulling them over to a display case in the rear, a menagerie of colorful metallic, glass and silicone balls are laid out for viewing. All the sizes as big as or smaller than an egg, Murray explains both their practical use as well as how they can be used for pleasure. 

"See some ladies come looking for these after they have a baby, nothing to do with getting off… for now at least … everything to do with tightening things back up again. Just a run of the mill afternoon at the vaginal gym shesh." Steve grimaces as the analogy but nods in understanding. "Girls …or guys - might use them to stretch themselves out a bit and train their holes." Robin looks on, fully engaged and taking all the information in earnest. "They have little weights inside though, so if you're wearing them for a while or they're jostling around there's a whole lotta movement in there if you know what I mean. A few tugs on those strings and you got yourself a party." 

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch, but gnawing at the back of Robin's mind are a bright red pair of Ben Wa balls from the display case, round and smooth and silicone, shaped like two cherries on a lime green stem. She's never owned a toy before, and she's feeling kind of intrigued, so while Steve is in the employee room gathering his things and clocking out, Robin seizes the opportunity to pull the toy from the case and ring it up quickly. She rings up the amount, and hastily keys in her employee discount before slipping them into her satchel just before Steve returns to the floor. 

Robin has increasingly spent her free time idling around town and making her own discoveries. She finds herself often at a community park enjoying some local outdoor music that pops up regularly on the weekends and has stumbled upon a vintage bookshop a few doors down from the coffee place that she has made a comfortable home in their reading nook a few days a week while also making fast friends with the laid back cashier there on the weekends. 

Meanwhile Steve has failed at any attempt to casually find something he likes to do on his own and, as evident today at work, there's something that's got him stressed and Robin thinks this is it. He tried to join her at the community park, but he has yet to get into any of the music they're playing and he joined her once at the bookstore when she excitedly wanted to share her big find with her friend, but he just didn't get the hype after sitting there thumbing through a book he had no interest in actually reading. The apartment doesn't have any cable, and there's only so much coffee shop and Tamagotchi a guy pushing 30 can handle. Needless to say, city life isn't coming as naturally for Steve as it is for Robin and that is throwing him for an absolute loop. 

After a long talk on the fire escape over a cigarette, Robin actually had some wise insight into Steve's problem. "Dude, it's because you don't have any hobbies! Tell me one thing you've ever done because you chose to do it?"

"Robs, I played sports for years! Of course I have hobbies!" 

"No. That's not what I mean. Who signed you up for those? Who made sure you made the varsity team your first year? Who told you to run laps? Do you still play them now? Just cause you convinced yourself you liked it, doesn't mean you actually did."

And that resonated with Steve. He thought about why he actually liked all the baseball, all the nights on the basketball court and all the swim meets - it wasn't because he actually liked the sports, he liked how it made him feel to win. For his dad to give a shit every once in a while. For his teammates to need him. So Steve stayed up late that night, gazing at the stars on that fire escape and thinking long and hard about how he has spent his time - team sports that his dad got him into that eventually made himself feel useful, dialing up radio stations that played music he heard at other people's parties and cassette tapes of other people's favorite songs in his glove compartment, cooking meals that he has to or else he wouldn't be fed. 

The only damn thing he ever chose to do himself was watch out for those godforsaken kids back home and even through all his griping about them, it was always worth it. But driving a bunch of preteens around doesn't constitute an interest. "Fuck man, I don't even know myself." He muses into the late night sky, taking one last long drag before closing the window behind himself and idling off to bed. 

The next day, the two had a late start at The Hideout, and Robin threw her satchel over her shoulder while yelling out to Steve "Dingus, I'm going out to the bookshop for a bit. Need anything while I'm out?" 

"Nah Robs, I'm good."

"Kay - don't miss me while I'm out and you're home sulking!" She pokes, and the door clicks shut behind her leaving him in the quiet. Steve reaches for the radio and as he dials the station over to filter out the static and he's immediately back to thinking about last night. Why am I even putting on this station? I don't even think I like these songs, do I? He thinks to himself. So Steve sets out that morning to try and figure something out about himself. 

Inspired by the records displayed every week at the coffee shop, Steve finds himself fingering through bins of Vinyls at a record shop he found as he walked about the neighborhood. "Anything we can help you with, man?" the employee asks as he approaches. 

" Uh yeah. Actually I think…I mean, I think I want to get some records."

" Oh bud, happy to help! What are you into and what kind of player do you have?"

Steve stares at the man, stubble on his jawline, in a fitted yellow Queen T Shirt that looks worn and soft coupled with his ripped denim. A man that looks like he knows what he likes. Steve's stare is blank and he's absolutely at a loss. "I'm sorry, I have no idea. I should go."

"My brother, music is for everyone. Let me hook you up and we'll figure it out. No need to stress."

The man spends the next hour showing Steve how to use a basic model record player. They try out a few different vinyls to see what he might like. After a while, the pair have a stack piled up next to the record player - Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Tears for Fears, Red Hot Chili Peppers and a few others littered with popular music and rock artists he didn't really know by name before - and Steve is checking out. 

As he's getting ready to hand over a stack of cash to the man that helped him discover what kind of music he likes, they're interrupted by a deep hum, "Now that's a nice stack you got there." Steve turns around and is a little taken aback by what he sees. It's you…and you're standing there all casual and comfortable, looking very at ease in the record shop. "Hey Brian. What's up?" You nod in the kind man's direction.

"Hey hot stuff, I got what you came for back here. Just let me finish up with this guy and I'll get you taken care of. "

"Hi" Steve waves in your direction. "I'm sorry." No one quite sure what he's actually apologizing for in the least.

"No need to be sorry, you were here first. I just came to pick up the new Pearl Jam record and I am in absolutely no rush."

"Pearl Jam?" Steve questions. 

"Yeah man. Eddie Vedder? You might actually like it, all things considered." The man named Brian motions to the eclectic stack Steve has accumulated during his visit. 

Looking back at you standing there, not impatiently, just smiling brighter than the sun, he mutters "Yeah cool. Yeah I mean, if you have another can I add that? I'll give it a try."

And as Steve loads up his wares in his arms and turns to leave, your charismatic smile finds him one last time, " I hope you like it… ." You draw out waiting for him to fill in the blank. 

"Steve." He finishes for you.

You nod, "I hope you like it, Steve"

The next night at the apartment, Robin is gearing up for her date and she is absolutely in her head about it. She has asked Steve one hundred times today if he's sure this is a date. "But Stevie's she .. I really think she might just want to hang out and be friends." 

"Robin, I swear to Christ if you don't just STOP this." Steve sucks in a clipped breath before continuing on. "It's a date. I'm one hundred percent sure this girl asked you on a date and you're going. Relax, please! Fuck, you're stressing me out and I have nothing to do with any of this!" Steve shouts for the last time tonight, leaving Robin in the bathroom doorway, staring at herself in the mirror trying to make herself presentable.

Through the damp hair falling into her vision and the steam still speckling on the mirror after her shower, the girl is trying desperately to hype herself up and get ready to spend time with Alex. But Robin is not a confident creature. She's starting to feel herself crawl back inside the cave forged deep in her personality and carved into the bedrock of Hawkins, Indiana. "I gotta fuckin' snap out of this." She says to her reflection, splashing water on her face and retreating back to her bedroom. 

She hears the new and welcome sound of vinyl scratching from Steve's bedroom, before the reverberation of Fleetwood Mac's The Chain blares loudly through the walls. She sighs, sitting there still wrapped in her towel from after her shower, mind wandering to Alex and her tall, thin frame. Still not sure how a girl like that was referring to her as the hot one, Robin's thoughts drift to the deep black of the woman's mascara, fanning her eyelashes out and emphasizing her deep green eyes. She thinks about how she was too much of a spaz to appreciate the curve of her cupid's bow and she's still not sure if she was imagining the softness of the swell of her hips or not. 

Mixed up in thought, Robin's forearms graze the front of her towel and the rough material scratches at her exposed nipples underneath. She lets out a wispy gasp, not realizing just how turned on she was until that second. Her mind is racing. She looks at the clock and sees she has 20 minutes until she needs to head downstairs to the shop to meet Alex. Immediately she eyes her bedside table, knowing those deep red, cherry Ben Wa balls are sitting just inside. She thinks about what Murray has been saying and all of his preaching about “loving thyself before you can love another, Red!" and with one last racing thought of the woman who actually wants to take her on a date… out in public, she's clamoring for the drawer. 

She has never been more grateful that Steve has picked up a new interest, and that it was a loud one, because as she lets the towel draping her body loosen while she's leaning back into her soft cotton pillowcases she lets out a soft whimper before she's even touched herself once. Robin tentatively lets her soft hands and glossy nails trace the outline of her slit, delicately rubbing and pressing on where she needs it most and experimentally flicking the hood of her clit. After considering things one last time, she purses her eyes closed tight and holds her breath as she guides one of the cherry balls inside her opening. 

The gasp that leaves her throat this time isn't soft and quiet and she finds herself gyrating and writhing as she rubs and tugs at the cherry stems attached to her toy. The weights inside are rolling and undulating just like Murray said they would, sending vibrations up and back down her body. Robin feels filthy, thinking about Alex as she uses her free hand to rub at her clit while still pressing in and tugging at the ball with her other, but not filthy enough to deny how much she is enjoying this game she is playing with herself. 

Robin's eyes are rolled back in her head as her orgasm rushes over her, the weights of the ball continuing to move and rattle inside coax her through her comedown. Thighs shaking and breath stuttering, she lets out a deep sigh "Holy fuckin' shit. I love my job." 

Fumbling and running late after her little self-love session, Robin bounds through the doors of the coffee shop a little dramatically. As part of her grand entrance, she knocks her hip into the chair of the two-top situated right inside the entryway and doubles over at the pain. "Shit." She means to whisper, but instead says at a volume loud enough to reach the back of the shop, and if the entrance alone didn't alert Alex to her arrival, she certainly would have heard that.  

The barista greets Robin cheerfully by name just as Alex walks up to greet her with her hand outstretched, coffee cup there as an offering to break the ice. "I thought you might need a pick me up after work. She hooked me up with your usual order, so… "

Robin feels her freckles burn at the gesture, like they do after a day at the lake in the sun. She catches Alex's eyes scanning her body and she feels her chest flush, no doubt accentuated by the emerald green satin tank that's cut a bit lower than she usually ventures. The deep color making her hair, her eyes and her fair skin pop, covered by a cropped denim jacket DIY frayed at the edges has definitely caught her date's eye. 

"I wanted to pop into this Gallery I really love, if you don't mind indulging my creative side tonight? It's a great spot and… there's a graphic artist showing there now I just gotta check out before it's gone. It's this amazing social commentary on pregnancy as a lesbian. Like a totally butch lesbian decides to get pregnant with her partner, so what now? It's just… I gotta see it. The diversity at this place is phenomenal."

Robin's wide eyes are not white in astonishment this time, but instead they're with pure intrigue and reverence. Knowing that not only are there people like her in this city, but enough people that feel the same or respect it enough to go to an art gallery to check out doodles about a pregnant butch lesbian and it's not the butt of a homophobic joke is… enthralling to her. She nods vehemently "Hell yeah, that sounds…  really amazing. I mean… I'm not used to that kind of transparency, so, yeah. Let's do it."

And as they turn to leave the shop, coffee and tea in respective hands, Robin feels the tickle of a finger brushing her open palm. Barely registering what is happening, she finds herself in a brief yet unnecessary panic as she feels Alex's hand settle in, intertwined with hers. She can't help but scan her surroundings for passerby oggling the two women holding hands and walking down the sidewalk, but she saw not one the whole walk down the block to the train platform. The thrill of holding a pretty lady's hand out in public is sending tingles up her spine, or maybe it's the gentle, internal humming of the Ben Wa balls she opted to keep inside for the evening, but Robin could definitely get used to this. She smirks at herself as they ascend the steps towards the incoming train and asks curiously,"So tell me, what's this artist's name?

Meanwhile, Robin just missed Steve on the same platform not 10 minutes earlier. Shortly after Robin finally headed out, Steve found himself standing in the kitchen staring at a barren refrigerator - nothing more than a carton of milk, some OJ and a row of eggs left in there for him to choose from. He tries not to be irritated at his current situation, but he can't help the groan he lets out as he reaches for the phone, readying himself to order way too much pizza for one lonely guy on his couch late at night. 

Before he finishes dialing he shakes his head, thinking about how he doesn't have to keep himself cooped up here. He has done so much on his own, but all of that was such a… necessity. Is it really that crazy to go off and do something alone without it being totally pitiful? "I mean, Robin goes places by herself all the time." He muses to himself. 

So that's how he found himself hopping off the train downtown and wandering into the first restaurant that looked reasonable and …  good. Not just food but something he might actually enjoy tasting. It's a quaint Italian place. Authentic, by the looks of it. Walls lined with corked bottles of olive oil and limoncello, twinkle lights strewn over the white lattice work ceiling, the unmistakable smell of carbohydrates and garlic. 

This is yet another something he hasn’t ever done before. Not just a quick bite or a fast food, but instead going out to a proper restaurant and sitting down for a real meal. Solo. Alone. Alone but NOT lonely, he thinks. In the past 24 hours since Robin pointed out that he never does anything for himself that he enjoys, he has done a lot of introspection and has made it a point to seek out new experiences hoping something will stick. Sitting at the cozy little restaurant place downtown adorned with faux plants, and filled with tables of other guests, he finds himself so grateful to have Robin’s perspective and support. So instead of worrying about how he's not sharing the table with a date, or Robin or anyone else for that matter, he's toasting to her, in absentia.  

On the other side of town, Robin and Alex find themselves tucked into a booth at a dimly lit, definitely more trendy than she’s ever experienced before in her life, kind of bar. Alex has the table filled with an assortment of bites to eat and has ordered up all of the bartender's signature drinks on a mission to get Robin to broaden her horizons and shake that small town dust off of her coattails. “Ok, so, we have to find something here that you’re into. You can’t just tell me warm beer or straight shots are your drinks of choice - every city girl’s gotta have their go-to cocktail.” 

Robin first confidently grabs at the Manhattan from the selections laid out in front of hrr, recognizing the deep amber of the liquid and the familiar smell of whiskey that reminds her of Steve. It is quickly after she brings it to her lips that she sputters it back out, spraying the cocktail over her hand and most likely, her date. Alex says nothing about it, eyeing the ruby red blush on Robin’s cheeks and chest, but she stifles a small laugh before she says “Got it. No whiskey cocktails. Check. Here, here…cleanse your palate.” She says, handing her a small plate filled with creamy green, roasted artichokes splayed out like a lotus flower. “They’re the best in the city. Stuffed artichokes - ya know? They’re my favorite. Doesn’t hurt that they’re an aphrodisiac, huh?”

And if Robin hadn’t already spit out that whiskey drink, she definitely would have at that. So bold. So brazen. Dumbfounded that even at how blatant Alex has been with her flirting all night, it didn’t prepare her for that comment and the implications it held behind her eyes. And when Robin didn’t move to immediately grab a bite, Alex instead responded by picking up a delicate stuffed petal and holding it out to Robin’s pillowy lips, urging her to open up. She tentatively parted those lips and took a bite, wide-eyed at the flavor and simultaneously at the way Alex’s eyes remained locked on hers. 

Before the end of the date, Robin had successfully spilled a cup of water, knocked over the salt shaker and tried sips of 6 different cocktails before she settled in with a bright orange and red drink in a highball glass, lips wrapped around the straw and playing with the stem of the cherry hanging over the side of her glass. “This one is definitely a winner.” She grins, as she turns to look at Alex, excited to have found something that she likes while simultaneously excited that she finds she doesn’t really care that she did no less than 10 embarrassing things on this date anymore. She doesn’t feel embarrassed in the least and that is still a pretty new feeling for her.

“Why am I not surprised? I should have known.” Alex laughs out.

Robin shrugs, a questioning look in her eye as she sucks down the last of the drink, rattling the ice as the straw drains the cup of the last of it, loud enough to turn a head in the booth next to theirs when she forgets she’s someplace a certain level of chic that Hawkins must repel just by its sheer podunk nature.

Alex leans in close, right next to Robin’s ear to whisper, but makes sure she pulls back just as quickly to watch the flush spread over her freckled face like she knew it would “I should have known you’d like Sex on the Beach.” Sealed with a wink. 

And with that, the ice wasn’t the only thing rattling anymore, as Robin is keenly reminded as she feels the shudder travel up and down her spine that she chose to keep those Ben Wa balls.

"And she said what to you? Oh yeah, your date wants to get in your pants. For SURE.” Steve said as the cool edge of a frosted mug hit his tongue. It was a long day at The Hideout and they barely had time to shoot the shit between odd jobs and a colorful group of customers, and Robin got in so late last night that he didn’t even get to grill her about her date when she rolled in. Disregard the fact that Steve was tucked soundly in his bed after a nice warm belly full of pasta and red wines (who knew, he liked red wine? He sure didn’t). After such a long day, and the bet hanging in the air, the pair stumbled upon a local dive bar on their walk home and that’s where they find themselves now - unwinding and finding themselves totally relaxed in the warm, dimly lit and unceremonious Benny’s Taproom.

“God, Steve, I don’t want to talk about it!”

“What do you mean, you don’t want to talk about it? You owe me three drinks and you’ve gotta spill your guts, Robbie.” 

“Ahhh, I don’t want to hear about the bet, Steve! I’ve been a little distracted. My keychain has been the least of my worries, genius.”

“Excuses, excuses.” he winks, the beer tasting even better knowing it was his prize for caring for his tamagotchi much better than his friends, just as he suspected. Robin cycled through three whole pets so far, while Steve’s has grown into a thriving, young thing and he gloats about it every moment he can. “Now, spill it. I need to know the details about your date, Robin. Stop avoiding this.”

As they sit there arguing over digital pets and sharing (or avoiding) stories of their night prior, a gravely ahem comes from over the bar as the gruff, stone faced and bearded man behind it places his hands wide on the counter in front of the two friends. “If you’re in my bar, drinking my drinks, then you gotta share, missy. This place is boring lately, and you guys are fresh meat, so please…entertain us with your stories. I gotta live for something around here.” he sternly says to the two, before he smiles wide and says “If you’re here, you’re family, so listen to your friend and give us the scoop, for God sakes!” 

Robin tells them about her first date - about all of the coy flirting, about all of the embarrassing things that didn’t feel so terribly embarrassing in front of her date, about all of the appetizers and cocktail tastings, about the menu items spread out on their table with double entendres and that Alex kept ordering things she kept referring to as Aphrodisiacs “I swear I thought aphrodisiac was another word for Oysters, and then I thought that it meant something sexual just because … oysters. They’re like…ya know.” as she blinks her eyes downwards to her lap.

“Oh honey, he is into you.” Jim breathes out as he adjusts to lean back against the sink with his arms crossed.

Maybe it was Robin’s tight-lipped smile in response to that, or maybe it was how Steve gargled his last sip of beer right back into the mug before setting it down on the ratty old, stained coaster on the bar, but Jim’s eyes flitted between the pair looking for the information he must certainly be missing. 

“Ah!” He claps his hands together as he takes Steve’s mug, swirls it around eyeing the backwash, throws it in the sink and fetches another one. He immediately moves over to the tap to refill it while noting “Alex…. He’s a she…isn’t she?” 

Jim leans over the bar, braced on his elbows and spends the next twenty minutes telling her that she's just had a taste of what the city has to offer. .. a taste of dating. A taste of Alex. And if she's feeling like that - if one taste is making her feel so so good, it's worth embracing it and diving right in.

TAGLIST: @livsters @katie-tibo @johnricharddeacy @angywritesstuff @k-k0129 @tisthedamnseason69 @middle-of-the-earth @thebrazilianatheist  @mochminnie @micheledawn1975 @falling-throughthe-hourglass @rafaaoli @ash5monster01 @gabessock @onyxslayss

The artist referenced in this Chapter is A.K. Summers who did, in fact host an exhibit at a Chicago Gallery in 1993. See her work Pregnant Butch here

[forgetmenautical]

sorry I need to be annoying for a second

so we’ve all seen this image? right? yeah? Okay. I know this one image is all we have to go off of right now but let me be insane for a second ok? ok

First of all. There are multiple people here. There’s the guy in the foreground, whoever’s behind mark, and mark himself. Mark has said that he’s starring so my immediate assumption was that the other people are convicts aboard the submarine. Looking at it for ANY longer though, my second thought is that these people are helping him Board the submarine. Seeing the white light behind the person in the back, that HAS to be another room, either that or the internal structure of the submarine has gone under some serious reconstruction, bc we never see a light bright enough in the submarine in-game that could emit that much glow. So the submarine hasn’t been submerged yet at this point.

This is a HUGE deal. It means that Eden or the C.O.I. are actively spending EXTREMELY valuable resources to set up bases on the moons—or at least AT-5—for what I’m assuming is the sole purpose of sending submarines into the blood oceans. I don’t remember specifically but it’s stated in-game that at the very least they (either Eden or the C.O.I., but it could go for both seeing how starved for resources the universe is after the quiet rapture) only have enough resources to build 3, maybe 4 more submarines. Submarines that they almost exclusively send convicts in to explore the blood oceans, and even when they thought they’d gathered enough data through the first 7, SM-8—the first submarine that was actually created with the intent of Returning—went fucking horribly! It was torn to shreds at the bottom of the ocean! And no one fucking bats an eye! And they continued to do it!

speaking of, this might not even take place On the SM-13. We don’t even know if this is taking place on AT-5. Whoever mark plays could be either post or prior to the events of the game, or even what happened in-game disregarded almost entirely. It’s super interesting. Judging from the trailer and screenshot though, we definitely make the assumption that it is a convict submarine, seeing as the SM-8 was more decked out with actual materials and gear required to do proper research within the blood ocean, and the submarine we see in the trailer is almost exactly like the one in-game. My best guess is that it takes place shortly after the events of the SM-13, so it can tie back to the game.

Anyway, back to my first point. The lack of resources. They still have a lot of convicts, and they can only build a limited number of submarines, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually packed multiple convicts into a single submarine under the guise of efficiency. Or even then maybe Expanding a bit upon the submarine(s) itself, seeing as they can only make so many more—they Need to make them count. It can no longer be an easy one-and-done execution with the hopes of getting something out of it.

I’m also super curious about why they’re not harvesting the blood itself from the moons, seeing as it’s a literal OCEAN of Human Blood. That’s full of iron an oxygen—an entire ocean full of rich red liquid iron and oxygen! That solves so many problems for them, and there’s multiple blood oceans on different moons, so there’s a chance that both the C.O.I. and Eden get full access to them. Do they just not have the materials they need to extract it or like…what? Is the bloods anomalous properties effecting their ability to harvest it since it’s somehow maintaining a liquid form despite the fact it For Sure shouldn’t be able to do that? What the fuck?

Anyway this is all from my memory. I didn’t re-check anything so I could be completely wrong about everything but Who cares. I needed get that out of my brain. Please add on to this I need to talk about iron lung

[super-ion]

Ion & Emily - Best Friends

(Just a little bridging chapter between "How It All Started" and "Unexpected Company")

“She kissed you!?”

Sarah is literally bouncing with excitement while I blush and try not to make a bashful little grin.

It's weird. I'm still not exactly sure how it happened. She kind of adopted me and we just sorta platonically clicked.

I am now best friends with Lady Lacuna.

(Pause here for inner fangirl screaming - seriously though, she's super cool and we hang out all the time in each other's lairs)

“Oh my god! Jen has a girlfriend!”

“Technically Ion has a girlfriend… well, I don't actually know, it's not exactly official. The whole kidnapping thing is kinda weird for genuine conversations.”

I ponder this for a bit before letting out a frustrated sigh and peer back at the circuit board I'm working on for her.

“I… I don't want Ion to be the only side of me she sees. Like I want to spend time with her as Jen. You know?”

Sarah flops back on the sofa next to the bench where I'm working.

“Then ask her out. You two text all the time, she's obviously into you. Text her right now and ask her.”

“Yeah, but what about the whole secret identity thing?”

“Eh,” she says with a dramatic shrug. “That's half the fun. Honestly, I'd be surprised if she hasn't figured it out already.”

I frown and chew my lip.

“Text her. Right now. Get on your phone and ask her out as Jen.”

“It's not that easy,” I protest.

“It totally is.”

“But-”

With a wave of her hand a tiny portal opens up over the workbench and she snatches my phone.

“Hey!” I shout, fumbling with the soldering iron as I scramble to get to the couch where she is now cackling maniacally and tapping away.

“Dear Emily,” she says. “I think you're really hot and we should get married.”

“What?? No! Give me that!”

I tackle her and somehow manage to wrestle the phone out of her grip. It's not as bad as what she just said, but she's still texted Emily. “

Me, 5:21pm

Hey, are you busy Friday night?

“Oh, you are evil,” I growl.

“Duh, I'm a super villain,” she replies with a wicked grin.

I look at my phone and watch three little dots dancing on the screen. Emily is typing a response. I grip my phone with both hands, watching as the dots dance in and out of existence as she composes a reply. Sarah sits next to me, craning her neck to watch the screen and grinning expectantly.

We both wait with bated breath. Finally (finally!) the phone pings.

Emily, 5:23pm

Nope! Anything in particular you want to do? :)

Oh god… she signed it with a smiley face. This is happening.

“What… what do I want to do??” I ask with a wide eyed beseeching look to Sarah.

“Ambient music cocktail hour at the modern art museum.”

I blink at her in surprise.

“That's a thing?"

“Yeah, totally,” she says. “A girl I dated last year was super into that sort of stuff. I think you'd like it.”

I do a quick search and yes, it is in fact a thing that happens on the second Friday of each month. Huh…

I take a fortifying breath and tap out a response.

A few seconds later:

Emily, 5:31

Oh! That sounds awesome! I'll pick you up at 6?

“Yes!” Sarah whoops and pulls me into a tight hug. “When you get married, you have to make me the maid of honor!”

I smirk as I extract myself from the couch to finally finish the upgrades to her boots.

“Enough about me,” I grumble. “How did your date last night go?”

“Uuuugh,” she says, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “It was awful. He kept trying to mansplain quantum physics to me. Like I totally don't have a PhD in high energy particle dynamics. Seriously, I'm swearing off men forever.”

“Didn't you swear off men forever last month?”

She scrunches up her face and glares at me.

“Yeah, but I mean it this time.”

“Uh-huh…”

I watch her as she sulkily pulls out her phone.

“Have you ever thought about dating another super?”

She frowns and looks at me with a questioning glance.

“I mean… you're always complaining about everyone you date. Maybe you need someone who can meet you on your level?”

An expression flickers on her face, something I've rarely seen, a strange sort of uncertainty and vulnerability. It's gone in a moment and she cracks a smile.

“Relationships between villains can be prickly,” she says. “You remember when Reverb and Osprey leveled half the fashion district? Lovers quarrel.”

Yeah, that brawl was a whole entire thing. I guess I can see how strong villain personalities might cause some issues.

“Unless you mean I should date a hero?” she says with a strained laugh. “Wouldn't that be a hoot?”

Okay, there is definitely some history there, but I'm not going to poke at it.

Instead, I turn my attention back to the boots and slip the circuit board into the heel before running some diagnostics. The heels aren't like stilletos or anything, they're decently sturdy, but still, they've gotta be at least 4 inches.

“How do you even fight in these?” I ask.

“Practice,” she says, not looking up from her phone. “After beating childhood cancer and getting a PhD at 19, learning how to run and fight in heels seemed like the next logical life goal.”

“I could never,” I muse “I'd probably break my ankle in five minutes.”

“Skill issue,” she replies.

I gasp indignantly and she gives me a wink and a cheeky smile. She's not wrong. I mean, I probably could if I really wanted to. But I didn't really want to. I'm tall enough without heels.

“Well…” I say, “they're calibrating now. The updated control loop should boost performance and help you stick more landings.”

“You're the best!” she says, bounding to her feet to examine my work.

“Hey, you wanna rob a jewelry store or something?” I ask.

She narrows her eyes at me.

“You're trying to get out of training aren't you?”

“Yeah…” I admit, hunching my shoulders.

“Jen…” she sighs. “I watched your last fight. You keep missing bunny boy’s right hook. You're going to keep missing it if you don't practice.”

“Nobody told me being a super villain would be so much work,” I grumble.

But I'm already sullenly climbing to my feet and unzipping my sweatshirt as we head to the fighting pit.

Oh, I think I forgot to mention, I'm in Lady Lacuna’s evil lair, which totally used to be Doctor Magma’s evil lair. We're walking past all sorts of diabolical apparatus, like a whole entire mad science laboratory. It is the absolute coolest shit you can imagine. Like imagine the coolest evil lair of evil, now double the coolness of that. That's about where I am when I come to visit this place.

So here I am, about to enter the fighting pit with my best friend where she will proceed to kick my ass for an hour. Not gunna lie, it's actually a really good workout by itself. Even if I still get knocked around by Jackrabbit's right hook, I'm still in the best shape of my life.

I still can't believe how much my life has changed since I got powers. I love what I do and I have more money than I know what to do with. I have a best friend now. I (Ion) have a girlfriend (probably). I (Jen) have a date with that same girl on Friday.

Yeah, life's pretty good.

I feel like I'm ready for anything life has to throw at me.

[sineala]

Hi!! I used to be big into superhusbands till about the whole international iron man by bendis (i abandoned there..Tony was too different)... I was wondering, do you recommend current marvel comics? Are they still ridiculously interrupted by crossing over and events?

I am actually really, really enjoying current Marvel comics! I also think now is a pretty good time to hop on board.

If you want specific recs, I have lots of them.

Current comics:

We just got a brand-new Avengers run -- issue #2 just came out this week -- and although Steve isn't on the team (Sam is), Tony is there, and Carol is the team chair. Many of us, myself included, have been really looking forward to this run, because it's being written by Jed MacKay, who is a relatively new writer to Marvel who in my opinion writes comics with very well-characterized characters and a lot of love for the source material. (He is also currently writing what has now become my favorite Doctor Strange run.)

MacKay especially writes a very good Tony; he did an Iron Man annual and an Avengers annual back in 2021 (part of the "Infinite Destinies" series of annuals. The Iron Man one had some very good Tony characterization, and the Avengers annual instantly became everyone's favorite because about half of it is Steve and Tony hanging out at home together, and the other half is Steve and Tony punching robots.

So there's not really a whole lot to say about the new Avengers run yet, but I am excited for it.

(Jason Aaron recently ended a five-year Avengers run. I would recommend skipping it, except for the issue where Steve, Tony, and Thor all go skinny-dipping together in a hot tub. It is the highlight of the run.)

We are seven issues into a new Iron Man run, being written by Gerry Duggan (whom you may remember from 1872), and I swear this is the best Iron Man ongoing comic that has come out since I have been in this fandom. Every issue is actually good, and he's absolutely nailing the Tony characterization, and he's clearly done all the reading. And also Tony is getting whumped hard. I really love it. Every time we get a new issue I am excited to read it because I know it's gonna be good.

(You have missed a couple of Iron Man runs. The Dan Slott run was not all that great, but it had some very sweet canon Tony/Jan and also very pretty art by Valerio Schiti. Then we got Christopher Cantwell's Iron Man run, which was the worst Iron Man run I have ever read in my entire life and featured Tony being a privileged and out-of-touch billionaire asshole who then got addicted to morphine, acquired the Power Cosmic, murdered most of his friends (and, I mean, brought them back, at least), and then decided that he should maybe go to rehab so that he could learn humility which apparently he did not have? My least favorite moment was the bit where Patsy Walker tells him he has no idea what it's like to be suicidal and Tony -- a person who has had at least two on-panel suicide attempts -- agrees that, no, he has no idea what that's like. Anyway. You should skip that.)

I have been kind of meh about the current Cap run (other than the fact that it appears to have given us canon Steve/Emma femdom) because a whole lot of it is basically "CATWS but what if 616" and also they killed off one of my minor-character faves and I am very bitter. There is one more issue left in this run, so you might as well just wait a couple more months and start with the next run, which will be written by J. Michael Straczynski. I know a lot of people have strong feelings about JMS' comics work but I have been a Babylon 5 fan since it started airing and I am excited that JMS, the guy who gave us the "no, you move" speech, is going to be writing Steve. (JMS also wrote Bullet Points, if you liked the Steve in that one.)

(Cap runs you have missed include Ta-Nehisi Coates -- it was fine but for the most part Steve was wildly OOC -- as well as a very short run by Mark Waid whose first arc you should check out because it was absolutely amazing and had great Samnee art. I think you've also missed Nick Spencer's run, which. Uh. I don't even know where to begin with discussing that.)

Recent events:

Comics are still going to be comics, so, yeah, there are always events. Some of them are pretty good, though. If you haven't been here for a few years, you've probably missed AXE Judgment Day, Heroes Reborn, Empyre, and War of the Realms. Possibly also Secret Empire, Civil War II, and Standoff.

Of all of these, I would have to say that AXE Judgment Day (written by Kieron Gillen) was my favorite; it featured the Avengers, X-Men, and Eternals all coming together to save the world from a Celestial that was trying to judge all of humanity and then destroy the planet. You know, the usual. I thought it was pretty well done and had a lot for Steve and Tony to do. They got to be on the same side, for once. Steve got a whole bunch of speeches and everyone got a massive amount of angst; there was actually an entire issue devoted to the Celestial's judgment of Tony. So yeah, it didn't have a whole lot of Steve & Tony together but they both definitely had starring roles for the event.

Heroes Reborn (yes, it would kill Marvel to think up a new name) was an event where Phil Coulson sold his soul to the devil to make the Squadron Supreme have always been the best superhero team on Earth. Coulson has been wedged into the comics from the MCU but Jason Aaron clearly committed hard to making him the most evil person possible.

Empyre -- by Slott and Ewing, art by Schiti -- was probably my second-favorite recent event. It once again featured heroes fighting villains, as is right and proper. Steve and Tony weren't the stars of the event or anything but they did, you know, get to help out a bit. It was a bunch of Kree-Skrull stuff and everyone fought some tree people whose names I am blanking on and it also ended in Billy and Teddy's Big Gay Jewish Space Wedding, so obviously you have to appreciate that.

I remember very little about War of the Realms. It was one of those Asgard things.

You probably missed Secret Empire? And possibly the lead-ins to it, Avengers Standoff and Civil War II. This was infamously the event where Steve was replaced by an evil Hydra version of himself who decided to make America into his own personal fascist state. (Standoff was the event where he was secretly replaced although we did not know this at the time; he spent all of Civil War II -- a Carol vs. Tony event, this time with Tony ending up in a coma at the end -- gaslighting all the heroes pretty hard.) Public reaction to Secret Empire was, as you can imagine, very very bad (they decided to promote this as "this is the real Steve and he has been evil forever" rather than, like, "hey we're doing a villain AU for the next six months") and they ended up concluding the whole thing much faster than they had originally planned to, presumably because the sales tanked hard. They basically did a very, very bad job with this one.

Secret Empire has mostly provided a lot of source material for fandom to pick apart and improve upon -- especially the people who like villain AUs -- and its major highlight is a lead-in one-shot, Civil War II: The Oath, which is a villain remix of The Confession in which Hydra Steve addresses Tony's comatose body and, among other things, tells him that the real Steve loved him, and that he always loved him, even when they fought. So, you know. We all enjoyed that page.

Other fun things you might have missed:

There have been a bunch of fun relatively-recent miniseries!

The thing you will probably be most interested is Captain America/Iron Man, which is a five-issue miniseries by Derek Landy of Steve and Tony teaming up to take down a villain (who is, of course, one of Tony's exes). It has some lovely character moments. The collected edition of this is called "The Armor and the Shield."

Jed MacKay -- yes, the guy writing Avengers -- also previously wrote a run of Black Cat that had a lot of Tony cameos, and then decided to write an Iron Cat miniseries in which Felicia & Tony team up to defeat both of their ex-girlfriends who have decided to try to murder them because apparently, yes, they both have terrible luck with relationships. (In Tony's case, this is Sunset Bain.)

We're also currently getting an Ayodele & Akande miniseries, I Am Iron Man, which is set at various points in Tony's history and I have to admit that I have literally no idea what's going on here but at least it's clear that they really like Tony, and it's sweet.

In what I can only assume was an attempt at some kind of MCU synergy, we just finished getting a second Secret Invasion miniseries (written by Ryan North of Squirrel Girl fame) which was an extremely clever series in which basically nothing was as it seemed, and also Tony was one of the major characters. I really, really liked this one.

If you like weird AUs, we also recently got a (Tom Taylor, I think?) miniseries called Dark Ages, in an alternate future where electricity has stopped working. It did have Steve and Tony.

It is not specifically Steve & Tony related but we just got a Wasp miniseries by Al Ewing, which is Jan's first solo book ever. Yes, ever.

And it has nothing to do with Steve and Tony at all, but I feel like people who don't ordinarily read Guardians of the Galaxy might really enjoy Ewing's run on that, because it is incredibly queer. Phyla-Vell and Moondragon are main characters, Billy and Teddy come guest-star for a lot of it, Avril Kincaid (the new Quasar, who is also gay) is there for a bit, and also the overarching relationship plot is "Peter, Gamora, and Rich decide they all love each other and are all going to be in a relationship." This is extremely heavily implied. There are multiple love confessions and the run ends with them embracing. So yeah, Pete/Rich is canon now. It's great.

That's all I can think of for right now.

[bomberqueen17]

Matcha Top Sewalong #5

Done! All I need to do is hem it.

But. For sewing-alonging-purposes here's the last day of work on it. And once I've hemmed it I need to like. Measure it and then make my decisions about what adjustments to transfer back to the paper pattern for my final draft. Because of course my buzzy brain wants to immediately move on to a new shiny thing (we're gonna make leggings next) but the actual smart thing to do is to make this over again in a fair copy in really nice fabric. (In a drastically adjusted size.) Because I do like it.

So anyway, the breakdown:

So I think when we'd last left off, I'd decided I needed to unpick the shoulder detail and gather several inches of excess shoulder seam length under it. So I did that; I cut off a couple of inches of the faux-epaulette, and then put gathering threads along the seam and pulled those taut, pinned it down, and re-sewed it.

[image description: Blue fabric under the presser foot of an old sewing machine, with a stiffened piece of black fabric with embroidery on it lying over the top. I'm pulling on two thick white threads with my fingers, pulling the gathers tight prior to pinning the placket down and then distributing the gathers with my fingertips as I sew over them. Yeah I'm not a big fan of a thousand pins.]

Remember the whole point of this was that as the pattern isn't properly scaled, it was assuming that me having huge tits also meant my shoulders were vastly broad. And they're not. But I didn't want to cut off excess fabric because that would alter the shape of the armscye (that's the curved seam on the body of a shirt into which a sleeve is set, or that forms the sleeve opening in a sleeveless garment, and it's pronounced arm-sigh, for any of y'all who haven't done a lot of sewing youtubing yet lol)-- setting a sleeve head into an armscye is an exercise in patience and wizardry at the best of times, attempting to alter either one is likely to result in jankety disaster.

As it happens, this pattern already has you gather excess bodice width into the collar, to give its distinctive shaping. It turns out that gathering excess shoulder width under the faux-epaulette also looks baller as fuck, so I'm going to take that into consideration as I cut my next draft out.

So next was setting in the sleeves:

[image description: on a flowered ironing board, the blue fabric is sitting with the curved armscye carefully laid flat and the top of the sleeve head pinned to the top of the armscye curve. On top of all that, my perfect angel clingy cat is sitting on the garment with her tail curved right into my working space.]

The sleeves went on pretty easily-- I get why they have you do it before the collar but honestly it didn't matter that I did them after-- and then the last step was to sew up the side seams, which was so easy I didn't even pin it anywhere, I just matched up the underarm seams and pulled the seams straight either side of it, got the seam allowance to lay right, and then sewed it in one go.

Now for the try-on.

[iimage description: a mirror selfie of me in a large drapey blue garment with my arm held out to one side. The sleeve extends to my wrist, touching the back of my hand.]

These sleeves are supposed to be elbow-length but again, the scaling up in all directions equally does not take into account the fact that I do not have tits on my elbows nor are my arms plus-length. It's pretty safe to say I could cut a size 14 of this garment all around and still have plenty of ease. I measured, and have cut off six inches from these sleeves to hem them.

[image description: me half-turned wearing the drapey blue garment, showing the V-neck detail, the shoulder pleating (though the lighting isn't ideal to show it off, sorry), and the length of the sleeves. The background is partly blurred by the phone's Portrait setting, but not entirely; it is my mother-out-law's bedroom because she has a huge mirrored closet door. By my leg, my cat is sitting with her tail touching me because she was so clingy yesterday, and the silhouette of her ear looks like something's wrong with my calf.]

There's a lot of ease in this, which I get is the design of it; I am actually torn about sizing down at all. I might not! I love that it's so swingy.

As far as the length, IDK. I left two extra inches on the bodice panels for hemming, I always wind up with my hems uneven and I wanted to leave room to not have to cut it shorter than I wanted. The last smock I made is SO short in the back because i'd fucked up the cutting and there was one divot at a hem that couldn't be evened out any longer, and i'd meant it to be wearable as a solo layer but thanks to this i have to wear it over other layers, ugh. So. Anyway. IDK. it's hard to tell the length because depending where you set the collar on your shoulders it can vary so much. Next version should probably have a smaller size of the collar and shoulder details for sure.

[image description: a closer-up mirror selfie in bad yellow lighting of the shoulder detail and upper sleeve of the garment]

But the detail of gathering the bodice sleeve under the shoulder detail does look good, I do like it. So I'm going to do that again in my next draft. I'm just deciding-- do I size down overall, and then slash-and-spread to put width back in to gather up here? or do I just size down overall and figure there'll still be plenty of width?

I just have to decide. Either way, the shoulder detail needs to both be narrower and thinner, smaller every direction, and also I feel like the interfacing is actually too stiff. I might just interline it with fabric for the next version, I can't decide.

In the meantime, I'm going to hem this garment with the shortened sleeves and I think I will actually wear it a fair bit, it's comfortable and reasonably cute. Might shorten the overall hem too, need to decide on that.

Either way I need to write down my adjustments and probably make myself cut out the next version before I forget, and before I move on to the next thing, which as I said, is leggings, and I'm excited to work on those lol.

[allthingskakashi]

• Another Time, Another Chance •

[Kakashi x Reader] || 5k

Based on the Fluff prompt: "You have something in your hair... Do you want me to get it out?"

A/n: i received the request for this in 2020,started writing it in 2021 and finished it now at the end of 2022 so this fic has made a very long arduous journey before appearing on your feed today. This is needlessly long (5??? K??? Words???) bc im physically incapable of writing shorter fics. Been super out of touch so i hope this doesn't read like a drag, ending seems a bit rushed to me but i needed to be stopped from adding any more words. thanks so much for reading!!<3

********

You had been dreading this day all week.

Ever since the invitation arrived in your mail, you’d been wrecking your mind, trying to think of excuses— something, anything, to get out of the dreadful misery this day was about to present. Any possibilities of a sudden ankle fracture or an unexpected call to duty, however, were put to rest when you ran into your dear friend, the childhood bosom bud you’d recently reunited with after ten years, on your run to the grocery store this morning— who demanded—well, warned, really— that you “better fucking show up” to what was going to be one of the most important nights of her life.

So there you were now, standing in front of your closet which was filled mostly in hues of blue or black, and rolls of what people refer to as “practical clothing”, looking for that one peach-colored dress you had stuffed at the back somewhere after the last time you wore it— the one that your mother had given you many moons ago on your birthday.

If you had known that you would be coerced into attending an engagement party not five days after your return to your village, you’d have delayed your return. But fact of the matter remained that Kurenai was indeed your best friend, and if your being there mattered to her that much, then perhaps you could push your own feelings—and by that you meant your general detest towards weddings and anything involving matters of the heart (Shinobi don’t show their emotions, that’s rule one) aside.  Well, that and the fact that she threatened to hunt you down if you deigned to not show up.

But it’ll be fine, you told yourself. You would go, congratulate the happy couple, smile and nod at the people who approach you, have a round of drinks and appetizers, and slip out as soon as the crowd thickens. All in all, it shouldn’t take more than one, one and a half hours tops. You could do one and a half hours. It’d be fine.

 Forty minutes and heaps of wrinkled clothes scattered all over your floor later, you finally managed to find the dress you were looking for. It’d need ironing and there was a stain in the front, but it could be covered up with the silver butterfly pendant you had. A quick glance at the mirror informed you that the load of laundry you were about to do would have to wait until tomorrow. Your hair was greasy, and you needed to do something about the bags under your eyes.

And of course, a present. You needed to get a present. This truly was turning out to be a massive pain in the ass.

...................................................................................

 With the towel wrapped around your hair, you laid your dress out on the ironing board. You must have been eighteen when you last wore it but thankfully, it still fit. It was a beautiful piece— the fanciest piece of clothing you owned, no doubt, with a sweetheart neckline and lace detailing at the back.

Seeing the dress after so long did open a floodgate of memories…

It had been one week since your sixteenth birthday.

You had just passed your jounin exams.

You could still recall how the air felt that day, grain to grain in your mind. You were elated, you’d worked so, so hard for months. And finally, it had paid off. Anything seemed possible that day. The sky was the colour of water, the sun had never shone brighter. Everything was possible.

Even confessing your emotions of deep adoration to the boy you’d admired all through your young years.

It’s now or never, you’d told yourself. You’d never feel as courageous as you did that day. It was the perfect time.

And so, you’d put on your best dress, picked some daisies from your backyard, and strode off to where you knew you’d find him—the boy whose name cluttered the last pages of every notebook of yours, the one who starred in each of your daydreams— Kakashi Hatake.

You’d found him climbing a tree in the forest, a piece of cloth tied over his eyes and another tying his hands to his back. Chakra control practice.

You still remembered the tremor of your voice and the gigantic gulp you’d taken before uttering the next words. “Kakashi, would you mind coming down for a minute?”

The words were set on your tongue and your little heart banged within your ribs. You’d watched as he climbed down the branches with his eyes and hands redundant with the same meticulousness of a cat.

The moments he had taken to take off the blindfold and free his hands may have been the longest moments of your life.

And then, he’d fixed his dark eye on you, the frown on his face making his annoyance at being interrupted painfully clear. “What is it?”

Now usually, this is the part where you stopped reminiscing and yanked yourself out of the memory. If only you could go back in time, grab your younger self’s wrist, and yank her out of that very situation itself. But alas, that’s not how things work.

Back when the wound was still fresh, you’d replayed the next few moments time and time again in your mind but with the years, you’d mostly succeeded in blocking that part out entirely, as if you could just ignore it out of existence.

You hated to admit it now, but it truly had broken your naive heart into pieces. After all, being met with an impudent “That’s stupid, you shouldn’t” after confessing your admiration to the guy you’d written poems about in your journal isn’t exactly every sixteen-year-old’s dream.

But these were all in the past. Now when you thought of that moment, you just felt pity for your young, foolish self.

If only you could go back in time and…

Regrets aside, you were proud of how far you’d come. There was very little that could faze you now and things like juvenile crushes and fantasies about romance were things of the distant past. You’d burnt your journal not long after that incident—the one filled with poems about how Kakashi’s hair reminded you of the moon.

Eurgh. The thoughts made you cringe now.

It’s not that you didn’t find chances at romance past that one unfortunate incident. You’d left the village at seventeen, and in your ten years of voyage around the world learning about medicine, you’d come across many a man who had shown interest in you. But none had piqued yours.

But now, finally, you were home. Truth be told, you’d missed Konoha. The village, at least. The people…were another question. Once you’d left, you were almost completely out of touch with your friends back here and it had partly been intentional.

Which was another reason why the evening’s ceremony was turning out to be a particularly dreadful affair for you. You hadn’t seen these people in a decade and now to see them all together, at one place, in an engagement ceremony of two of your old classmates…it was all a bit overwhelming. You never were much of a socializer and after that incident, your self-esteem had taken a huge blow, leading you to mostly isolate yourself from your peers. It also hadn’t helped that Kotetsu and Izumo had been sparring that hapless day not far from where Kakashi was and had watched the entire situation unfold in front of themselves, and had then taken the liberty to do a dramatic retelling of the events to each of your comrades, with embellishments and exaggerations added for flair. You had been mercilessly teased, mocked, and ridiculed for weeks.

Sigh.

Was there really no way you could get out of this?

........................................................................................

You stood in front of the big stretch of lush green grass, known as the Konoha Public Park. Yellow lights twinkled in the distance where chairs and tables had been set up in close circles. Rows of cherry blossoms stood swaying along the edges of the park, their feathery pink petals swirling about and settling on the grass under your feet.

Soft music and cackles of laughter flowed into your ears from where you stood now. Right ahead of you was a small arched bridge, hovering over a stream of water. The way the lights danced on the water made it look like little stars were floating along the currents.

The place really did look beautiful.

They must have spent thousands on this thing, you couldn’t help but think. It made sense. Asuma was the third Hokage’s son after all.

All around you, more and more people started to come in—mostly in pairs of two. You still didn’t see anybody you knew yet, and you couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.

Far in the distance, your eye caught Kurenai, arm in arm with Asuma, throwing her head back and laughing at something he must have said.

Alright.

You took a deep breath.  

Here we go.

Once inside, the sea of faces—some familiar, some unfamiliar was making your mind dizzy. Wherever you looked, it seemed like the throngs of happy couples never ended. Was everybody on some kind of love potion in this town?

Your mind was telling you make a run for it, but it had only been— you checked, twenty minutes. You had already met Asuma and Kurenai and congratulated them, and exchanged niceties with a few other old friends who had come to ask you about your journey.

You had yet to pass forty more minutes somehow and there was only one thing to do—hit the bar.

The bar was a few feet long counter on one corner of the park, stocked with all sorts of premium brands and manned by three people dressed in black and white.

If this was the engagement party, what in the hell were they gonna do for the wedding?

“Hi, can I have a vodka cranberry, please?” you said, sitting down on a stool. This spot provided almost an entire view of the venue and you could see two very familiar-looking guys making their way towards the bar, and judging by the way they were vehemently waving their hands, it looked like they—Kotetsu and Izumo recognized you too.

You had NOT prepared for this.

Thankfully at that very moment, the bartender slid a glass of crimson liquid across to you. The ice cubes bumped around on the surface as you grabbed the glass in one hand and your purse in another, took a quick sip, and made a dash for the farthest end of the park, completely cut off from all the merriness.

Clutching the glass close to you, you took quick, hasty steps–stumbling and tripping your way along the sprawling field, all the while keeping an eye behind you to make sure you weren’t being pursued. The grass was uneven in some parts, and your heels weren’t helping.

With a lurch of your heart, you felt your toe hit what must have been a rock. In seconds, your glass was flying from your hand as you attempted to steady yourself, only to feel your body crashing into someone else’s with a thump.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, I’M SO SORRY,”, you screamed out, before looking up to glance at the unfortunate bystander whom you had no doubt doused in your drink. “Please let me-”, you started, but your words dissolved in your throat.

Your drink was fine.

The glass was intact.

And holding it was none other than Kakashi Hatake– the last man you ever wanted to see, let alone crash into.

Great.

Okay, deep breaths. Maybe he won’t even recogn–

 “Hello, y/n.”

 Ah, perfect.

Words, words, words. What are some words?

 “Kakashi”, you heard yourself respond. Thank God.

Within the walls of your brain rang a thousand different sirens.

“I heard you were back in town, you look well”, said the man in front of you, whose figure towered several inches over your head.

You didn’t remember Kakashi being quite so tall. But then again, the last time you’d seen him, he’d only been a boy. His gangly limbs had grown into muscled arms, his once gaunt torso, now broad and firm–even beneath the dark grey suit that he was clad in right now.

You hoped you didn’t look too floored.

“Yes. You too”, you managed, looking back at him, ensuring to not look too surprised, or more accurately, awestruck with him.

In the absence of the headband, Kakashi’s silver hair– free and silken, caressed his eyebrows. His face, though covered in its majority by a mask, had sharpened along the edges, in contrast to the boyish softness it once held.

With most of his face covered, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes.

Surely you were immune to him by now? He was handsome, yes. But so, what? You’d seen handsome men before. Been in their company, spent time with them, studied with them, lived alongside them.

Kakashi was no exception.

If he had any similar feelings of astonishment in seeing you after all this time, he didn’t let it show.

“Anyway, I better…”, you muttered, proceeding to reclaim your glass from him, and stepping aside to move past his still surprisingly tall figure. “It was good to see you”, you said, without looking back.

Barely had you taken a step when the voice behind you called out.

“Not even a thank you for saving you from public humiliation?”

And there it was. The cockiness.

Perhaps he hadn’t changed that much after all.

Sighing to yourself, you turned on your heel to face Kakashi, fixing him with a glare.

“Thank you so very much”, you drawled, flashing him your phoniest smile.

Kakashi sniggered, speaking through a smirk as he bridged the gap between you. “Now, now, y/n. That didn’t sound very sincere”.

He was clearly enjoying this. Embarrassing you once in this lifetime must not have been enough.

And could he stop saying your name?

But you were no longer an infatuated doe-eyed little girl who blushed and fawned upon him. And you wanted that fact known.

“Don’t you have something better to do rather than being a pain in the ass?”

An impish glint peeked through Kakashi’s dark eyes.

“Pardon me, I didn’t realize I was being,” he paused before adding, “a pain in your ass”.

You didn’t enjoy the way his enunciation of the last two words made you squirm. You needed to get away from him. Fast.

But fleeing would be cowardly. And more importantly, why would you? He no longer had an impact on you. No, you were going to stay right here, look him in the eye and face him.

“What are you doing here anyway, Hatake?”

“Same thing as you are, rejoicing in the union of my closest friends.”

You scoffed, repeating his words back to him, “rejoicing in the union of your closest friends?”. “I’d have thought these things are beneath you.”

The smirk was unrelenting on Kakashi’s face. “You must not know me very well then, Y/n.”

There it was, your fucking name again.

“Y/N! Kakashi! There you both are, I have been looking all over for you!” shrieked Gai, coming towards you with hurried steps. You had already exchanged pleasantries with him earlier in the evening, and unlike some others you had encountered, Gai remained exactly the same as he had been when you last met—warm, generous, and very, very spirited.

“Yes”, you retorted, “and I’d like to keep it that way. Now if you’ll excuse me”, you said, turning around to walk towards the centre of the park, where a buffet table had been stationed, with sweet and savory items laid out across its stretch.

Once again, however, your attempt for departure was interrupted.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, as Kakashi stepped up beside you.

“Yes, yes, everything is fantastic! Don’t you worry, Y/N. I was only looking for you to ask you to join us. All of us back there have been playing some very fun games, and you are missing out on all the fun!”, Gai said, pointing behind him to a gathering of people.

“Oh um, I actually…” you started, ravaging your brain for an excuse, but you knew it would be as fruitless as telling Gai that a thousand push-ups a day was way too many push-ups.  

“No excuses, Y/n!”, “You too, Rival!” Gai added, cutting Kakashi off in the middle of an unoriginal excuse about requiring to use the washroom. “Come on now, over here”, Gai ushered, leading you towards the gathering as you and Kakashi followed with thwarted faces.

Taking a large plentiful sip of your drink, you kept your glass aside, hoping it would be enough to fuel you for whatever lunacy lay ahead.  

If only you could go back to the moment in time when you made the decision of coming here and smack yourself in the head.

“Well, what are we playing?” Kakashi asked without fervour, standing beside you with his hands in his pocket as he soaked in the sight in front of him. Multiple pieces of paper had been cut into squares and piled up on the grass.

“I’m glad you asked, Rival! Everybody, gather around please!”, Gai called, as each pair of eyes fell upon him. “For our next game, we’ll be playing Paper Dance! Please form yourselves into groups of two, pick up a piece of paper from the ground, and position yourselves on it. Please remember that both partners must be standing on the paper at all times! When I say start, the music will begin and you will have to dance, maintaining your balance. Once the music stops, the paper will be folded into half and both partners will stand on the halved paper. The music will begin again and when it stops the next time, the paper will be folded into a quarter, and the same will keep repeating until there is only one remaining couple on the floor! As the paper keeps getting smaller, one partner is allowed to pick another up to make space, however, the minute either partner falls off the square, the team will be disqualified! Is everyone clear on the rules?”

A booming roar answered Gai as everyone around you hooted and scrambled to pick up papers for their teams.

You hesitantly picked one up yourself, but there remained one simple problem. Everyone around you had already found a partner, barring only…Kakashi.

Without sparing him a glance, you approached Gai, but before you could get a word out, Gai spoke.

“So sorry, y/n, but I will be the coordinator for this game, to make sure nobody is cheating. Kakashi there seems to be without a partner as well, so you can pair up with him, over here Kakashi!”

“Wait, but–”, you interjected, but Gai had already pushed you and Kakashi together, signaling the DJ to start the music.

“Everybody in their places…and start!”

An upbeat lyric-less melody engulfed the expanse of the park.

As if being shanghaied into attending a wedding and bumping into Kakashi in a less than graceful encounter wasn’t enough, you were now being made to DANCE with him, smack in the middle of the Konoha park, in the audience of hundreds of people.

This evening was truly shaping up to be the stuff of nightmares.

The only advantage in all of this—if you had to choose one, was the fact that in front of you, Kakashi looked quite uncomfortable himself, try as he did to shroud it.

Every pair around you had their arms linked—chiming to the tune, swaying and spinning, throwing their heads back in laughter. The contrast of your partnership as compared to every other team on the floor was like fire and ice.

Tapping your toes in reluctance, you put as much space as possible between you and Kakashi on the small scrap of paper, looking everywhere but ahead.  

“Kakashi! Y/N! That’s not dancing”, Gai interjected, coming around to you. “Put some enthusiasm into those youthful bodies of yours and shake it out!” he added, belting out a serpentine body roll for demonstration.

Flashing him a thumbs up, you pretended to pick up the pace, only to revert to your designated foot taps the moment Gai turned to the pair next to you. Your eyes fell upon Kakashi in a reflexive glance, and you found your dance partner staring right at you, his face an expression of curious amusement.

“Killer moves”, he jibed, but before you could retaliate, Gai’s voice interrupted the music. “And…stop! Amazing everyone! No couples have been disqualified yet, so before we start the next round, everybody please step down from your papers, fold them in half, and retake your positions on them.”

You and Kakashi stepped down from the paper at the same time, each bending down to fold the paper. Your head bumped against his and you jumped back, going back a few steps and letting him do the task as you tucked a loose strand of hair back in place.

Having folded the paper in half, Kakashi stood with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting—almost daring, you to step over first. Looking him in the eye, you stepped onto the paper, the space on which had significantly reduced now.

You felt yourself gulp as Kakashi came forward.

“Ready everyone?”, Gai’s voice rang in the background.

Your feet were touching, your face inches from Kakashi’s chest.

“Start!” called Gai, as a different, less upbeat melody spilled from the speakers.

The scarcity of space made it impossible for you now to look past Kakashi’s figure. With your face mere inches from his chest, you could make out the distinct cliffs of Kakashi’s collarbones peeking through the open top of his shirt. A silver chain peeked through, glinting under the canopy of lights overhead.

Kakashi swayed lightly to the tune, his movement so minuscule as to be missed by anyone not standing centimeters away from him.  

The song playing was familiar to you. It was the instrumental version of your favourite song from your teenage days. There had been many a night you spent writing poetry, this very song playing in the background as you scribbled away.

Droplets of sweat had begun to trickle over your back. The air felt thickened with the smell of chrysanthemums and nostalgia.

You persisted, focusing your eyes on a singular button of Kakashi’s suit, counting the seconds in your mind and waiting for the welcome interjection of Gai’s voice.

A soft warm breeze jostled through the crowd, leaving Kakashi’s hair ruffled. He reached up to pat it back into place, nimble fingers brushing past your forearm as he did.

Explosions like fireworks erupted through your pores where his fingers had trailed.

Your throat seemed to be getting narrower and narrower.

Without a thought or a moment’s realization, you felt your feet trampling away from the muddy piece of paper underneath and over the grass, sprinting, carrying you away. Away from the insufferable melody, the sickening smell of flowers, the disgusting exhibit of affection displayed by couples in each corner, the wretched black mole on Kakashi’s chest under his right collarbone where your eyes kept dragging.

Heaving as you caught your breath, you seated yourself on a wooden bench at the edge of the park. Your heart hammered in your throat as you tried to make sense of what had transpired. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear a faint voice, “Y/N! That is against the rules! Sorry, Rival, I am afraid I will have to disqualify you too.”

Multiple pairs of eyes had turned to look in your direction. You must have looked insane. Running across the field like that, matted hair sticking all over your face. You really had a penchant for embarrassing yourself, it would appear.

This was all too much, all of it. The wedding, Kakashi, your stupid fucking heels that made your soles ache.

Much to your relief and fortune, a woman’s voice replaced the maddening sound of the song blasting through the speakers at that precise moment. It was time for toasts.

Undoing the straps of your shoes, you laid your bare feet on the grass, leaning back to rest your head on the bench.

It was a clear night, the stars shining with all their might, as if in celebration of your friends.

You closed your eyes. The cool grass was soothing underneath your aching feet.

“Are you okay?”

Ugh.

You opened your eyes to see Kakashi standing over you, looking down with an expression almost resembling… was it concern?

You didn’t think he was capable.

“What now?”, you sniped.

Your patience was running thin, you needed to be away from here.

“You left this”, Kakashi said, holding out your glass of vodka cranberry that you’d kept aside earlier.  

“You seem awfully attached to my drink”, you jabbed again, but Kakashi ignored it, coming around to take the vacant spot beside you.

“What happened back there?” he inquired, turning his eyes on you as you looked down at your feet.

What DID happen back there?

“Nothing, I just…felt dizzy. Didn’t get time to have lunch today”, you lied, although only partly. You had, indeed, not gotten time to have lunch that afternoon, you were too busy scouring the market for an appropriate gift, all to ultimately settle on the quaint night lamp that had caught your eye in the very first shop you had visited.

“Hm, then this may not be such a good idea”, Kakashi responded, keeping the crimson-filled glass beside him on the bench.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Kakashi gesture to a server standing a few feet away, holding a tray filled with what appeared to be dumplings.

“Wait, are those dumplings?” the sight of your favourite snack provided the ideal distraction from the less-than-savory thoughts that were beginning to nestle inside your head.

Your stomach growled in agreement, as you realized how hungry you had been.

You piled six onto a small plate and watched Kakashi carefully place two into one of his own.

“God, I missed these”, you exclaimed through a mouthful as Kakashi thanked the tux-clad server, before turning to his plate.

“They do NOT make dumplings like this outside of Konoha”, you added, smacking your lips and digging into the next one. “I need to make up for all the time I lost not eating these.”

Kakashi let a smile slip, watching you in silent amusement. “Well, it looks like you need these more than I do,” he said, offering you his plate.

You couldn’t help but gape.

Was Kakashi Hatake being nice?

“Uhh…”, you hesitated, but Kakashi’s eyes looked entirely genuine, much to your shock…and despair.

He was making this rather hard.

“Is there any reason why you’re going out of your way to be nice to me and following me around like a puppy dog the entire evening?”, you blurted, expecting Kakashi to retort with a brazen remark, an insult to match the ones you had been hurling at him all evening.

Instead, he shrugged. “Got some making up to do my own”.

The words made you turn. The air between you had shifted. “What does that mean?”

But just as easily, the tide had rolled over. “Nothing”, Kakashi said airily, piling his dumplings onto your plate.

You studied his face once more to make sure this was not some juvenile prank. In his eyes, you read only kindness.

“Well um…thanks”, you said, putting your seventh dumpling in your mouth.

Kakashi gave a wave of his hand. “I owed you one.”

Still ruminating about his earlier comment about having things to make up for, you asked, “For what?”

“For freeing me from the torment of dancing for another second.”

The mole under his collarbone made a flashing appearance in your mind and you looked away, coughing on your last bite.

“Right, uh yeah, no biggie”, you said, clearing your throat. “Anyway, I uh, am gonna take a lap around the park, the toasts are over, and Gai looks like he’s about to start up another game again. I’d rather not be in the vicinity while he’s recruiting participants”, you added, slipping back into your shoes.

You wanted to get away from him, you needed to get away from him.

You had spent the last ten years of your life keeping Kakashi Hatake from your mind, and your last ten minutes had been spent studying his hands as they rested on his lap.

And recalling how his fingers had felt against your skin.

You stood up, looking back to take his leave, but something in his eyes rendered you powerless over yourself. Because the next words you uttered were, “Do you wanna come with?”

With his tone the embodiment of nonchalance, Kakashi accepted your gracious offer, yet something in his demeanor made you glad that you’d asked.

Once on your way, however, you found yourself at a loss of words. The scent of Kakashi’s perfume clouded your mind—an aquatic smell, subtle yet lingering.

In an attempt to avoid any further unwanted invitations, the two of you kept to the edge of the park, seeking concealment underneath the shadows of the cherry trees that lined the perimeter.

“Pretty night tonight”, you commented without thought. The silence had become too dense.

“Yes”, Kakashi nodded in agreement, looking up at the sky, “Lot of stars.”

“Mmhmm” you mused in response. “Very starry.”

Petals of cherry blossom had littered the ground, carving a pink, velvety path of their own.

You spent a few minutes walking in quietude again, before Kakashi broke the silence. “You know, if you look close enough, you can make out the Six Paths constellation in the sky tonight.”

“The Six Paths constellation?” you asked eagerly, grateful for his intervention.

“Yeah, up there”, Kakashi pointed at the bejewled satin sky. “The brightest star there in the middle is supposed to mark his Third Eye, the smaller, dimmer stars on each side his eyes, and the one at the bottom the tip of his beard”

You halted to look, glancing in the direction of his finger before glaring back at him.

“You just made that up.”

Kakashi looked back at you, the thinly veiled smirk on his mouth giving way to a hearty chuckle, “I did”, he admitted sheepishly.

You couldn’t help but laugh along.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” you chided through a chortle.

When Kakashi laughed again, the stars dimmed.

“I missed it, you know?” you confessed absent-mindedly, “The village. The…people.”

“The dumplings”, Kakashi appended.

You laughed again. “Most of all the dumplings, yes.”

A long subdued, familiar sensation crept up your neck like the arms of an old friend.

A breeze passed through.

Petals from the blossom branches rained upon you in a tender, pink shower.

Kakashi’s gaze was soft on yours.

“You have something in your hair,” he said, nodding towards your right. “Do you want me to get it out?”

“Oh um…” you fumbled, reaching up for your hair, but stopping midway. “Sure.”

Kakashi stepped closer, reaching across to touch a pink petal lodged over your ear.

Inside your chest, your heart hammered. It had been for a long time, you realized—growing louder with each thrum.

Once.

His fingers whisked past your cheek.

Twice.

Kakashi smiled down, silver hair gleaming like moonlight.

Thrice.

Your eyes widened.

You had been wishing to go back in time all evening, but you failed to realize until now that you had done just that.

Kakashi held the petal out to you, the flower blushing a pristine pink in his palm.

And with the next thrum of your heart, you were sixteen again.

[cassowariess]

I think what's so frustrating about the ending of Game of Thrones, even 4 years later, is that I could see those disappointing character endings actually working if they had been written properly.

Jaime could have gone back to Cersei in a way that made sense, if we'd had multiple scenes where he struggles to convince himself that he can be a good person and fails because of his trauma and codependency. He hates himself so much he can't possibly believe that he deserves someone as good as Brienne. Instead we have him say "oops, I'm a bad person all along!" after 5 seconds of introspection and ride off on a horse.

I'd also take out the "I never cared about innocents" line unless there was a way to make it really clear he didn't mean it and was saying it out of bitterness. Otherwise it's non sensical and erases his most pivotal scene where he confesses to Brienne how and why he killed the Mad King.

Daenerys could have had a mental breakdown in a way that makes sense if we'd seen her unravelling more. All we got was her staring off into the distance and looking slightly dishevelled while Tyrion told her Varys had betrayed her. I wanted to see her pacing while she was alone and looking devastated. Cold, icy looks don't tell us anything about her state of mind, because she always had a ruthless side, but was in complete control of her mental faculties. Hiding her emotions for a shock and awe "twist" doesn't make it a good twist because there were hardly any breadcrumbs, even subtle ones. It could have worked (if it was well written) because the freedom fighter to tyrant pipeline is something that has happened historically in the real world. A good twist is Jon Snow being revealed to be Lyanna and Rheagar's son, because there were chekovs and groundwork to follow. Dany's "twist" was just bad writing.

Bran could have become king in a way that made sense if they'd stuck more to the Bloodraven storyline in the books. i.e. that Bloodraven (A Targaryen bastard that went missing beyond the wall and became the Three Eyed Crow decades before Bran shows up) is secretly trying to install himself on the Iron Throne, and yes there's peace in the realm but it still feels sinister because there's a Targaryen on the iron throne in the end after all, but in a Stark's body. Instead we got a half hearted speech about stories and Tyrion calling him "Bran the Broken" which I personally would have smacked him for. (Also still think it was a mistake to leave out Commander Mormont's Raven in the show. I loved the creepy things the bird occassionally said and I'm fully on board with the theory that Bloodraven is speaking through the bird.)

”King,” croaked the raven. The bird flapped across the solar to land on Mormont’s shoulder. “King,” it said again, strutting back and forth. “He likes that word,” Jon said, smiling. “An easy word to say. An easy word to like.” “King,” the bird said again. “He rose and dressed in darkness, as Mormont’s raven muttered across the room. “Corn,” the bird said, and, “King,” and, “Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow.” That was queer. The bird had never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall.“

So much character development was avoided because of the time devoted to cartoonish battles you could barely see. Battles which will likely be only a few pages in the future books, as all the others are in the currently published ones.

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 s02e16: In the Shadow of Z'ha'dum s02 ToC • previous episode

Dislike that they're turning the Narn refugees back unless they're injured. At least they're taking the injured, but damn, Earth won't take any refugees, even temporarily? That's awful.

Vir: Stop asking me things with uncomfortable answers. It makes me uncomfortable.

Not a great time to be a Centauri with a shred of a conscience, but a political position. Especially gross to be anyone dealing with fuckhead the asshole. Mor something?

Great hate speech by Vir, he's come a long way in expressing himself. It would be nice to see Shadow-lackey die a terrible death.

I, personally, would not name any kind of ship or vessel which I wished to remain in one piece, the Icarus. I'm not superstitious superstitious but I am a little superstitious. Don't wanna get on a submersible boat named Titan Titanic, either. Just seems like tempting fate. Or if not fate, then getting mocked in memes by teenagers after your ironic death.

Dun dun dun!! Shadow asshat was supposed to have died on the Icarus with Anna! Is she dead? Is any of that crew dead?

Morden. And he's on the station!

I reflexively distrust and dislike every single person who comes onto the station specifically to see Talia. Matt Stoner. Every PsiCorps episode. That time Kosh and the Guy With The Good Hat indulged in a little, light, mental torture to evaluate her. People just fuck with Talia and she deserves a break and a nice episode where she kisses Susan and relaxes a little.

This security guard taking Morden aside looks a lot like Willem Dafoe. But I don't think he is. Probably?

Morden's playing it slick, but Sheridan is in a bad bad mood. He's got a good explanation. He's a damned liar and he's AWOL. Just because he was assumed KIA doesn't mean he isn't still obligated to report back to duty.

But of course, Sheridan prefers to threaten him with making his legal status become his actual physical status (dead).

It makes sense that someone who's seen as much trauma and been traumatized as much as Stephen Franklin would need to talk it out. And it makes sense that he would have lowered inhibitions and feel compelled to talk about it when he's in the middle of another traumatic scenario. But the religious musings spoken through the characters' mouths is pretty tedious and not my favorite aspect.

Gross earthforce spy network setup.

Garibaldi being the voice of reason and urging adherence to moral guidelines is hilarious. Maybe that's what he needs: someone who's more of a loose cannon than he is, to keep in line.

This dichotomy is dumb. Message earthforce and be like "May I detain this AWOL member of earthforce that, surprise, isn't dead!" They're so suspicious and fascist right now, of course they'll support detaining him!

Idk if Talia going to help violate Morden's rights or not. And idk what Vir is going to disclose! Exciting!

The Centauri must go through so much hairspray. Vir's hair hardly even wobbles as he bobbles.

Literally it seems like all of thise would be resolved by calling Earthforce and telling them Morden's alive. I really don't understand why Sheridan isn't using the might of Earthforce to do all this with full military backing and support.

Two creepy shadow being accompanying Morden! I don't like that at all!

People really need to stop using Talia's abilities against her and to manipulate her into using telepathy against her better judgement and against the literal law. Super dickish. Sheridan's making a lot of indefensible calls in this one.

They need a therapist or twenty on board.

The Vorlon are so funny. All of the lesser races are as bugs to us….the Minbari are the best bugs and we prefer the best bugs to any of you annoying ones.

Deep Lore Dump.

The Ancients (who haven't "walked among us" in ten thousand years) fought the First Ones and (?) the Shadows over the millennia. They haven't been around since the last Great War. The Minbari were a space-going civilization at the time! Damn! No wonder they're so elitist! They've Seen It All.

So…Vorlons are some of the Ancients? Or at least they sheltered Kosh, an Ancient among their ranks? Wild that "everyone" will recognize him if he's out of his encounter suit. Or perhaps Kosh's idea of everyone is "everyone who knew me ten thousand years ago," lol.

Very grim outcome for the crew of the Icarus, but it does make me think that Anna will be back.

Anytime there's a debate about allowing mass death and atrocities for some future greater good, I don't care. Save the people in front of you. This WWII story is grim af. iirc, Britain was great at catching German spies. I should think they could totally have evacuated Coventry secretly. Really grim.

"What did you see?" "Nothing. Shadows."

Ewwww gross, Zach the security guard is going to be an earthforce informer. I really, really do not like the implications of a group of people with armbands being spread around to intimidate the populace.

This is a good decision by Sheridan. He's good at war, and it will be better for him to turn his energy into beating an ancient evil than to spin his wheels at B5.

Kosh saying he will die if he goes to Z'ha'dum doesn't mean he'll die if he fights the Shadows, imo. Many things in this show seem to revolve around loopholes, semantics, and pedantry. What if the Shadow leaves Z'ha'dum and is defeated in another place? That's a Sheridan-worthy escape clause from Prophecy of Doom.

next episode

[plutobutartsy]

headcanons for the shaw pack playing the best (worst) german board game of all time: Mensch Ärgere Dich Nicht

this is so so self indulgent the target audience is literally only me because i don't think i've ever seen another german redacted fan lol but still

first, here are the rules

this is the board

you play with a max of 4 players. everyone is a different colour and has 4 pieces. you start the game with all of your pieces in your corner of the board (where the B is). at the start of the game, you get three chances to roll the die, if you roll a 6 you get to put one of your pieces into the game on the circle with the A that's in the same color as your pieces.

for the entirety of the game, whenever you roll a 6, you get to put another piece into the game AND you get to roll again. once you have a piece in the game, you move it according to the numbers you roll every turn. if you have multiple pieces in the game you get to choose wich one you move. you move the pieces clock wise.

the goal of the game is to move all your pieces around the entirety of the board once so you can put them in your "house" (the four circles titled a, b, c and d). whoever achieves that first wins. the tricky part is that to get a piece into your house, you have to roll the exact number to get in, i.e. if you have a piece right in front of the house and you roll anything higher than a 4, you can't put your piece in. that means the more pieces you have in your house and the closer you are to winning, the trickier it gets so you can guess the kind of anger and frustration this causes :)

but we're not even at the fun part yet because you can SABOTAGE other players by "throwing out" their pieces. for example if another player's piece is 3 spots in front of yours and you roll a 3, you can take the place of that piece and the other player has to put it back in their corner of the board and they can't put it back into the game unless they roll another 6 :). that means whenever two players' pieces are close to each other paranoia sets in :)

the game is so simple yet the fights i've seen break out because of it are marvelous <3

this is also very ironic because Mensch Ärgere Dich Nicht loosely translates to "man don't get angry"

okay onto the headcanons

the pack get together and play the dreaded game at every chance they get and they almost never finish it because of how pissed everyone gets while playing

asher is THE sniper in this game. TRUST he will get your pieces and throw them out. if he has to choose between getting one of his pieces into his house or throwing out one of yours, he will always choose to be a menace.

his #1 targets are david and milo

milo takes it very personally. one time after a game where asher really went in on milo, he wouldn't talk to asher for a week and a half. he considers his little guys being thrown out the greatest offense and betrayal.

asher jokes that it's because milo relates to the pieces so much since they're "the same size as him"

david is the type of player that makes it fairly peacefully around the board UNTIL he's about to put one of his pieces into his house. THAT'S when his bad luck strikes and his piece gets sniped.

david also argues that it's "stupid" that he has to roll the exact number to get into his house

"why can't i put it in my house if i roll a 5 that makes no sense if i'm ABLE to take 5 steps why can't i just CHOOSE to only take 4-"

he's very annoying about it

angel is that person who initially rarely rolls a 6 so it takes them FOREVER to even get into the game but once they're in? oh boy you basically already lost

their win comes out of nowhere

baaabe and sweetheart form a coalition. they agree to not throw each other out.

that agreement goes out of the window when one of them is close to winning.

their main goal is to take out asher. milo is VERY happy about them working together.

that is, until they team up on him

then he's inconsolable

sweetheart rolls pretty high numbers which is great until they try to get into their house, then the constant 5s get very depressing

baaabe is the opposite, they roll mostly 2s and 3s so it takes them forever to get around the board but once they make it, they get their pieces into their house pretty quickly

sam just doesn't understand the rules at first

"why can't i put my piece in my house, 6 is enough isn't it?" cue david, "THATS WHAT I'M SAYING-"

but once he plays for a bit he gets the hang of it and he honestly enjoys it quite a lot

he's half of the reason why the pack still plays it together despite all of the fights, he just visibly has so much fun playing

yes i also headcanon that EVERYONE in the shaw pack has a soft spot for him. and i'm right.

darlin only plays for two reasons: 1) to make sam happy and 2) to bully asher

it is a fight to the DEATH between them and asher, you don't get it.

they either hurl every insult in the book at each other or it is dead silent. you only hear furious dice rolling. no inbetween for these two.

for that reason asher and darlin aren't allowed to play against each other unless both sam and david are there as mediators.

the only time darlin and ash aren't at each other's throats while playing is when they team up on christian or david.

christian almost never rolls a 6 so he barely ever manages to get into the game. but on the off chance that he does, he immediately gets sniped by ash or darlin

christian no longer plays Mensch Ärgere Dich Nicht.

[blogofloathing]

Part 1 of 1, Edel E'Meyer And The Courts Favor

"I assure you I can handle this all by myself" Edel Erlenmeyer proliferated once more among them.

Even in their oft quietous, she could feel a hurtful doubt in the lot of them, really had she proved nothing to them, at the very least shown that her passion for the subject was greater than anyone's?

Standing behest an overwhelming numeration of blank faces, their cold indifference ran hot on her eyes, ironically beading up droplets of sweat

The room was lit up with harsh white bulbs, which served to shine disconcertingly on her pale skin, and similarly palid hair, allowing each flyaway strand to be disgustingly visible to all in the room,

In which she stood upright rather than sitting down, a stark contrast to the Faceless which had never been seen leaving their seats, she'd be wholly unfazed if they were bolted to the floor.

"concerning the.." a pause, "deaths of all pertinent" another pause, "personnel, we.." the group spoke not in unison, but finished one another's sentences as if having previously rehearsed the scene.

Each word chosen carefully, spoken with precise intonation, "find it.. unwise to continue.."

Seizing the silence that followed she extolled in a mock tone of remembrance "while yes the loss of both head scientists.." stopping for a beat as if to pay a momentary respects to the deceased.

"And in turn both subjects," murmuring ensued among them, each empty face conferring excitably, "however!" She cut in, to stifle the crowd.

"I believe I am perfectly able to continue their work, with the resources leftover" smacking the table she was standing at, it echoed iridly around the spacious hall, resembling a court room more than any proper meeting or office space.

As the quiet conference began again within the multitudes, "I'd like to draw your attention to the chalkboard, generously provided by the school"

Wheeling out a green board, covered in frantic nearly illegible scribbles, numbers and statistics, cartoonish drawings of strange creatures.

Every eye in the audience shifted dramatically to what was explained in white, "here we can see a catalogue of each specimen, while many were destroyed in the.. incident" she extended a pointer

"A good number also go unaccounted for," the discussion between peers seemed to be without end, and Edel didn't even bother attempting to hush their tones again, "while yes a good portion were reduced to unidentifiable puddles of mush"

Smiling under her breath, she had to smother the expressions of mirth as soon as it came, mustn't look too amused at the gorey prospect.

"Undoubtedly some escaped, where they are is a job for the jobbies," her use of such casual terms serving to bring harsh looks down on high.

Really what respect was deserved for those mooks, bumbling facsimiles, if she was successful in gaining her new position, they'd be the first to go..

Edel could sense a growing impatience, and so quickly moved on "but what specimens remain,"

Gesturing to a chart labeled 'contained' with 5 names listed underneath in neat lettering.

"Will be invaluable to my- our work here," alright Edel, give em the line now sink it.

"Imagine!" She shouted with a dramatic flourish, flipping the chalkboard to its back, showcasing a crude drawing of men holding guns "being able to create supersoldiers from nothing!"

Several raised eyebrows and jubilant looks sprang up within the audience at the idea.

Giving the board another spin, she brilliantly showed off a third side, depicting an equally amateur illustration of two men, labeled 'identical'

"replace people who know too much!" Different eyebrows raised, with different jubilant looks between the blanked faces abound.

Almost violently flipping to tbe next side of the board, wherein sat a shockingly detailed diagram of muscle groups and cutting techniques.

"And even fix the ongoing food crisi-" though she stopped herself as disgusted looks rained on her, running back to shelter, best not to overstep now.. clearly she'll have to bring it up another time

While her preamble experiments with cooking and consumption of cloned meat had proved promising, she wasn't surprised at their hesitance.

As far as she could tell, there were no adverse side effects to eating clones, even if it wasn't pretty. Something about wheezing flesh heaps didn't appeal to the general masses apparently.

By their standards at least, Edel herself couldn't imagine something more beautiful than the specimens, creating life and returning it to the earth through sacrifice, calories to calories.

Shaking her head like a dog to throw off these blissful fantasies, she continued with a cough.

"Ahem, anyway, I believe, with the information presented to you all today," looking at the space where an expression would be on anyone else.

It wasn't right to say they looked neutral, or uncaring, it was more like the canvas where a face should lay was replaced with a sharp nothingness.

One which she felt could cut her, while also phasing through, a haunting, confusing picture.

"You will find that it is not only worthwhile, but infact necessary! To continue this work, undoubtedly these prospects seem desirable do they not?" Her voice has somewhat of a sales mogle like quality to it, clearly pre rehearsed

There was a dead quiet, all seemed to be thinking

"Especially to you Bruise" Edel mused pointedly at the cluster she assumed belonged to him.

The concept of disposable machines of war had perked all their ears at attention, so easy to read.

In the way he couldn't quite separate each of them convincingly, where one picked up a pen, another held their hand uselessly in the air, and he couldn't quite get them to talk independently yet.

He thought it went unnoticed, but human behavior was her specialty, going hand in hand with cloning.

"We would rather you.. not refer to our-" the Bruise group began, followed by Terrence's.

"Sorry sorry," putting her hands up surrenderedly. "Really I don't see the point of using the Faceless"

Pointdexter's collection winged noticeably, it was evident they had been his idea,

Certainly she could see the appeal, puppets of flesh to project yourself through,

However this required careful removal of the afflicted's brain, and replacement of such with darkened imitations, a tedious process.

Which Edel presumed she could completely circumvent, creating life only to serve that purpose

While they wanted to alter a person to be serviant, she had the capabilities to engineer life,

tailor made to act in their interests, "in any case, I know you four can see the usefulness"

"And that's just the start of it" she decided to let the sentiment linger for a few moments

Before sealing the deal for good, "I could even take care of that.. pesky nephew issue"

She spoke in a tone almost as if it was an after thought, a footnote to her plans.

The middlemost gaggle of puppets plucked up almost comically, "as in.. Morris..?"

A cautious smile marking trails along their.. well,

Edel smirked deleteriously, teeth sharpened to points, they could almost draw blood speaking alone, with a silver tongue to lap it up.

"Our biggest problem indeed," grinning cheshire in the dim light, the effect compounded by the extra row of biters she had installed herself.

"With my technology, and your support" she had them all around her finger already,

"We can get everything we've ever wanted, with none to stand in the way" images of flesh, spires of bone and overwhelming heaps of organic matter, gorgeous monuments to rebirth, these tantalizing dreams filled her mind, drove her hand.

Living creatures of every kind, a world of life, of pulsing and moving, wriggling and changing.

Where everything would be the ideal, perfection, beings of mastered speciation, full adaptability.

Wherein extinction wasn't a possibility, wherein there was no such thing as death, only birth.

"And any who do, can be fixed, replaced, changed, I can even do the same for all of you, you don't have to rely on your meager components"

Her muscles contracted and hissed at the push of hydraulic systems within her very bones.

Spiders, she had learned it from, complex mechs. Much more efficient than human systems.

"Surely I live as evidence of my claims," she sang, swiveling around, her joints could go in all directions, backwards, forwards, upside down.

"No pain! Well," she snickered not unlike a clown, "at least not anymore, surgery makes one weary of course" rolling her shoulder exaggeratedly

The faceless shifted uncomfortably at her manic outburst, "I've already done so on myself, it's as easy as one simple procedure, I could do it right-"

"Stop, we've heard you out, and we will allow for Project Piebald to continue" a different voice spoke," rendering the center cluster hunched over at their desks as an unseen figure strode in.

Suited in black and with hair that seemed to cling to the air particles as they passed through.

"Ahh, little Margy" she grinned smugly, hands on her chin at the taller woman. Who did not reciprocate the flamboyant attitude presented.

"I've said not to call me that Auntie Edie" bristling at the nickname, her hair looked as though it corresponded to her mood. Growing sharp and pointed when angered, or annoyed by Edel.

"Aww but darling you'll always be my lil-" she cooed, a hand placed on Margaret's chin.

Tilted slightly upturned, she slapped her hand away, garnering surprised looks from the dark glassed men standing just behind her.

Who preformed a dramatically drawn out "oooo" at the apparently exciting drama unfolding.

"Are we all grade schoolers here?" She scolded harshly, eyes running jet black to mirror the gaze of her still animate compatriots in the stands.

"No ma'am-" "sorry-" "of cour-" "won't hap-" they all spoke over each other in a jumbled dog pile.

Literally stumbling in place, grabbing one another for balance and dragging the other down too.

Margaret sighed wearily, exasperated at the scene unfolding just behind her, "see what I mean?" Edel quirked with a hint of sarcasm, lending the darker haired woman to glower sharply at her again

"They're just lackies" yet apparently jobbies was too harsh? she grumbled the words just quiet enough they couldn't hear over their own kerfuffle

"But they get their work done" now Edel was starting to suspect she was lying on purpose.

In any case, sidestepping blatant flanderizing of these idiots, "hopefully mine can do it better"

They smiled at each other, something of their little rivalry amused and annoyed the pair in turn.

"Well I can expect to see you in my office," pausing for a moment to consider the now doubled over bodies juryside, "proper office" she finished.

Extending a hand towards her spunkier colleague, "this isn't final, but I agree to seeing some results"

She shook it confidently, as far as Edel was concerned she had won, set to do as she pleased

Margaret's handshake was firm, but not as strong as it could be, and she'd shaken a lot of hands.

"Happy to be working with you madam president" she replied in a mock tone of authority.

Giggling idly when her face fell at the impression, as Edel's internal systems catalogued and reproduced a model of Marg's fingerprint from the most momentary contact of a handshake

// well there you have it! Our first introduction to the beloved (to some) and the hated (to far more) Edel Erlenmeyer! I'm excited to write more about her and her strange motives, what could she be planning to do with the power she's asking for?

And to end things off we have a very very special happy birthday to send out for a "Gali's Girlfriend" hope you enjoyed this little birthday treat ^w^ !!